Who is the real victim here?

It is a long-established trope that victims of crime must fit a stereotype in order to fully deserve the justice available to them.  Desirable qualities include being law-abiding, hard-working and friendly, while race and class are significant determinants in the media reporting of crime.  Moreover, the “ideal victim” should be weak and defenceless; ultimately, their character and actions must ensure that they are blameless for the violation inflicted on them.  In the arena of gender-based violence in particular, the “ideal victim” status has held steadfast for centuries, where youth and physical beauty are frequently additional requirements for entitlement to justice.

For women who do not fit the ideal – notably sex workers, petty criminals, transgender women and drug/alcohol users, but also women who have a social life, a sexual history and who dare to walk alone at night, wear short skirts or have children by more than one father – the battle for justice is riddled with obstacles.  Credibility is questioned and reparations are often conditional.  This attitude is often endorsed by the very criminal justice systems that are supposed to impartially uphold the law.   The BBC’s excellent “Three Girls” (2017) showed how one CSE victim, as a young single mother, was not deemed to be helpful for the prosecution’s case and was consequently excluded from providing her witness testimony in court.  CEDAW’s Vertido v The Philippines case demonstrated that sexual stereotypes of both genders had underpinned the trial judge’s decision to acquit Vertido’s rapist.   In addition to the claimant not meeting the standards of the “ideal victim”, the court had made assumptions that the accused, a man in his sixties, was too old to be capable of sexual violence.  Although this belief is detrimental to older men, it was the woman who suffered its consequences. 

However, the defenceless image is in conflict with the other much-used clichés of gender-based violence: “Why didn’t she shout for help/fight him off?” or, specifically relating to domestic abuse: “Why doesn’t she just leave?”  Aside from the obvious answers to these questions, the dichotomic implication is that the ideal victim must shed her demure nature in the face of physical threats and display a level of assertiveness that will clarify to both the perpetrator and a potential future jury that she does not welcome the violence.   Strikingly, in my experience of jury decisions during several years of victim support, other women are more likely than men to discredit a female witness who has not fought back in some way, based on the belief that this is exactly what they would do in the same situation.  The “ideal victim”, therefore, should only express agency under duress. 

Meanwhile, back in the real world, neither of these expectations accurately depict the type of woman who experiences gender-based violence.  The truth is, there is no “type”.  Some offenders will prey on perceived vulnerabilities as low hanging fruit, seeking the easiest route to overpowering and controlling their subject.  Other perpetrators enjoy the long game and look for the biggest challenge to overcome: for them, the more successful, popular and confident she is, the harder she will fall.  In any event, the risk of experiencing gender-based violence in one’s lifetime, given the known statistical evidence, is too high. 

The truth is, there is no “type”

Where social and cultural norms are reinforced by criminal justice processes, the system in turn feeds the message back that only suitable candidates need apply for their day in court.   This exacerbates the fear of not being believed in an adversarial legal system, skewing reporting rates for gender-based violence as women opt not to seek professional assistance.  Worse, the “ideal victim” image has long-term implications for women who are unable to recognise themselves in the popular narrative.  It can extend a toxic relationship, leave them with serious doubts about their own judgement and isolate them from the very support networks that would help them through their trauma. 

Changing the law does not automatically alter societal attitudes, but we need to encourage a far more inclusive, diverse understanding of gender-based violence and its survivors.  By recognising victims as real people with often complex lives, we can move towards reducing the kind of prejudice and misogyny that leads to these crimes in the first place.


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