The Vanishing Triangle

by Claire McGowan

But I was never told their names. I don’t remember advice to be careful, or not any more than the usual warnings that girls are given as soon as they can walk. Don’t take a lift. Don’t trust strangers. Don’t wear that. Like it’s your own responsibility.

I wanted to find out why men who hurt women are so often protected and shielded by institutions.

it really struck me while watching it how a female crime expert casually remarks that ‘of course’ Annie shouldn’t have gone walking alone in the countryside. Watching in 2019, I bridled: why shouldn’t she have?

This throwaway comment made me think about how we judge women, how we are blamed for our own rapes and murders.

Even if transport doesn’t exist, or costs too much to use, it’s still our responsibility somehow not to get attacked.

Is there no onus on these men, you know, not to do it?

we should be shocked by how this keeps happening, older and powerful men being listened to and the girls and women they hurt not being believed.

Why shouldn’t women be allowed to walk anywhere, talk to anyone? Why should this mean they get murdered?

This led to the country having some of the most restrictive abortion laws in the world; even though there was some leeway for doctors to perform one if a woman’s life was in danger, they often would not do so, afraid of prosecution.

Contraceptives were banned, though wealthier people were often able to get them from friends overseas or lenient doctors.

was shocked to find a newspaper headline from the time of her killer’s trial, which read ‘Life for Hooker Layla’s Killer’. Why call her that? Why even mention that she did sex work – does it make any difference to the fact she was killed? Why do we judge the women who end up dead as if it’s their own fault?

They were hiding in plain sight, except that when you scratch the surface, there’s always a woman with a story to tell. A clumsy lunge in a car from a man she trusted, and she buried the shock, not wanting to upset people, perhaps blaming herself to some extent. It’s what women are taught to do by the multiple rape trials that bring as evidence the way we acted that night, the underwear we wore.

So what are we supposed to do to keep ourselves safe? Not leave the house in daylight? Not get a lift, in a country with scarce public transport? Not stay at home? Not love a man?

So many are run by young women, in a jokey-screamy style, and often themed around drinking. Why is this? Is it to try to gain some measure of control over our fears of what might happen to us – being snatched off the street, or from our own front door? Killed by a man we know, and care for? I wonder sometimes if the joking is distracting from the pain.