The Oxford abuse case and the myth of the “good girl” victim

It is widely believed that ‘true’ victims are always happy and willing to co-operate with the authorities and that ‘good girls’ would never accept payment for their own exploitation and that they would always contrive to escape such situations. That's not

The prosecution of nine men aged 24 to 38 for sexually exploiting underage girls in the Oxford area concluded at the Old Bailey on 14 May 2013 with seven of the men found guilty. One of the six victims described the period of abuse between 2004 and 2012 as a “living hell”. Another spoke of the fact that “they constantly take advantage and treat me like a piece of meat they can just tread all over.” This tragic case is only part of the broader problem of sexual exploitation plaguing the country.

Disclosures about Jimmy Savile’s predatory sexual nature, the abuse of ‘looked-after’ and vulnerable children in Rochdale by Asian gangs, and the suicide of Frances Andrade shortly after giving evidence at the trial of her former music teacher brought child exploitation and abuse into the media spotlight as never before.

The stories emerging from these cases have shed light on why victims are often reluctant to report sexual abuse: fear of retribution from the offender, worries about the stigma of sexual abuse, embarrassment, concerns that they will not be believed, and worries about whether the legal system will deal effectively with their case are among the key reasons victims fail to report sexual crimes. Frances Andrade’s lack of confidence that the system would ‘work’ demonstrates how devastating these fears can be for victims.

Common but mistaken prejudices regarding victims of sexual crimes compound this problem. For instance, it is widely believed that ‘true’ victims are always happy and willing to cooperate with the authorities and that ‘good girls’ would never accept payment for their own exploitation and that they would always contrive to escape such situations. This overlooks both the fact that coercion by abusers exacerbates young girls’ lack of trust in law enforcement and social services and that many victims are emotionally attached in some way to their abusers. Often described as ‘nice guys’ by friends and colleagues, many abusers befriend and seduce their victims, taking advantage of their vulnerability. The Savile and Rochdale cases show that abusers further discourage girls from seeking help by conditioning them to fear punishment by law enforcement.

One of the greatest challenges in addressing child sexual abuse and exploitation is the hidden nature of such crimes, given that the majority of cases go unreported. In his now notorious email to producer Meirion Jones, former Newsnight editor Peter Rippon casually dismissed Jimmy Savile’s victims as “just the women”: a statement indicative of the hostile attitudes directed, until recently, toward Savile’s victims. It is these very attitudes that make many victims reluctant to come forward. As one of the Oxford victims stated in her evidence at the Old Bailey, “Some pretty awful things happened … At the time I did not feel people believed me. I did not feel anything was being done about it. There was a lot of self-doubt.”

Children are particularly vulnerable to abuse and exploitation wherever there is poverty and deprivation. The reality of this problem must be recognised if cases are to be effectively investigated, prosecuted and prevented. It is time to address the intersection of racism, sexism and class prejudices apparent in cases such as the recent Rochdale and Oxford ones.

In November 2012, the Office of the Children’s Commissioner published the inquiry ‘Child Sexual Exploitation in Gangs and Groups’. The inquiry found that the vast majority of perpetrators are men; some are as young as fourteen, while others are elderly. They, and their victims, are ethnically diverse. Thus, the current trend to regard child sexual exploitation as particularly common among Asian gangs ignores the statistics. Critically, it oversimplifies the role of the social injustices, especially poverty and neglect, which often lie at the root of sexual exploitation. It also occludes failures on the part of statutory agencies to allocate adequate resources for the protection and support of child victims.

Until a coordinated multi‐agency strategy is created, a shared understanding of the problem of sexual exploitation cannot be developed and progress is likely to remain piecemeal, allowing agencies to individually and collectively deny accountability, both for their actions and for their failures to act. In the Savile and Rochdale cases, child welfare organisations, and also the criminal justice system, missed many opportunities for co-ordinated, timely responses. Until sufficient training for statutory and voluntary service workers is provided about the issues facing children at risk of exploitation, these problems will remain even if there are positive legislative changes. Effective and consistent training of the police, social workers, health workers, and youth and community workers is essential to implementing organised, effective reforms.

In her 1994 poem ‘The Rock Cries Out to Us Today’, Maya Angelou wrote that “history, despite its wrenching pain,/ Cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage,/ Need not be lived again”. As we seek to encourage survivors of child sexual exploitation to find the strength to speak out about the crimes committed against them, we must also strive to create effective support services. Only then will victims have the help and protection they need to speak out safely and with confidence that not only will they be believed, but that the system will not let them down.

Dr Aisha K. Gill is a Reader in Criminology at the University of Roehampton.

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Dr Aisha K Gill is a Reader in Criminology at University of Roehampton.

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Rarely has it mattered so little if Manchester United won; rarely has it been so special they did

Team's Europa League victory offers chance for sorely needed celebration of a city's spirit.

Carlo Ancelotti, the Bayern Munich manager, memorably once said that football is “the most important of the least important things”, but he was only partly right. While it is absolutely the case that a bunch of people chasing around a field is insignificant, a bunch of people chasing around a field is not really what football is about.

At a football match can you set aside the strictures that govern real life and freely scream, shout and cuddle strangers. Football tracks life with such unfailing omnipresence, garnishing the mundane with regular doses of drama and suspense; football is amazing, and even when it isn’t there’s always the possibility that it’s about to be.

Football bestows primal paroxysms of intense, transcendent ecstasy, shared both with people who mean everything and people who mean nothing. Football carves out time for people it's important to see and delivers people it becomes important to see. Football is a structure with folklore, mythology, language and symbols; being part of football is being part of something big, special, and eternal. Football is the best thing in the world when things go well, and still the best thing in the world when they don’t. There is nothing remotely like it. Nothing.

Football is about community and identity, friends and family; football is about expression and abandon, laughter and song; football is about love and pride. Football is about all the beauty in the world.

And the world is a beautiful place, even though it doesn’t always seem that way – now especially. But in the horror of terror we’ve seen amazing kindness, uplifting unity and awesome dignity which is the absolute point of everything.

In Stockholm last night, 50,000 or so people gathered for a football match, trying to find a way of celebrating all of these things. Around town before the game the atmosphere was not as boisterous as usual, but in the ground the old conviction gradually returned. The PA played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds, an Ajax staple with lyrics not entirely appropriate: there is plenty about which to worry, and for some every little thing is never going to be alright.

But somehow the sentiment felt right and the Mancunian contingent joined in with gusto, following it up with “We’ll never die,” – a song of defiance born from the ashes of the Munich air disaster and generally aired at the end of games, often when defeat is imminent. Last night it was needed from the outset, though this time its final line – “we’ll keep the red flag flying high, coz Man United will never die" – was not about a football team but a city, a spirit, and a way of life. 

Over the course of the night, every burst of song and even the minute's silence chorused with that theme: “Manchester, Manchester, Manchester”; “Manchester la la la”; “Oh Manchester is wonderful”. Sparse and simple words, layered and complex meanings.

The match itself was a curious affair. Rarely has it mattered so little whether or not United won; rarely has it been so special that they did. Manchester United do not represent or appeal to everyone in Manchester but they epitomise a similar brilliance to Manchester, brilliance which they take to the world. Brilliance like youthfulness, toughness, swagger and zest; brilliance which has been to the fore these last three days, despite it all.

Last night they drew upon their most prosaic aspects, outfighting and outrunning a willing but callow opponent to win the only trophy to have eluded them. They did not make things better, but they did bring happiness and positivity at a time when happiness and positivity needed to be brought; football is not “the most important of the least important things,” it is the least important of the most important things.

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