I am absorbed immediately and completely; I am no longer listening to the news with half-hearted detachment. “Father’s child porn ring smashed,” reports the newsreader as I drove towards my home at lunch-time on Friday. I feel a dull, familiar sadness and perhaps, shockingly, I am not shocked. I notice stirrings of relief. I am relieved that on hearing this news I am not holding back the taste of vomit, and that I am not stopped in my car heaving uncontrollably – I am relieved I no longer feel a personal assault whenever I hear the words ‘child pornography.’ I am grateful that on hearing of Australian men who have had their abusive exploits uncovered, that I no longer feel tainted and part of this story.

I still feel an instant connection to the breaking news. Immediately I think of my ex-husband and my investigations into his online exploits that ended in our divorce. Protected by the distance of time, I recall how I used to feel whenever I heard about child pornography and the men who perpetrate this underground exploitation. In the past, similar news reports would immobilise me; I would feel trapped, crushed, and sometimes unable to breathe under a metaphorical boulder of grief and shame. I try to push them away but photos I have recently seen, online, of my ex-husband holding his own young children float through my mind as I listen to the news. I do not re-play my own memories for long. Ten years on my own, pain has diminished. The raw grief of the realisation that the man I married and loved demanded the molestation of children by seeking out and accessing exploitative and abusive images has slowly healed itself.

Thoughts move quickly and, unlike spoken words, can be left unfinished and multiple thoughts occupy my mind at once. My thoughts flick between images of my ex-husband, hover on memories of the pain that used to be so consuming and then my thoughts settle with the families of these men. I hope that the children of the men arrested as a result of ‘Operation Belfort’ are not aware of what has been happening and that the support and welfare mentioned will be followed through in a meaningful way.

The mothers of these children, wives and partners of the men arrested, are not protected by the same ignorance as their children. Police report that the men arrested in their family homes have acquiesced readily and asked police to speak with them discreetly away from their families. We do not know if the appearance of police in their home, for the partners of these men, was their first awareness of their husbands’ behaviour or perhaps a final confirmation of an enduring, uneasy suspicion.

There are few universal values agreed on in our society. In almost perfect unison we are repulsed by, and reject any association with, child pornography. Amongst the blurring lines of morality we hold the innocence of children as sacred. The investigators of ‘Operation Belfort’ are pushing away affiliation with these atrocities and the commander has ensured his personal disgust is noted on public record. Law enforcers, whose duty it is to investigate this network, which trades in the exploitation of children, are fearful of being associated with the abhorrent nature of child pornography.

As police untangle a network of images, peers and perpetrators, partners of these men will find themselves trapped in their own web of stigma and association. They will battle their own judgements, “What does this say about me?” and often, “How did I not realise?”

Rapidly followed by the barrage from others. Assumptions will be made that she must have known, been complicit or that she is in denial. She will be blamed, judged, stigmatised and avoided. Unlike women who discover that her partner is cheating on her, partners of these men cannot seek out support, or solidarity, from others. So fearful are we of being associated with such atrocities we believe our only option is to ostracise these women quarantining them from corrupting us through our potential empathy.

The men, who are arrested, when child porn rings are uncovered are rarely the deviants we comfort ourselves by imagining. These men are teachers, doctors, vicars, fathers and neighbours; they are people we know. Partners of these men are mostly innocent women recoiling in repulsion when we become aware of our partners’ activities. As partners, we are overwhelmed by what this means. I blamed myself for things that were never my fault. I thought that I could have tried harder, helped more and, then, maybe he would not have done this. I felt immense shame when I saw the embarrassment in people’s faces and they didn’t know what to say.

I just wanted to die.

Natalie Walker is an advocate for women affected by their partner’s involvement or interest in child pornography. Natalie has extensive experience in working with individuals and the community; she is director of People Platform, a Melbourne based consultancy which provides services aimed at transforming the communication of individuals, partners, groups and organisations with particular expertise in facilitating difficult conversations. Natalie has founded PartnerSPEAK (stopping pornographic exploitation against kids) to provide a forum for women who learn that their partner is accessing child pornography to share their experiences and provide support to one another. To access the PartnerSPEAK forum please go to peopleplatform.org/partnerspeak .

Anyone in crisis and needing counselling should call Lifeline (24 hours) on 13 11 14.

Main image credit: Kathryn Sprigg

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