Introduction

The ability and/or choice to disclose childhood sexual abuse is often determined by a range of internal and external factors (Paine and Hansen, 2002). While it may be intuitive to think that, to prevent further sexual crimes, child victims should disclose or report abuse as soon as possible, such expectations are perhaps unreasonable (Lemaigre et al, 2017). Indeed, reports tell us that because children are often abused by a person they know and trust, usually a close family member following a process of sophisticated and long-term grooming, they are often extremely confused and frightened (Hershkowitz et al, 2007). It is perhaps unsurprising, therefore, that for many victims of childhood abuse, disclosure may never be an option. For some, however, disclosure does come, even if it occurs decades after the crime was committed (Easton et al, 2014). How agencies, communities, and families respond to disclosures of allegations of historical child sexual abuse has been subject to much media, political, and academic attention in recent years. Of little attention, however, are the experiences of those disclosing historic incidents of child sexual abuse (Sivagurunathan et al, 2019).

This chapter aims to provide one such unique insight, in that it includes the lived experience of a victim of child sexual abuse; now a serving police detective sergeant. This chapter is in the main a reflective piece, in that it aims to provide insights from the author. It does, however, chime closely with Walklate and McCulloch's chapter and commentary regarding their call to recognise the ‘ordinariness’ of violence. This account will provide reflection of the stigma associated with abuse, the fear of disclosure, and the impact of relationships post-disclosure. All of which, it is argued, supports Walklate and McCulloch's notion that abuse and violence is wrongly perceived as extraordinary. The chapter closes with some recommendations.

Responses to disclosures of sexual violence

Disclosing to someone that you have been the victim of a sexual offence is often informed by uncertainty and fear. This is especially true of historic sexual offences; where the victim has lived with, and perhaps normalised, their experiences for decades (Lanthier et al, 2018).