Introducing: Survivors on Screen

A new series about how sexual violence is portrayed in TV and film

Please be aware that some readers might find this post triggering. 

When I think back to the time in my life when I was trying to come to terms with the violence I’d experienced as a child, what I remember most is a profound sense of isolation. Nobody talked about sexual violence back then, and the only books I could find on the topic were pink-hued self-help books, academic texts and the occasional memoir.¹ 

Sexual violence was rarely a central theme in film or TV shows either. For decades, all we had was Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. (538 episodes & counting!) and later, Game of Thrones which included 17 portrayals of rape/attempted rape in 67 episodes.

Shows like these objectify sexual harm, using women’s bodies to depict extreme violence which is often used as a plot device to further the character development of the male protagonist. Almost always, stories of sexual violence are framed as crime stories. Sexual violence obviously is a crime (though one of the easiest ones to get away it!), but it’s not only that. It’s also a public health emergency impacting 1 in 3 women worldwide.²

I have consumed so much culture on this topic over the years. I’ve read dozens of books, hundreds of articles and seen many, many TV shows and films. All the while I’ve been searching for one specific story: I wanted to consume something that centred the survivor as they came to terms with their experiences and built a happy, fulfilling life in the aftermath. When you go through something horrible, you need to know that there’s a way forward. You need to know that it’s possible to build a better life. 

I now know that’s true, not from the culture I consumed but from my own experience. I have (to a large extent) recovered and built a great life for myself. I’ll never “get over” what happened to me as a child, but I have found a way to build a meaningful, joyful life alongside it. 

Perhaps the biggest challenge in my recovery was the profound sense of isolation I felt and, if I’m honest, still sometimes feel. When I disclosed what had happened to me, people often didn’t know what to say. They told me I was “too high functioning” to be traumatised, that I wouldn’t be believed. Phrases like “damaed goods” were commonly used to describe survivors. The people I confided in often had no point of reference, no way to understand what I had been through or what I might need. Almost always, they drifted out of my life. Rarely did I get the support I so desperately needed. 

Many people’s responses were rooted in rape culture. We live in a society which minimises sexual violence. Rape is excused, laughed off and considered to be a problem impacting only small numbers of women who were probably “asking for it” anyway. Rarely, do we consider the long term harm of sexual violence or how it impacts not just victims/survivors of all genders, but their friends, families, partners, colleagues and wider society. 

Harmful, reductive depictions of sexual violence in TV and film have real consequences for survivors. These cultural products carry and reinforce dangerous attitudes which lionise predators, dehumanise survivors and trivialise the life-long consequences of sexual trauma. This burden always lands on the survivor. They must overcome not only the harm they’ve experienced, but how the people in their life respond to it. Many people decide not to disclose. For me, that has often been the wiser, safer choice. But it also means that there are still great oceans of silence around one of the most devastating & most common human experiences. 

In the aftermath of Trump’s election in November 2016, media institutions focused more of their resources on uncovering stories of systemic sexual abuse. In October 2017, the New York Times published their first story on Harvey Weinstein who was later found guilty of rape and sexual assault.

The reporting prompted Alyssa Milano to publish the above tweet. In response, more than 1.7 million tweets in 85 countries used the #MeToo hashtag. Facebook also published statistics showing that there were more than 12 million posts, comments and reactions regarding "Me Too" by 4.7 million users around the world, in less than 24 hours. This viral moment changed the world, but the “Me Too” movement existed long before that. 

Founded by survivor and activist Tarana Burke in 2006, it is a “global, and survivor-led, movement against sexual violence, [which is] dedicated to creating pathways for healing, justice, action and leadership.” Since then, the two entities (the organisation founded by Tarana Burke and the viral moment) have become intertwined.

The viral moment was a strange time for me. I was working in a toxic organisation and struggling to stay above water. While many people were shocked at the extent of the abuse, I felt a grim sense of resignation. It was strange to watch people rush toward a topic I’d been deeply immersed in for many years. As if, in the weeks after the first story, people realised “gee, sexual violence, it’s a real thing”. 

Since then, I have found tremendous comfort in Tarana Burke’s work. I’ve watched countless interviews she’s given, read her books³ and absorbed her thought-leadership in this area. I’ve also seen the difference between the work she was leading and how the media presented it. The fact that she’s a black woman and a self-described “servant leader” was undoubtedly part of that. It’s been very disheartening to see her work be co-opted and misrepresented by those who fail to understand her mission or the true extent of the problem we face. 

The sudden prevalence of sexual violence on the news agenda also preempted an increase in the number of films and TV shows on the topic that suddenly got made. Some of them have been great. Others less so. But it is welcome to see this aspect of human life depicted on screen.

We look to art to help us understand ourselves and each other. How the culture thinks and talks about survivors deeply impacts our lives. 

This is very rich ground to excavate. From the crazy-making episode of ‘The Newsroom’ to this female-centric show about how a teenage survivor was let down by the system. From journalistic procedurals like ‘She Said’ to darkly comic films like ‘Promising Young Women’. I want to critique movies like ‘Women Talking’ which imagine a different kind of future and films like ‘The Tale’ which reconsider the trauma of the past. How is the story of sexual violence reframed when survivors are in charge?  

Film and TV is where I absorbed the lie that women who are assaulted are “asking for it”. That it’s women’s responsibility to prevent male violence. Films were where I learned that stalking, coercive control and “not taking no for an answer” were not abusive behaviours, but part of a romantic comedy plot. It’s where I learned that what women want and desire isn’t real, that women exist only through the male gaze, as something to serve and soothe men. 

We now know that the people men who were telling these stories were systematically abusing women and covering it up. We know that cottage industries of cover up and deceit were developed to keep these men in power, and how wealth and privilege were deemed more important than protecting people from harm. 

In many ways, popular culture was at the root of this problem but it also has the power to help change it. 

In this series, I hope to critique films and TV shows that explore themes of sexual violence with nuance and complexity. My experience as a survivor will be part of that critique, but so will my experience as an audience member. I’m not interested in analysing public service announcements, or worthy but dull films. I want to be moved, informed and above all, entertained by what I watch. 

I hope to highlight and celebrate films and TV shows which portray this topic with sensitivity and grace. Stories that depict survivors as whole, flawed people capable of recovery but not invulnerable to making mistakes. My goal is to reflect on these cultural products and to make some space for us to consider our own roles in rape culture. How do we prop it up? And, how does it harm us? 

I hope that this series will be accessible to other survivors. Though each installment will come with a clear content warning, my intention is not to dwell in the details of the harm portrayed on screen but in what it tells us about society at large. For me, it’s a way to explore a topic I care deeply about without having to excavate my personal trauma or navigate the legal issues that come with telling the truth. 

Ultimately, I hope this series will remind survivors that their lives and experiences are worthy of being depicted on screen. That they are not alone, but part of a long history of survivors moving forward despite what has happened to them. 

If you’d like to support this project, please consider making a donation towards the costs. Academic books & articles are not cheap, and the time I spend working on this series is time I’m not doing my paid work. I may, at some point, put some of the content behind a paywall but I do want to make sure that this content is always free for survivors. 

The other way to support it is by sharing this with someone you think might be interested. In the vast algorithmic world of the internet, that is still the best way to spread the world. 

Suggestions for things to watch are very welcome via the comments below, or via email. 

The first installment of the Survivors on Screen series will be on ‘Promising Young Woman’ and will be published next week. 

Thanks for being here!

1. I've lots more to say on reading about sexual violence another time.

2. The WHO unhelpfully focuses its messaging on women and girls, but sexual violence impacts people of all genders.

3. I especially recommend her memoir, Unbound.