Knowing

A couple of years ago, i made the decision to stay friends with a rapist. It was a decision i immediately regretted, and within a few months i ended that friendship and all association with that person. i’ve never written about it, and have struggled to talk about it except with my closest people. i think it’s time. Maybe because i hope it will help others who find themselves in this situation. Maybe because i’m burdened with shame and need to lance it like a boil. Maybe because i’m just angry – at them for what they did to their victim or victims, and at them for destroying our relationship, and at the people who still support and enable them, and at the world where this scenario plays out over and over again and people say allegations “ruin peoples lives” when the evidence is that actually, they don’t. Accountability is hard to find, hard to hold, hard to see.

Maybe too i haven’t talked about it because it’s not about me. i’m uncomfortable centring myself in a story that is ultimately about the violation of someone i don’t even know, but the only version of this story i have to tell is mine and about my place in it all. i don’t know how to navigate that, but i will do my best because i don’t think silence is ever the best solution.

i was arranging a play party at my flat with my then partner and a few kinky friends, and for the first time decided to invite a friend who i hadn’t before, we’ll call them N. i’d been close with N almost all of my adult life, but hadn’t invited them before because we’d previously had a relationship and i thought it might be a bit awkward. It was years since our relationship ended though, and since breaking up we’d both discovered our kinkiness so i extended an invitation and they accepted.

A few days before the party, someone reached out to me to make me aware of three allegations of sexual assault by N over the last few months. N had not mentioned these to me. i immediately contacted them to talk about it. Even before that conversation started, i was distressed to realise i didn’t doubt what i’d been told and wasn’t even entirely surprised – i hadn’t seen it coming, but i had seen something. A conversation about a potential partner where N had sounded entitled, pushy, and said something about convincing them which i can’t remember word for word but i do remember shouting at them “you are terrifying me.” And it was a one off and nothing bad happened (that i know of) and they never did anything wrong to me in our relationship and i didn’t let that discomfort and fear sit in me long enough to understand it. But now the pieces were falling into place.

There were three allegations. N denied two of them, and gave very plausible sounding explanations for why they were false. At the time, even with what came next i believed them. Perhaps because they were so open and seemingly honest with the rest of the conversation. Now, on reflection, i don’t know. However what is in no doubt is the third incident, where they admitted to having raped someone, although they did not use that word, it is exactly what they described.

The details are not mine to discuss, but N did say that they were under the influence at the time, and had not intended to do what they did. i don’t believe you can rape by accident. You can make people uncomfortable by accident, cross a boundary, misunderstand specifics of what has or has not been consented to, but there is a point where at best you have taken a reckless disinterest in consent, even if not actively choosing to violate it. They said they wanted to change, work on their mental health and their drinking, do the work and make sure it never happened again. That, i believed. i believe people – even people who have done terrible things – can change. i believe people are capable of good. i also know that real positive change doesn’t happen in isolation. People are social creatures and connection brings out the best in us. i thought staying part of their life would make them less likely to fail, less likely to harm someone else. i felt i owed them, too – our relationship had crossed over a period of my life where i had been in crisis with drug addiction and i know i was a stress and a burden on them. The things they witnessed during that time have had a permanent impact on their mental health. i have caused harm to this person. Naturally, i did not allow them to come to the party. But i said i would stay their friend.

Over the weeks that followed i processed what had happened and found myself increasingly uncomfortable with our friendship. We didn’t talk one on one much. We were in a group chat and i found myself lurking and dropping the odd emoji rather than engaging. But in that chat i also saw red flags emerging – they were planning an orgy, they were meeting new partners. i tried to imagine what i would do if i found out i had “accidentally” raped someone – even if i hypothetically accept that as a thing – and couldn’t imagine wanting to have sex at all, much less with anyone i didn’t already know well. i thought i would be paralysed with fear of unintentionally crossing even the most minor of boundaries. i questioned their judgement and commitment to change, but only to myself. i didn’t know where to begin with that conversation, and realised that if my goal was to help them to change and hold them to account i was drastically ill equipped to do it.

i didn’t want to socialise in person, but we had made plans for a group evening out before i knew what they had done. Tickets had been bought in advance, they were looking forward to it, i felt like it would be a dick move to uninvite them when we were at least theoretically friends, so i didn’t. Within minutes of arriving, they had started blatantly flirting with a friend of mine who they did not know. The attraction seemed to be mutual and there was no inappropriate behaviour but i was gnawed at by anxiety all night. My friend did not know N’s history. i could not in good conscience allow them to potentially be in danger by getting involved with N without that knowledge, but hated the thought of telling someone N’s history – it felt like a betrayal, and it felt like it was none of my business. i wasn’t the victim. Everything i knew about this was against my will and i wished i could unknow and not feel trapped in responsibility to fix N and prevent harm and rescue potential victims and somehow stay sane through it all. i told my friend. There was never any possibility that i wouldn’t, i couldn’t have lived with not telling them. But i realised i did not want to be in that situation again. i was not up to the responsibility i had put on myself. i needed distance.

i had thought me and N might just drift gradually out of each others lives, and i hoped we would. Things ultimately came to a head before that could happen, though, when i saw N had friended a person i knew to be a sexual predator on Facebook. i messaged them to give them the heads up and they left me on read. They remained friends with that person for a month with no response to me, and that was the final straw. How can someone say they want to be accountable, change, and understand consent better if they surround themselves with enablers? Because let’s be clear – while i’m tearing myself to bits over this 18 months later, their partners know. Their friends know. This isn’t a secret only i am privy to. There are plenty of people in their life who have no shame at all about being there. i can’t know what conversations they are having and if, perhaps, some of them are better suited to providing meaningful guidance than i was – but i don’t know that they are either. N ultimately did unfriend that particular person (after someone else challenged them on it) but that opened my eyes. i do not believe that they are changing. Some surface behaviour, perhaps – i haven’t heard any more recent allegations of sexual harassment or assault. But i do believe that they are sheltering among people who will minimise what they did and allow them to be rehabilitated without any meaningful action.

Since then i have been regularly reminded that an allegation and full confession of rape does not, in fact, ruin lives. An event they’ll appear at posts an advert talking about how safe, accessible, and inclusive it is and i wonder if the venue knows? i wonder if my friends sharing it know? On a night out one of their partners comes to me to talk about how N misses our friendship and expresses their hope that even if not friends, maybe eventually we can go on the same nights out and to the same parties and it won’t be awkward? i’ve had far too much to drink to find the words to tell them that it’s the last thing i want. A friend asks me why we haven’t patched things up and, caught off guard i’m blunt and honest when i say “they raped someone.” “When? What do you mean?” they ask, horrified, and i tell them. “Oh, that. I knew about that.” The shock and outrage is gone.

i still wish i could unknow. That’s the really fucking cowardly part. i wish i didn’t feel responsible, feel like i should say something every time they’re mentioned but feel like i’m a malicious gossip if i do. i wish there weren’t other people in my life who i now trust much less because of how they reacted. i wish i didn’t have lasting anxiety about hosting play parties – i have done since but it never felt the same again knowing i nearly exposed my friends to a rapist in what should have been a safe environment to play and fuck. i wish i had reacted better, stronger, when i first spoke to them. i wish i’d asked more questions. i wish i’d been more skeptical of their denials of the first two allegations. i wish i’d said to them “You are a rapist. You raped someone. You need to say that and really understand it if you’re going to change in a meaningful way.” But i didn’t, and time moves the only way it moves, and all i can do is understand where i fucked up and hope that if it ever happens again that i am better. i hope anyone N harmed is healing and is loved and supported by people who understand.