This article references rape, birth trauma and suicide.
Every single one of us has either been raped, or knows someone who has been raped. It does not matter where you live, how old you are, or how much money you have. Rape is a part of our story as women, yet it is a part we're not discussing.
I feel lucky that I was raped in a way that means it can be proven beyond reasonable doubt. I have my birth certificate, my daughter’s birth certificate and a DNA test that links her to the older man that groomed me, aged 15.
I understand how ridiculous that sounds – and of course strangers still assign me blame – but being able to speak out, knowing the crime cannot be refuted under UK law, is a luxury most women don’t have.
We speak so little about sex that for a long time, I didn’t even realise I was raped. In areas like mine – which in the year 2000 had the highest teenage pregnancy rates in Europe – it wasn’t unusual. The focus was always on how we could prevent girls from getting pregnant, without ever asking how it happened.
Thanks to the work of the last Labour government, teenage pregnancy rates are down. Yet still, every single day, 10 babies are born in this country as a result of rape. That’s an estimate, because most women never speak of it; not to their families, not to the authorities, not the children they often wish didn’t exist, but are so desperate to protect. They carry their burden alone, hidden in plain sight.
One brave mum told me she couldn’t remember the attack, but suffered as the baby grew inside her, attempting to take her life. Despite presenting to the world as an articulate and happy expectant mummy, she was retraumatised by the birth and re-lived this each year as her precious child celebrated their birthday.
Another shared her struggle to bond with her newborn with her health visitor. When told what had happened, the professional said she had to refer her to other services, because the assault had occurred in her home, and she was considered unable to keep herself and her children safe. They failed to recognise that she was the victim.
One mum did all she could to keep her little one safe in the small, close-knit community she shared with the rapist and his family. The child’s features were not only her daily reminder of the attacker, but worse still, she feared the resemblance could raise questions, resulting in the perpetrator demanding access to the child, with little she could do to stop them.
People don’t believe me when I share that there is nothing stopping perpetrators having access to children conceived via rape. They are horrified that a rapist can have legal rights over another human because of the crime they committed. A child conceived via rape cannot be the only proceed of crime that a convicted criminal has lifelong access to.
The resources and helplines you need to know.
I’m fighting for a change to the law that means a convicted rapist no longer automatically receives parental rights over the child created via his crime. I am working with the Government to ensure the state instead protects these brave women. Like it or not, children are born of rape in the UK; the current law is not just a legal loophole, it’s an injustice that keeps women silent for fear of further harm.
The Victims and Courts Bill offers a chance — a real, legislative opportunity — to make sure women are protected. That their children are protected. That the attacker doesn’t have the right to linger in their lives under a pretence of parenthood that he does not deserve.
We finally have a government that is treating violence against women and girls as the national emergency it is. Tackling the backlog of court cases, making sure there are enough prison spaces for criminals to serve their sentences; finally survivors are being taken seriously, and action is being taken to keep us safe while society catches up.
I don’t want rape to be part of my story, but like too many of us, it is. I am choosing to tell it, because speaking up is another vehicle for change. It is only when we call out this behaviour that we give the next generation the courage to block the sender of the unsolicited dick pick; to tell men that no means no and there is no blurred line.
I often get thanked for being brave, when in reality I am a women, a mum, and now an MP with a common story that we have all been conditioned not to tell. For that to change, we need these conversations to be part of normal discourse. That’s a big ask, and I can’t do it alone.
So, courage calls to courage everywhere…
Let’s make it normal to talk about rape. Instead of bristling and changing the subject, be comfortable discussing it in our kitchens and our workplaces. Let us talk to our boys about consent, and celebrate the men that are our allies.
Most importantly, let’s openly be seen to be listening to her, believing her and supporting her. Tell each other about your dodgy sexual encounter; I promise you’ll be surprised how many people believe you, and then share their story too.
My hope is, that if we make speaking out the norm, we can create a world where my precious baby granddaughter tells her grandchildren how we used to cover up crimes, because society taught us they were our fault.
He did it, we hid it; let that be the uncomfortable truth that future generations don’t believe.
With the permission of my courageous, formidable daughter, I will use my platform to keep speaking out and fighting for better; I encourage others who feel able, to do the same. Together, we can and will achieve the changes we not only demand, but deserve.
For more information about reporting and recovering from rape and sexual abuse, you can contact Rape Crisis on 0808 500 2222.
If you have been sexually assaulted, you can find your nearest Sexual Assault Referral Centre here. You can also find support at your local GP, voluntary organisations such as Rape Crisis, Women's Aid, and Victim Support, and you can report it to the police (if you choose) here.
