This article contains references to needle spiking.
Is the government doing enough to protect women from drink spiking? Back in December 2023, the Government announced new measures to crack down on spiking as part of its strategy to tackle violence against women and girls. However, there's concern that these steps don't go far enough to make spiking a specific offence.
Here, Sharon Gaffka shares her own experience with spiking and how it has changed the way she lives her life…
People were shocked when I first opened up about my spiking experience, but it wasn't until I started speaking to other victims that I realised what happened to me wasn't unique or unusual.
In July 2020, in broad daylight; in a restaurant at lunchtime, when I was wearing jeans and trainers – I was found unconscious and taken to A&E. Nothing about the day was odd; we were out celebrating a birthday and reuniting after spending what felt like an eternity apart due to national lockdowns. I remember my last drink and telling my friend that I didn’t feel very well. Now, looking back at photos taken moments before I lost consciousness – my entire face had changed, and while my eyes were open, there was nothing behind them.
My memory from the moment I felt unwell to the moment I regained consciousness in an A&E cubicle is non-existent. But from what I do remember, I woke up without any of my possessions, my T-shirt stained with a mix of bodily fluids and multiple cannulas sticking out from both my arms which connected to a variety of drips. A junior doctor asked me if I was aware of where I was, or how I got there – I couldn't answer; I just remember the lights hurting my eyes and the fact that I was alone. When I was discharged, one of my friends in the waiting room was hysterical – no one had told her where I was or what had happened. It wasn’t until the next morning, over breakfast, when my friend described witnessing my body laying on the bathroom floor, eyes rolling into the back of my head, struggling to breathe, that I knew I had been spiked.
The aftermath was horrible; I was unusually anxious and experiencing extremely low moods. I didn't want to go out, and I didn't want to talk to anyone. When I did speak to a friend or family member, I felt like I was being interrogated. “Did you take a drink from a stranger?” “Where were you?” – as if somehow that would’ve made it my fault. I know it came from a place of concern, but subconsciously I felt like I was being judged. Being judged for being a young woman who was out (legally) socialising while we were tackling the biggest health crisis in modern history.
I began this article by outlining where I was, the time of day, and what I was wearing. Why do I – and so many other victims – feel the need to justify our behaviours?
Women are terrified for their safety.
The two paramedics that took me to the hospital assumed that I was just irresponsibly drunk, telling my friends that I just needed to “go home and sleep it off.” So naturally, all that went through my mind was, ‘If the paramedics don’t believe me, will anybody else?'
I didn’t go to the police because the thought of constantly replaying what could’ve happened was too painful. I was tired of defending myself and talking about what happened to me hurt. I tried to get closure from the hospital. I wanted to know what drugs had been administered and what the blood tests they took had shown. I was promised that my GP and I would receive copies of the records, but I never received them. Why would I want to go through that again? A crime without evidence will never make trial – just another ‘he said, she said’ situation. So what would be the point?
“I didn’t go to the police because the thought of constantly replaying what could’ve happened was too painful.”
But to this day, my biggest regret is that I didn’t report what happened. I feel like I essentially let the perpetrator get away with it.
As a young woman, I grew up being told to watch what I was wearing, not to go out when it was dark, to cover my drink and not to accept drinks from men at bars. Has anything changed? There's been a surge of reports of a new form of spiking involving needles – 5,000 UK cases alone were reported to the police in 2022, according to the National Police Chiefs Council (NPCC). While we know that drink spiking can come in many forms with alcohol, recreational drugs, date rape drugs, and sometimes over-the-counter medication, there is little to no information about needle spiking, though it is believed to be Rohypnol (roofie) or Gamma Hydroxybutyrate (GHB).
Because consent is the bare minimum.
Being a victim of spiking doesn't just ruin your night; it changes your behaviour for the rest of your life. How I socialise with my friends has changed, I think I've been to a club a handful of times outside private events. As a single woman, it's made dating harder because I'm more conscious about who I engage with. Being approached at a bar as flattering and (for the majority of the time) harmless) but I never accept offers of drinks.
As an anti-spiking campaigner, I've spoken to many people who have been in my position. All are from different demographics, but they all share something in common – they are all afraid to speak out about their experiences for fear of judgement and victim shaming. Women alter their outfits when they go out in an attempt to protect themselves from potential needle spiking.
“I never imagined there would be young female students openly speaking about wearing denim jackets to protect themselves from needle spiking.”
In 2022, in the middle of my spiking campaign, I had been fortunate enough to go to many universities, but one in particular sticks in my brain. I never imagined that there would be a theme of young female students openly speaking about wearing denim jackets when socialising to protect themselves.
All young women can relate when I say that we can all recall growing up being told how to act or how to be. But I never recall having my brother being told not to exhibit ‘boys will be boys’ like behaviour. We all bear some individual responsibility to ensure that we are safe when we are out. But why do women always have to defend themselves? It makes me sad to know that the conversation is still ‘What were you wearing?’ and ‘Did you cover your drink?'
Despite the trolling and the shaming I face daily as a result of being a spokesperson for victims, I know that it is not my fault, and it will never be my fault. I just wish that I had realised sooner.
For more information about drink spiking, needle spiking, and what to do if you think you've been spiked, there are more resources available at Drink Aware, www.nhs.uk, and Talk To Frank.
