For Alison.

How many times do I want to hide from Trump and his painful legacy? It's women like Alison that keep bringing me back to the fight.

Trigger warning: Contains reference to sexual abuse

She fiddled nervously with the zip of her rather oversized, softly draped handbag. Alison always brought a handbag. Always placed it across her knees. Like a comfort blanket, a protective barrier or a useful distraction. She fiddled with the zip. We could tell she was uncomfortable. Dr Dhillon and me. I had been Alison’s mental health recovery support worker for over a year, she had known her psychiatrist, Dr Dhillon for a lot longer. She trusted us but she was struggling to find the words.

‘They have offered me a settlement’ she began

‘I don’t know if I should take it. I don’t even want it; well, I do but oh it makes it feel …’

She struggled to finish the sentence. The twiddling of her handbag’s zip became more frenzied.

Alison was a victim of sexual abuse. Institutionalised abuse. She had been abused from the age of 8 to 16. The abuse had been covered up on many levels, astonishingly even by her own parents. She had bravely and tenaciously sued the institution that protected her abuser. They were ready to settle. Out of court. Speaks volumes. A rare moment of victory for Alison? It didn’t feel like that.

‘I don’t want to tell you how much they have offered,’ she continued.

Alison had told us everything about the abuse, the subsequent descent in mental illness, the self-medicating with drugs and alcohol, the abusive relationships that followed, the crappy jobs that she struggled to hold down, the unfulfilled potential, the plethora of lost dreams and opportunities. But that. The amount. That was off limits.

‘I think it kind of legitimises it and nothing can legitimise what he put me through’. she sighed.

Legitimising sexual abuse. No wonder Alison struggled with that concept.

That conversation must have been over 7 years ago now. But I have never forgotten it. Or Alison. Or the many women and men that I have met like Alison. Heroically and exhaustingly piecing together their lives, their trust, their hope, their will to live, after suffering sexual abuse. So, when I took to semi-retirement at the age of 50 and began to write, I wanted to write about women like Alison. I wanted to write for women like Alison.

And maybe the stars aligned, or the universe was trying to tell me something, but in November 2024, less than two months after I started writing, a known sexual abuser came to power. A known sexual abuser. Not for the first time. But for the second time this man took office. Fielding a constant barrage of sexual assault accusations, this man waltzed his way into the White House to take up residency again as one of the most powerful men in the world.

And I started to write about him. Sure, his economic policy is utter batshit. His ‘ICE’ Nazis are an afront to all that is American. His bromances with Putin and Netanyahu are repulsive. Obviously, his right-hand men (and women) are scrapped from the bottom of the lowest barrel. And shamefully his endowment of power and influence to unelected oligarchs is a two-finger salute to the democratic process. But the thing that keeps me writing and campaigning against him even when I feel tempted to walk away, is the suffering of women like Alison. Trump’s election and administration have legitimised sexual abuse of women. And I can’t walk away from that.

I remember that day in October 2016, when I first heard the infamous 2005 recording of Trump’s taped conversation with TV host Billy Bush. ‘Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything’ he laughed, as they ogled unwitting women. I raged inside. A mother to two young daughters. They deserve better than this. We all deserve better than this. But then I smiled to myself. This must be the end of him, I thought. F*cking Lazarus could not come back from the dead after that.

But he did. And he kept dodging the bullets of righteous condemnation and outrage. And with every alleged (and proven) accusation of sexual assault, he began to systematically yet stealthily legitimise the assault of women. The gate that women (and good men) had fought to keep shut since the beginning of time, the gate that says women’s bodies belong to themselves and no man has an automatic right to them, that gate began to be prized open. And it became a flood gate. Manned by the like of Matt Gaetz, Pete Hegseth and RFK junior. God save us.

And now, more allegations (how long will we have to call them that?) that Trump was part of the Epstein cabal. The dead sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. Even if the Epstein allegations are true, even if Trump is dethroned, put out to (golf) pastures, or left to survive on a diet of McDonalds, medications and IV infusions, I fear this is not the end. The flood gates have been opened. Trump has legitimised sexual assault. It will take more than his departure to turn the tide of male hatred and entitlement of women’s bodies that he has so openly endorsed.

But there are enough of us to fight back. That gate was never strong enough anyway. Time for a whole new barricade. Time for women worldwide to unite, to use our resilience, ingenuity, our strength, our sistership, our collective power, our maternal love and our sheer damn bloody mindedness to create the kind of protective resistance that no predatory man will ever be able to challenge again.

Trump may come; he may go. I am frankly passed letting that man live rent free in my head. His legacy will outlast his bloated, decrepit, shuffling corpse. His legacy is what we are fighting against now and for Alison and the sake of women everywhere, I am happy to come out of retirement to put an end to it. Once and for all.

Please like, comment or restack this post to reach more readers. I am now working fulltime as a writer. Your support is much needed and appreciated. Rebecca X