[This talk contains graphic language and descriptions of sexual violence Viewer discretion is advised]
[Ovaj govor sadrži eksplicitan jezik i opise seksualnog nasilja. Poželjna je diskrecija gledatelja]
Tom Stranger: In 1996, when I was 18 years old, I had the golden opportunity to go on an international exchange program. Ironically I'm an Australian who prefers proper icy cold weather, so I was both excited and tearful when I got on a plane to Iceland, after just having farewelled my parents and brothers goodbye. I was welcomed into the home of a beautiful Icelandic family who took me hiking, and helped me get a grasp of the melodic Icelandic language. I struggled a bit with the initial period of homesickness. I snowboarded after school, and I slept a lot. Two hours of chemistry class in a language that you don't yet fully understand can be a pretty good sedative.
Tom Stranger: Godine 1996., kada sam imao 18 godina, imao sam sjajnu priliku sudjelovati u međunarodnom programu razmjene. Ironično, Australac sam koji više voli jako hladno vrijeme pa sam bio i uzbuđen i tužan kada sam se ukrcao na zrakoplov za Island nakon što sam se oprostio s roditeljima i braćom. Divna islandska obitelj pružila mi je dobrodošlicu u svom domu. Vodili su me u šetnje i pomogli mi u razumijevanju melodičnog islandskog jezika. Na početku mi je nedostajao dom. Bavio sam se daskanjem na snijegu i puno sam spavao. Dva sata kemije na jeziku koji ne razumijete sasvim dobar su sedativ.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
My teacher recommended I try out for the school play, just to get me a bit more socially active. It turns out I didn't end up being part of the play, but through it I met Thordis. We shared a lovely teenage romance, and we'd meet at lunchtimes to just hold hands and walk around old downtown Reykjavík. I met her welcoming family, and she met my friends. We'd been in a budding relationship for a bit over a month when our school's Christmas Ball was held.
Predložili su mi da se prijavim za ulogu u predstavi kako bih se više uključio u društvo. Nisam dobio ulogu, ali tako sam upoznao Thordis. Imali smo lijepu tinejdžersku romansu, nalazili smo se u stankama i držali se za ruke, šetali starim dijelom Reykjavika. Upoznao sam njezinu obitelj i ona moje prijatelje. Bili smo na početku veze, nešto dulje od mjeseca, kada je održan školski božićni ples.
Thordis Elva: I was 16 and in love for the first time. Going together to the Christmas dance was a public confirmation of our relationship, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. No longer a child, but a young woman. High on my newfound maturity, I felt it was only natural to try drinking rum for the first time that night, too. That was a bad idea. I became very ill, drifting in and out of consciousness in between spasms of convulsive vomiting. The security guards wanted to call me an ambulance, but Tom acted as my knight in shining armor, and told them he'd take me home.
Thordis Elva: Imala sam 16 godina i bila sam prvi put zaljubljena. Zajednički odlazak na ples bila je javna potvrda naše veze i osjećala sam se kao najsretnija djevojka na svijetu. Nisam više bila dijete, nego mlada žena. Opijena novootkrivenom zrelošću te sam večeri odlučila prvi put probati rum. Bila je to loša zamisao. Jako mi je pozlilo, gubila sam svijest između napadaja povraćanja. Zaštitari su željeli pozvati hitnu, no Tom se ponio kao moj vitez-zaštitnik i rekao im da će me odvesti kući.
It was like a fairy tale, his strong arms around me, laying me in the safety of my bed. But the gratitude that I felt towards him soon turned to horror as he proceeded to take off my clothes and get on top of me. My head had cleared up, but my body was still too weak to fight back, and the pain was blinding. I thought I'd be severed in two. In order to stay sane, I silently counted the seconds on my alarm clock. And ever since that night, I've known that there are 7,200 seconds in two hours.
Bilo je to poput bajke, iz svog snažnog naručja spustio me u sigurnost mog kreveta. No zahvalnost prema njemu uskoro se pretvorila u užas kada je krenuo skidati moju odjeću i našao se na meni. U glavi mi se razbistrilo, no tijelo je još bilo preslabo da se odupre, a bol je bila zasljepljujuća. Mislila sam da će me prepoloviti. Kako ne bih izgubila razum, tiho sam brojala sekunde na satu. I od te noći znam da dva sata traju 7,200 sekundi.
Despite limping for days and crying for weeks, this incident didn't fit my ideas about rape like I'd seen on TV. Tom wasn't an armed lunatic; he was my boyfriend. And it didn't happen in a seedy alleyway, it happened in my own bed. By the time I could identify what had happened to me as rape, he had completed his exchange program and left for Australia. So I told myself it was pointless to address what had happened. And besides, it had to have been my fault, somehow.
Iako sam danima šepala i tjednima plakala, događaj nije odgovarao mojim predodžbama o silovanju. Tom nije bio naoružani luđak; bio je moj dečko. To se nije dogodilo u mračnoj uličici, nego u mom vlastitom krevetu. Do trenutka kada sam ono što mi se dogodilo bila spremna nazvati silovanjem, on je već završio program razmjene i otišao u Australiju. Rekla sam sebi da je uzaludno baviti se onim što je prošlo. Osim toga, sigurno je to nekako bila moja krivnja.
I was raised in a world where girls are taught that they get raped for a reason. Their skirt was too short, their smile was too wide, their breath smelled of alcohol. And I was guilty of all of those things, so the shame had to be mine. It took me years to realize that only one thing could have stopped me from being raped that night, and it wasn't my skirt, it wasn't my smile, it wasn't my childish trust. The only thing that could've stopped me from being raped that night is the man who raped me -- had he stopped himself.
Odgajana sam u svijetu koji je učio djevojke da se silovanje događa s razlogom. Suknja je bila prekratka, osmijeh preširok, dah im je mirisao na alkohol. Sve se to odnosilo na mene pa je i sramota bila moja. Dugo je trebalo da shvatim da jedino što je moglo spriječiti silovanje te noći nije bila moja suknja, nije bio moj osmijeh, nije bilo moje djetinje povjerenje. Spriječiti silovanje te noći mogao je samo muškarac koji me silovao -- da je zaustavio sebe.
TS: I have vague memories of the next day: the after effects of drinking, a certain hollowness that I tried to stifle. Nothing more. But I didn't show up at Thordis's door. It is important to now state that I didn't see my deed for what it was. The word "rape" didn't echo around my mind as it should've, and I wasn't crucifying myself with memories of the night before. It wasn't so much a conscious refusal, it was more like any acknowledgment of reality was forbidden. My definition of my actions completely refuted any recognition of the immense trauma I caused Thordis. To be honest, I repudiated the entire act in the days afterwards and when I was committing it. I disavowed the truth by convincing myself it was sex and not rape. And this is a lie I've felt spine-bending guilt for.
TS: Mutna su mi sjećanja na sljedeći dan: posljedice alkohola, praznina koju sam nastojao zatomiti. Ništa više. Ali nisam otišao k Thordis. Važno je napomenuti da nisam bio posve svjestan onoga što sam učinio. Riječ "silovanje" nije odzvanjala u mom umu kao što je trebala, a ja se nisam mučio uspomenama na prošlu noć. Nije to bilo svjesno nijekanje, nego kao da je bilo zabranjeno priznati stvarnost. Moja definicija vlastitog ponašanja opovrgavala je priznanje neizmjerne traume koju sam uzrokovao Thordis. Iskreno, danima poslije nijekao sam cijeli čin kao i dok sam to činio. Poricao sam istinu uvjeravajući se da je to bio seks, a ne silovanje. I zbog te laži osjećam užasnu krivnju.
I broke up with Thordis a couple of days later, and then saw her a number of times during the remainder of my year in Iceland, feeling a sharp stab of heavyheartedness each time. Deep down, I knew I'd done something immeasurably wrong. But without planning it, I sunk the memories deep, and then I tied a rock to them.
Prekinuo sam s Thordis nekoliko dana kasnije, poslije sam je nekoliko puta vidio tijekom ostatka moje godine na Islandu, svaki sam put osjetio težinu oko srca. Duboko u sebi znao sam da sam učinio nešto jako loše. Ne planirajući to, duboko sam potopio sjećanja, vežući ih kamenom.
What followed is a nine-year period that can best be titled as "Denial and Running." When I got a chance to identify the real torment that I caused, I didn't stand still long enough to do so. Whether it be via distraction, substance use, thrill-seeking or the scrupulous policing of my inner speak, I refused to be static and silent.
Sljedeće razdoblje od devet godina može se opisati kao "Poricanje i bijeg." Kada sam dobio priliku identificirati muku koju sam izazvao, nisam mirovao dovoljno da bih to mogao. Odvraćanjem pažnje, opijatima, adrenalinskim sportovima ili savjesnim nadziranjem unutarnjeg monologa, odbijao sam biti miran i tih.
And with this noise, I also drew heavily upon other parts of my life to construct a picture of who I was. I was a surfer, a social science student, a friend to good people, a loved brother and son, an outdoor recreation guide, and eventually, a youth worker. I gripped tight to the simple notion that I wasn't a bad person. I didn't think I had this in my bones. I thought I was made up of something else. In my nurtured upbringing, my loving extended family and role models, people close to me were warm and genuine in their respect shown towards women. It took me a long time to stare down this dark corner of myself, and to ask it questions.
I uz tu buku, crpio sam i ostale dijelove života kako bih stvorio sliku sebe. Bio sam surfer, student društvenih znanosti, prijatelj dobrim ljudima, voljeni brat i sin, voditelj rekreativnih aktivnosti, a radio sam i s mladima. Čvrsto sam se držao stajališta da nisam loša osoba. Nisam to imao u sebi. Bio sam bolji od toga. Dok su me brižno odgajali, moja proširena obitelj i uzori, bliski ljudi bili su topli i iskreni u svom poštovanju prema ženama. Trebalo mi je dugo da se zagledam u taj mračni kutak sebe i postavim pitanja.
TE: Nine years after the Christmas dance, I was 25 years old, and headed straight for a nervous breakdown. My self-worth was buried under a soul-crushing load of silence that isolated me from everyone that I cared about, and I was consumed with misplaced hatred and anger that I took out on myself.
TE: Devet godina nakon božićnog plesa, imala sam 25 godina i bila na putu da doživim živčani slom. Osjećaj vlastite vrijednosti bio je zakopan pod teretom tišine koja me izolirala od svih do kojih mi je bilo stalo, a mene su izjedali pogrešno usmjerene mržnja i ljutnja koje sam usmjerila na sebe.
One day, I stormed out of the door in tears after a fight with a loved one, and I wandered into a café, where I asked the waitress for a pen. I always had a notebook with me, claiming that it was to jot down ideas in moments of inspiration, but the truth was that I needed to be constantly fidgeting, because in moments of stillness, I found myself counting seconds again. But that day, I watched in wonder as the words streamed out of my pen, forming the most pivotal letter I've ever written, addressed to Tom. Along with an account of the violence that he subjected me to, the words, "I want to find forgiveness" stared back at me, surprising nobody more than myself. But deep down I realized that this was my way out of my suffering, because regardless of whether or not he deserved my forgiveness, I deserved peace. My era of shame was over.
Jednom sam izjurila van u suzama nakon svađe s voljenom osobom i ušla u lokal, gdje sam konobaricu zamolila za olovku. Uvijek sam sa sobom imala bilježnicu, tvrdeći da mi je trebala kako bih zapisala zamisli u trenucima nadahnuća, no zapravo sam imala potrebu stalno se meškoljiti jer bih se u trenucima tišine zatekla kako opet brojim sekunde. Toga sam se dana čudila riječima koje su tekle iz mene stvarajući najvažnije pismo koje sam ikada napisala, oslovljeno na Toma. Zajedno s opisom nasilja kojemu me podvrgao, riječi "Želim pronaći oprost" zurile su u mene, ne iznenađujući nikoga više od mene same. Duboko u sebi shvaćala sam da je to moj izlaz iz patnje. Neovisno o tome je li on zaslužio moj oprost ili nije, ja sam zaslužila mir. Vrijeme srama za mene je završilo.
Before sending the letter, I prepared myself for all kinds of negative responses, or what I found likeliest: no response whatsoever. The only outcome that I didn't prepare myself for was the one that I then got -- a typed confession from Tom, full of disarming regret. As it turns out, he, too, had been imprisoned by silence. And this marked the start of an eight-year-long correspondence that God knows was never easy, but always honest. I relieved myself of the burdens that I'd wrongfully shouldered, and he, in turn, wholeheartedly owned up to what he'd done. Our written exchanges became a platform to dissect the consequences of that night, and they were everything from gut-wrenching to healing beyond words.
Prije nego što sam poslala pismo, pripremila sam se za sve oblike negativih odgovora ili za ono što sam smatrala najvjerojatnijim: nikakav odgovor. Jedini ishod za koji se nisam pripremila bio je onaj koji sam dobila -- natipkanu Tomovu ispovijest, punu razoružavajućeg žaljenja. Ispostavilo se da je i on bio zatočenik šutnje. To je označilo početak osmogodišnjeg dopisivanja, što nikada nije bilo lako, ali je uvijek bilo iskreno. Oslobodila sam se tereta koji sam nepravedno nosila, a on je svesrdno priznao krivnju za ono što je učinio. Naša je korespondencija postala platforma za seciranje posljedica te noći, koje su bile i potresne i neopisivo iscjeljujuće.
And yet, it didn't bring about closure for me. Perhaps because the email format didn't feel personal enough, perhaps because it's easy to be brave when you're hiding behind a computer screen on the other side of the planet. But we'd begun a dialogue that I felt was necessary to explore to its fullest. So, after eight years of writing, and nearly 16 years after that dire night, I mustered the courage to propose a wild idea: that we'd meet up in person and face our past once and for all.
Ipak, nije mi to donijelo mir. Možda jer dopisivanje preko interneta nije bilo dovoljno osobno, možda jer je lako biti hrabar kada se skrivaš iza računala na drugom kraju svijeta. No započeli smo dijalog i htjela sam to u potpunosti istražiti. Nakon osam godina dopisivanja i gotovo 16 godina nakon te strašne noći, skupila sam hrabrost i predložila nešto ludo: osobni susret tijekom kojeg ćemo se suočiti s prošlošću.
TS: Iceland and Australia are geographically like this. In the middle of the two is South Africa. We decided upon the city of Cape Town, and there we met for one week. The city itself proved to be a stunningly powerful environment to focus on reconciliation and forgiveness. Nowhere else has healing and rapprochement been tested like it has in South Africa. As a nation, South Africa sought to sit within the truth of its past, and to listen to the details of its history. Knowing this only magnified the effect that Cape Town had on us.
TS: Island i Australija geografski ovako izgledaju. Među njima je Južna Afrika. Odlučili smo se za grad Cape Town, gdje smo se viđali tijekom 7 dana. Sam grad pokazao se kao iznimno moćno okruženje za usredotočenost na pomirenje i oprost. Nigdje iscjeljenje i ogorčenost nisu toliko iskušavani kao u Južnoj Africi. Kao nacija, Južna Afrika nastojala je prihvatiti svoju prošlost i poslušati detalje svoje povijesti. Svijest o tome samo je pojačala učinak koji je Cape Town imao na nas.
Over the course of this week, we literally spoke our life stories to each other, from start to finish. And this was about analyzing our own history. We followed a strict policy of being honest, and this also came with a certain exposure, an open-chested vulnerability. There were gutting confessions, and moments where we just absolutely couldn't fathom the other person's experience. The seismic effects of sexual violence were spoken aloud and felt, face to face. At other times, though, we found a soaring clarity, and even some totally unexpected but liberating laughter. When it came down to it, we did out best to listen to each other intently. And our individual realities were aired with an unfiltered purity that couldn't do any less than lighten the soul.
Tijekom tog tjedna, jedno drugom ispričali smo svoju životnu priču od početka do kraja. Analizirali smo našu prošlost. Iskrenost je bila pravilo kojeg smo se strogo pridržavali i to je podrazumijevalo određeno ogoljavanje, otvorenu ranjivost. Bile su to bolne ispovijesti i trenuci u kojim jednostavno nismo mogli pojmiti iskustvo druge osobe. O potresnim učincima seksualnog nasilja govorili smo naglas i osjećali ih, licem u lice. Katkad smo pak, pronalazili uzvišenu bistrinu pa čak i neočekivani, no oslobađajući smijeh. Jednostavno, nastojali smo pažljivo slušati jedno drugo. I naše su osobne stvarnosti odisale nefiltriranom čistoćom koja nije mogla ništa osim olakšati naše duše.
TE: Wanting to take revenge is a very human emotion -- instinctual, even. And all I wanted to do for years was to hurt Tom back as deeply as he had hurt me. But had I not found a way out of the hatred and anger, I'm not sure I'd be standing here today. That isn't to say that I didn't have my doubts along the way. When the plane bounced on that landing strip in Cape Town, I remember thinking, "Why did I not just get myself a therapist and a bottle of vodka like a normal person would do?"
TE: Želja za osvetom ljudska je emocija -- čak instinktivna. Godinama sam samo željela povrijediti Toma onako kako je on povrijedio mene. No da nisam pronašla izlaz iz mržnje i ljutnje, nisam sigurna da bih danas ovdje stajala. To ne znači da nisam imala dvojbi. Kada je zrakoplov sletio u Cape Town, pomislila sam, "Zašto si jednostavno ne nađem terapeuta i bocu votke kao što bi učinio netko normalan?"
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
At times, our search for understanding in Cape Town felt like an impossible quest, and all I wanted to do was to give up and go home to my loving husband, Vidir, and our son. But despite our difficulties, this journey did result in a victorious feeling that light had triumphed over darkness, that something constructive could be built out of the ruins.
Katkad se naša potraga za razumijevanjem u Cape Townu činila gotovo nemogućom misijom i sve što sam željela bilo je odustati i vratiti se voljenom suprugu, Vidiru, i našem sinu. No usprkos teškoćama, putovanje je završilo s pobjednonosnim osjećajem da je svjetlo pobijedilo tamu, da se nešto konstruktivno može izgraditi iz ruševina.
I read somewhere that you should try and be the person that you needed when you were younger. And back when I was a teenager, I would have needed to know that the shame wasn't mine, that there's hope after rape, that you can even find happiness, like I share with my husband today. Which is why I started writing feverishly upon my return from Cape Town, resulting in a book co-authored by Tom, that we hope can be of use to people from both ends of the perpetrator-survivor scale. If nothing else, it's a story that we would've needed to hear when we were younger.
Negdje sam pročitala da trebamo nastojati biti osobe kakve smo trebali kada smo bili mlađi. Kada sam bila adolescent, trebala mi je spoznaja da sram nije moj, da postoji nada poslije silovanja, da je čak moguće pronaći sreću, kakvu danas dijelim sa svojim suprugom. Zato sam grozničavo počela pisati kada sam se vratila iz Cape Towna, tako je nastala knjiga koju supotpisujem s Tomom, a koja će nadamo se biti korisna ljudima s obje strane, žrtve i počinitelja. Ako ništa drugo, to je priča koju smo trebali čuti kada smo bili mlađi.
Given the nature of our story, I know the words that inevitably accompany it -- victim, rapist -- and labels are a way to organize concepts, but they can also be dehumanizing in their connotations. Once someone's been deemed a victim, it's that much easier to file them away as someone damaged, dishonored, less than. And likewise, once someone has been branded a rapist, it's that much easier to call him a monster -- inhuman. But how will we understand what it is in human societies that produces violence if we refuse to recognize the humanity of those who commit it? And how --
S obzirom na prirodu naše priče, postoje riječi kojima je uvijek popraćena -- žrtva, silovatelj -- njima označavamo koncepte, no mogu biti dehumanizirajuće u svojim značenjima. Kada je netko označen kao žrtva, puno je lakše strpati ga u ladicu oštećenoga, obeščašćenoga, manje vrijednoga. Isto tako, ako je netko obilježen kao silovatelj, puno je lakše nazvati ga čudovištem -- neljudskim. No kako ćemo razumjeti što u ljudskom društvu izaziva nasilje, ako odbijamo prepoznati ljudskost u onima koji nasilje počine? I kako --
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
And how can we empower survivors if we're making them feel less than? How can we discuss solutions to one of the biggest threats to the lives of women and children around the world, if the very words we use are part of the problem?
Kako ćemo osnažiti preživjele, ako se osjećaju manje vrijedno? Kako ćemo razgovarati o rješenjima za neke od najvećih prijetnji životima žena i djece diljem svijeta kada su same riječi koje koristimo dio problema?
TS: From what I've now learnt, my actions that night in 1996 were a self-centered taking. I felt deserving of Thordis's body. I've had primarily positive social influences and examples of equitable behavior around me. But on that occasion, I chose to draw upon the negative ones. The ones that see women as having less intrinsic worth, and of men having some unspoken and symbolic claim to their bodies. These influences I speak of are external to me, though. And it was only me in that room making choices, nobody else.
TS: Naučio sam iz svega da je moje ponašanje te noći 1996. bilo usredotočeno na mene samoga. Osjećao sam da zaslužujem Thordisino tijelo. Bio sam izložen pozitivnim društvenim utjecajima i primjerima ponašanja utemeljenog na jednakosti. No tom prilikom, poveo sam se za lošim principima. Onima prema kojima su žene manje vrijedne, a muškarci imaju prešutno i simboličko pravo na njihova tijela. Govorim o vanjskim utjecajima. U toj sam sobi ja donosio odluke, nitko drugi.
When you own something and really square up to your culpability, I do think a surprising thing can happen. It's what I call a paradox of ownership. I thought I'd buckle under the weight of responsibility. I thought my certificate of humanity would be burnt. Instead, I was offered to really own what I did, and found that it didn't possess the entirety of who I am. Put simply, something you've done doesn't have to constitute the sum of who you are. The noise in my head abated. The indulgent self-pity was starved of oxygen, and it was replaced with the clean air of acceptance -- an acceptance that I did hurt this wonderful person standing next to me; an acceptance that I am part of a large and shockingly everyday grouping of men who have been sexually violent toward their partners.
Kada priznaš nešto i zaista prihvatiš svoju krivnju, može se dogoditi nešto iznenađujuće. Nazivam to paradoksom priznanja. Mislio sam da ću se slomiti pod teretom odgovornosti, da će potvrda moje ljudskosti nestati. Umjesto toga, ponuđeno mi je da preuzmem krivnju, no otkrio sam da ona nije preuzela sve ono što ja jesam. Jednostavno rečeno, nešto što ste učinili nije nužno zbroj onoga tko ste. Jenjavala je buka u mojoj glavi. Samosažaljenje kojem sam se prepustio ostalo je bez kisika i zamijenio ga je čisti zrak prihvaćanja -- prihvaćanja činjenice da sam povrijedio ovu divnu osobu pored mene; prihvaćanja da sam dio velike i svakidašnje skupine muškaraca koji su izložili partnerice seksualnom nasilju.
Don't underestimate the power of words. Saying to Thordis that I raped her changed my accord with myself, as well as with her. But most importantly, the blame transferred from Thordis to me. Far too often, the responsibility is attributed to female survivors of sexual violence, and not to the males who enact it. Far too often, the denial and running leaves all parties at a great distance from the truth. There's definitely a public conversation happening now, and like a lot of people, we're heartened that there's less retreating from this difficult but important discussion. I feel a real responsibility to add our voices to it.
Ne podcjenjujte moć riječi. Kada sam rekao Thordis da sam je silovao, promijenio se moj odnos prema sebi samom, kao i prema njoj. No najvažnije, krivnja je s Thordis prešla na mene. Prečesto odgovornost preuzimaju žene koje su preživjele seksualno nasilje, a ne muškarci koji su ga počinili. Prečesto zbog poricanja i bijega obje strane odu predaleko od istine. Trenutno je aktualna javna rasprava i kao mnogi drago nam je da je sve manje izbjegavanja ove teške, ali važne rasprave. Osjećam se odgovornim da joj pridonesem svojim glasom.
TE: What we did is not a formula that we're prescribing for others. Nobody has the right to tell anyone else how to handle their deepest pain or their greatest error. Breaking your silence is never easy, and depending on where you are in the world, it can even be deadly to speak out about rape. I realize that even the most traumatic event of my life is still a testament to my privilege, because I can talk about it without getting ostracized, or even killed. But with that privilege of having a voice comes the responsibility of using it. That's the least I owe my fellow survivors who can't.
TE: Ono što smo učinili nije formula koju propisujemo ostalima. Nitko nema pravo drugome govoriti kako se nositi s najdubljom boli ili najvećom pogrješkom. Nikada nije lako prekinuti šutnju, a ovisno o tome gdje u svijetu se nalazite, može biti i smrtonosno progovoriti o silovanju. Uvidjela sam da čak i najtraumatičniji događaj u mom životu svjedoči o mojoj privilegiranosti jer mogu o njemu govoriti, a da me ne stigmatiziraju ili čak ubiju. No s privilegijom prava glasa dolazi i odgovornost da se to pravo iskoristi. Dugujem to preživjelima koje nemaju tu privilegiju.
The story we've just relayed is unique, and yet it is so common with sexual violence being a global pandemic. But it doesn't have to be that way. One of the things that I found useful on my own healing journey is educating myself about sexual violence. And as a result, I've been reading, writing and speaking about this issue for over a decade now, going to conferences around the world. And in my experience, the attendees of such events are almost exclusively women. But it's about time that we stop treating sexual violence as a women's issue.
Naša je priča jedinstvena, a opet i tako uobičajena jer je seksualno nasilje poput epidemije. No ne mora biti tako. Na putu iscjeljenja pomogla mi je edukacija o seksualnom nasilju. Čitam, pišem i govorim o ovome više od deset godina, obilazim konferencije diljem svijeta. Iz osobnog iskustva, te konferencije posjećuju gotovo isključivo žene. Moramo se prestati ponašati kao da je seksualno nasilje ženski problem.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
A majority of sexual violence against women and men is perpetrated by men. And yet their voices are sorely underrepresented in this discussion. But all of us are needed here. Just imagine all the suffering we could alleviate if we dared to face this issue together.
U većini slučajeva seksualnog nasilja prema ženama i muškarcima počinitelji su muškarci. No oni u ovoj raspravi gotovo i ne sudjeluju. Svi se trebaju uključiti. Zamislite patnju koju možemo izbjeći usudimo li se zajedno suočiti s ovim problemom.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)