The girl who held my hand...

Yesterday was an emotional day. I have met many people from my train, and it has been wonderful to hear so many stories of bravery and friendship. To see passengers find each other again who stood next to each other in the dark, greet each other again as old friends is truly moving.

But I had never found anyone who stood right next to me, until yesterday, when I finally hugged the girl who travelled next to me, who walked behind me to Russell Square, who I talked to in the terrible darkness and whose hand I held. I wrote about her in the Sunday Times piece, and she had read my diary on the BBC and then tracked me down to urban 75 where I first wrote about what happened to me on July 7th, and found so much support and kindness from strangers. Telling my story on the u75 messageboard late at night on July 7th was the start of my making sense of the day, then the BBC picked it up and asked me to write my survivor diary for them, and that became the fortunate catalyst for so many survivors finding each other.

The girl whose hand I held and I spent yesterday afternoon in a pub talking and my story is her story, her story is my story. My story is not only personal to me but common to many people from the train, and that is why I wrote it anonymously. It was wonderful for me to finally find someone who was right there with me, it has helped a lot. She said: what you wrote is absolutely true, it is what happened to me. And seeing her bravery, her strength, her hopefulness and her sweetness and grace is fantastic. She is only 21 years old. She is coping magnificently.

On the Sunday Times piece yesterday coming out and now everyone knowing my past: previous media activity was agreed by the group and done with one objective - to let fellow passengers know about Kings Cross United. Media was done by various group members, (with me taking a 'fronting' role as my day job as a media director gave me some understanding of what to expect and how to handle it. And I wrote stuff, because most people said they wanted to be interviewed by someone who was on the train with them, not a reporter). But behind the scenes, other Kings Cross United survivors did lots of other stuff, including managing email enquiries ( many from the media, most of which we turned down, unless we thought they had a chance of reaching people from our train. Thus we said yes to BBC Hertfordshire and North London local radio, but no to international television. There was a careful strategy behind what we did.)

But yesterday, in the paper, I spoke with my own voice, not on behalf of all victims. I cannot possibly speak for all victims, as I have said on this blog again and again. But I was able to tell my personal story in my own words, why I am here, writing this diary, why I set up Kings Cross United with other survivors, for other survivors, why I wanted to speak out. I do not want to be a 'celebrity victim'. I cannot think of anything more stupid than being a celebrity, and I am not a victim.

Trauma is too hard a thing to carry alone, though, however strong you are. Other voices in the dark can help you carry on, at the time and on your journey after, like Ally at 'ducking for apples' blog in her moving post 'Droit de Seigneur'.

And the results of the Amnesty International survey on the attitudes of many towards rape are so dreadful, the recent court case about the girl who was drunk and could not recall giving consent to the sober man who walked her home because she was ill and staggering and then took her in the hallway, and then left her there. There is still much to say and to protest about, even in 2005.

So this is why I speak out, to encourage other people who have been raped or hurt to come forward, and to tell other people a little of what it is like, so that they can understand. Because I believe, passionately, that we need to talk to each other more, that we should speak out and listen more, rather than hate or hurt or hide away. And every voice that speaks out helps.

Here is a voice that many should read.

The story of Sophie, who was one of Garri Holness' and his gang victims of the multiple rape, twenty years ago.

There can be hope, there can be healing, there is life after the most terrible trauma and tragedy. As long as you are alive, there is always still hope. Sophie says:

I'm no longer a rape victim because I worked through a very painful
issue and came out the other side. Other rape victims need to know that you
should and can move on. Shoving painful stuff in a box doesn't work

She has nothing to say to Garri, and reading her interview, there are similarities with how I feel about my rapist - I have moved away from him, I am free of him, he is not my damn problem any more. Having said that, I think if I saw my rapist with a sign round his neck saying 'What About The Victims?' I would have the angry reaction Sophie had: some things are just too much to take.

I have said that if I met him, I would treat Garri as any other passenger on my train and talk to him about what happened to us both on carriage one if he wanted to, but his past is not mine to forgive, I can only talk to him in our shared present as people who took the same train.

Sophie's story is a story of hope, and dignity, and her 'brilliant' life now is a testament to her spirit and courage. I raise a glass to her tonight, and to all victims of violence. Never be ashamed.