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[This talk contains graphic language
and descriptions of sexual violence
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Viewer discretion is advised]
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Tom Stanger: In 1996,
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when I was 18 years old,
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I had the golden opportunity to go
on an international exchange program.
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Ironically, I'm an Australian who
prefers proper icy cold weather,
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so I was both excited and tearful
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when I got on a plane to Iceland
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after just having farewelled
my parents and brothers goodbye.
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I was welcomed into the home
of a beautiful Icelandic family
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who took me hiking,
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and helped me get a grasp
of the melodic Icelandic language.
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I struggled a bit with the initial
period of homesickness.
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I snowboarded after school,
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and I slept a lot.
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Two hours of chemistry class in a language
that you don't yet fully understand
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can be a pretty good sedative.
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(Laughter)
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My teacher recommended
I try out for the school play,
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just to get me a bit more socially active.
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It turns out I didn't end up
being part of the play,
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but through it I met Thordis.
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We shared a lovely teenage romance,
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and we'd met a lunchtimes
to just hold hands
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and walk around
old downtown Reykjavík.
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I met her welcoming family
and she met my friends.
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We'd been in a budding relationship
for a bit over a month
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when our school's Christmas ball was held.
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Thordis Elva: I was 16
and in love for the first time.
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Going together to the Christmas dance
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was a public confirmation
of our relationship,
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and I felt like the luckiest
girl in the world.
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No longer a child but a young woman.
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High on my newfound maturity,
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I felt it was only natural to try drinking
rum for the first time that night, too.
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That was a bad idea.
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I became very ill,
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drifting in and out of consciousness
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in between spasms of convulsive vomiting.
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The security guards wanted
to call me an ambulance,
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but Tom acted as my
knight in shining armor,
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and told them he'd take me home.
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It was like a fairy tale,
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his strong arms around me,
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laying me in the safety of my bed.
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But the gratitude that I felt
toward him soon turned to horror
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as he proceeded to take off my clothes,
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and get on top of me.
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My head had cleared up,
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but my body was still
too weak to fight back,
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and the pain was blinding.
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I thought I'd be severed in two.
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In order to stay sane,
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I silently counted the seconds
on my alarm clock.
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And ever since that night,
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I've known that there are 7,200
seconds in two hours.
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Despite limping for days
and crying for weeks,
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this incident didn't fit my ideas
about rape like I'd seen on TV.
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Tom wasn't an armed lunatic,
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he was my boyfriend.
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And it didn't happen in a seedy alleyway,
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it happened in my own bed.
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By the time I could identify
what had happened to me as rape,
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he had completed his exchange program,
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and left for Australia.
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So I told myself it was pointless
to address what had happened,
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and besides,
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it had to have been my fault, somehow.
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I was raised in a world
where girls are taught
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that they get taped for a reason.
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Their skirt was too short,
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their smile was too wide,
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their breath smelled of alcohol.
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And I was guilty of all of those things,
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so the shame had to be mine.
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It took me years to realize
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that only one thing could have stopped me
from being raped that night,
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and it wasn't my skirt,
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it wasn't my smile,
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it wasn't my childish trust.
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The only thing that could've stopped me
from being raped that night
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is the man who raped me --
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had he stopped himself.
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TS: I have vague memories of the next day:
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the aftereffects of drinking,
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a certain hollowness
that I tried to stifle ...
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nothing more.
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[But I didn't show up at Thordis' door.]
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It is important to now state that I didn't
see my deed for what it was.
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The word rape didn't echo
around my mind as it should've,
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and I wasn't crucifying myself
with memories of the night before.
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It wasn't so much a conscious refusal,
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it was more like any acknowledgment
of reality was forbidden.
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My definition of my actions completely
refuted any recognition
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of the immense trauma I caused Thordis.
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To be honest,
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I repudiated the entire act
in the days afterward
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and when I was committing it.
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I disavowed the truth by convincing
myself it was sex and not rape,
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and this is a lie I felt
spine-bending guilt for.
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I broke up with Thordis
a couple of days later,
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and then saw her a number of times
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during the remainder
of my year in Iceland,
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feeling a sharp stab
of heavyheartedness each time.
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Deep down,
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I knew I'd done something
immeasurably wrong,
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but without planning it,
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I sunk the memories deep,
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and then I tied a rock to them.
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What followed is a nine-year period
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that can best be titled
as "Denial and Running."
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When I got a chance to identify
the real torment that I caused,
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I didn't stand still long enough to do so.
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[Whether it be] by distraction,
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substance use,
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thrill-seeking,
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[or the] scrupulous policing
of my inner speak,
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I refused to be static and silent.
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And with this noise,
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I also drew heavily
upon other parts of my life
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to construct a picture of who I was.
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I was a surfer,
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a social science student,
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a friend to good people,
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a loved brother and son,
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an outdoor recreation guide,
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and eventually a youth worker.
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I grew tied to the simple notion
that I wasn't a bad person.
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I didn't think I had this in my bones.
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I thought I was made up of something else.
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[In] my nurtured upbringing,
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my loving extended family and role models,
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people close to me were warm and genuine
in their [respect shown] toward women.
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It took me a long time to stare down
this dark corner of myself,
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and to ask it questions.
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TE: Nine years after the Christmas dance,
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I was 25 years old,
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and headed straight
for a nervous breakdown.
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My self-worth was buried under
a soul-crushing load of silence
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that isolated me from everyone
that I cared about,
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and I was consumed
with misplaced hatred and anger
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that I took out on myself.
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One day I stormed out of the door in tears
after a fight with a loved one,
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and I wandered into a café,
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where I asked the waitress for a pen.
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I always had a notebook with me,
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claiming that it was to jot down ideas
in moments of inspiration,
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but the truth was that I needed
to be constantly fidgeting,
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because in moments of stillness,
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I found myself counting seconds again.
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But that day I watched in wonder
as the words streamed out of my pen
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forming the most pivotal letter
I've ever written,
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addressed to Tom.
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Along with an account of the violence
that he subjected me to,
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the words, "I want to find forgiveness"
stared back at me,
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surprising nobody more than myself.
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But deep down I realized that this
was my way out of my suffering,
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because regardless of whether or not
he deserved my forgiveness,
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I deserved peace.
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My era of shame was over.
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Before sending the letter,
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I prepared myself for all kinds
of negative responses,
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or what I found likeliest --
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no response whatsoever.
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The only outcome that I didn't prepare
myself for was the one that I then got.
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A typed confession from Tom,
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full of disarming regret.
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As it turns out,
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he too had been imprisoned by silence.
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And this marked the start
of an eight-year-long correspondance
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that God knows was never easy,
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but always honest.
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I relieved myself of the burdens
that I'd wrongfully shouldered,
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and he in turn, wholeheartedly
owned up to what he'd done.
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Our written exchanges became a platform
to dissect the consequences of that night,
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and they were everything
from gut-wrenching
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to healing beyond words.
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And yet it didn't bring about
closure for me.
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Perhaps because the email format
didn't feel personal enough,
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perhaps because it's easy to be brave
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when you're hiding behind a computer
screen on the other side of the planet,
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but we'd begun a dialogue
that I felt was necessary
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to explore to it's fullest.
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So, after eight years of writing,
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and nearly 16 years after that dire night,
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I mustered the courage
to propose a wild idea ...
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that we'd meet up in person
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and face out past once and for all.
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TS: Iceland and Australia
are geographically like this.
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In the middle of the two is South Africa,
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and we decided upon the city of Cape Town,
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and there we met for one week.
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The city itself proved to be
a stunningly powerful environment
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to focus on reconciliation
and forgiveness.
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Nowhere else has healing and [reproach]
been tested like it has in South Africa.
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As a nation,
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South Africa sought to sit
within the truth of its past,
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and to listen to the details
of its history.
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Knowing this only magnified the effect
that Cape Town had on us.
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Over the course of this week,
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we literally spoke
our life stories to each other
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from start to finish.
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And this was about analyzing
our own history.
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We followed a strict
policy of being honest,
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and this also came
with a certain exposure,
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an open-chested vulnerability.
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There were gutting confessions,
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and moments where we just
absolutely couldn't fathom
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the other person's experience.
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The seismic effects of sexual violence
were spoken aloud and felt,
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face to face.
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At other times though,
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we found a soaring clarity,
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and even some totally unexpected
but liberating laughter.
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When it came down to it,
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we did out best to listen
to each other intently.
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And our individual realities were
aired with an unfilitered purity
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that couldn't do any less
than lighten the soul.
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TE: Wanting to take revenge
is a very human emotion --
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instinctual, even.
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And all I wanted to do for years
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was to hurt Tom back as deeply
as he had hurt me.
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But had I not found a way
out of the hatred and anger,
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I'm not sure I'd be standing here today.
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That isn't to say that I didn't
have my doubts along the way.
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When the plane bounced
on that landing strip in Cape Town,
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I remember thinking,
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"Why did I not just get myself
a therapist and a bottle of vodka
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like a normal person would do?"
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(Laughter)
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At times,
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our search for understanding in Cape Town
felt like an impossible quest,
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and all I wanted to do was to give up
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and go home to my
loving husband, [Veder...],
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and our son.
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But despite our difficulties,
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this journey did result
in a victorious feeling
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that light had triumphed over darkness.
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That something constructive could
be built out of the ruins.
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I read somewhere
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that you should try and be the person
that you needed when you were younger,
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and back when I was a teenager,
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I would have needed to know
that the shame wasn't mine,
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that there's hope after rape,
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that you can even find happiness,
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like I share with my husband today.
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Which is why I started writing feverishly
upon my return from Cape Town,
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resulting in a book co-authored by Tom
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that we hope can be of use
to people from both ends
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of the perpetrator-survivor scale.
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If nothing else,
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it's a story that we would've
needed to hear when we were younger.
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Given the nature of our story,
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I know the words
that inevitably accompany it.
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Victim, rapist --
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and labels are a way to organize concepts,
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but they can also be dehumanizing
in their connotations.
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Once someone's been deemed a victim,
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it's that much easier to file them away
as someone damaged --
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dishonored,
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less than.
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And likewise,
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once someone's been branded a rapist,
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it's that much easier
to call him a monster --
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inhuman.
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But how will we understand what it is
in human societies that produces violence
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if we refuse to recognize the humanity
of those who commit it?
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And how --
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(Applause)
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And how can we empower survivors
if we're making them feel less than?
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How can we discuss solutions
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to one of the biggest threats to the lives
of women and children around the world,
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if the very words we use
are part of the problem?
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TS: From what I've now learnt,
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my actions that night in 1996
were a self-centered taking.
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I felt deserving of Thordis' body.
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I've had primarily positive
social influences
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and examples of equitable
behavior around me,
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but on that occasion,
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I chose to draw upon the negative ones.
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The ones that see women
as having less intrinsic worth,
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and of men having some unspoken
and symbolic claim to their bodies.
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These influences I speak of
are external to me, though.
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And it was only me in that room
making choices,
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nobody else.
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When you own something,
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and really square up to your culpability,
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I do think a surprising thing can happen.
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It's what I call a paradox of ownership.
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I thought I'd buckle under
the weight of responsibility.
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I thought my certificate
of humanity would be burnt.
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Instead, I was offered
to really own what I did,
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and found that it didn't possess
the entirety of who I am.
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Put simply,
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something you've done doesn't have
to constitute the sum of who you are.
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The noise in my head abated.
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The indulgent self-pity
was starved of oxygen,
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and it was replaced
with the clean air of acceptance.
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An acceptance that I did hurt
this wonderful person standing next to me.
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An acceptance that I am part of a large
and shockingly everyday grouping of men
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who have been sexually violent
toward their partners.
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Don't underestimate the power of words.
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Saying to Thordis that I raped her
changed my accord with myself,
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as well as with her.
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But most importantly,
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the blame transferred from Thordis to me.
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Far too often,
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the responsibility is attributed
to female survivors of sexual violence,
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and not to the males who enact it.
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Far too often,
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the denial and running leaves all parties
at a great distance from the truth.
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There's definitely a public
conversation happening now,
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and like a lot of people,
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we're heartened
that there's less retreating
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from this difficult
but important discussion.
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I feel a real responsibility
to add our voices to it.
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TE: What we did is not a formula
that we're prescribing for others.
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Nobody has the right to tell anyone else
how to handle their deepest pain,
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or their greatest error.
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Breaking your silence is never easy,
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and depending on where
you are in the world,
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it can even be deadly
to speak out about rape.
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I realize that even the most
traumatic event of my life
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is still a testament to my privilege,
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because I can talk about it
without getting ostracized,
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or even killed.
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But with that privilege of having a voice
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comes the responsibility of using it.
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That's the least I owe
my fellow survivors who can't.
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The story we've just relayed is unique,
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and yet it is so common with sexual
violence being a global pandemic,
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but it doesn't have to be that way.
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One of the things that I found useful
on my own healing journey
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is educating myself about sexual violence.
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And as a result,
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I've been reading, writing and speaking
about this issue for over a decade now,
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going to conferences around the world.
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And in my experience,
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the attendees of such events
are almost exclusively women.
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But it's about time that we stop treating
sexual violence as a women's issue.
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(Applause)
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A majority of sexual violence
against women and men
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is perpetrated by men.
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And yet their voices are sorely
underrepresented in this discussion.
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But all of us are needed here.
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Just imagine all the suffering
we could alleviate
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if we dared to face this issue together.
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Thank you.
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(Applause)
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Courtney Martin: Thank you both
so much for your courage.
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Now, Thordis you've not only tackled
this issue personally as you mentioned,
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but politically.
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You've been researching and writing.
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For people who are in the audience
or joining us from home
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who feel deeply about
preventing sexual assault
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but also feel helpless or hopeless,
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what can they do to take action?
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TE: Well, thank you
for that excellent question.
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There's one thing all of us can do
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if we want to change a deep-seated
societal problem like this one,
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is change the way we think about it.
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And if we identify these tropes --
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these destructive narratives
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about the survivors of sexual violence
being to blame for it
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due to what they wore,
where they went, what they drank,
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what their sexual history was --
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if we encounter these narratives,
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we need to disrupt them,
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whether it's in the media,
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whether it's in conversations around us,
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or even something
that we've harbored ourselves.
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That's something all of us can do.
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We also need to stop
demonizing perpetrators,
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I believe.
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Because by doing that,
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we deny the fact that they are human,
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and that it's a human problem
that's happening in our human communities
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to people that we know --
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perpetrated by people that we know.
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So I think it's a form of escapism,
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and that's something
we can all work on changing
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within ourselves and our communities.
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(Applause)
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John Cary: And Tom,
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I want to commend you on fully
owning your hurtful actions.
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And I think,
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just as Thordis described,
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we often demonize perpetrators,
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and you're in this rare situation
of stepping forward as a perpetrator,
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and it runs the risk in some ways
of presenting you as a hero.
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And I'm interested to know,
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how has this process
of reconciliation with Thordis
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changed the way you see yourself?
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TS: I hear you, John.
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As much as I can convey,
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I just want to acknowledge
that just me being up on stage here
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would be a challenge for some
to see and to hear,
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so I thank you all for listening today.
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(Applause)
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To answer your question,
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it's quite simple.
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It's night and day.
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I buried truth for a long time.
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And it wasn't until Thordis
bravely named it with me
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that I had an opportunity
to ackowledge what I'd done.
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Then I had to learn
how to put down a big stick
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I was beating myself with.
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And it must be said that I didn't
serve time for my crime.
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After Cape Town,
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my life's been a revelation.
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I'm married to the most wonderful
and soulful woman --
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(Applause)
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I'm supported by the love
of my friends and family,
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and I feel a deep desire
to connect to this.
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I feel that there's a purpose here,
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and I think [everyone] can be aided
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by just brave and respectful
and honest dialogue.
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(Applause)
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JC: Thank you both so much
for your bravery and your courage,
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and for sharing this really
remarkable story.
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TE: The honor is ours,
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thank you.
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Thank you.
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(Applause)