If I were a rapper I’d do a bit about how beautiful I find the law. “Innocent till proven guilty,” I’d start confidently, before panicking about the rhyme – duvets are quilty? The Scottish are kilt-y? “Freedom tastes as good as fruit tea.” Saved it. “UK law is built on sanest reason.” I’m doing some great arm movements now – “better guilty freed than innocent in prison”. Uh oh, the crowd is booing. I don’t think the world is ready for my non-scanning, fruit-tea complimenting freestyle about justice. And I hadn’t got to the important part, the bit about how the law is failing victims of sexual assault.

#FreeKesha but don't forget the other women silenced by fear Read more

Yeah, sorry if you thought this was all going to be about rapping because it’s not.

It’s horribly easy to empathise with a woman who is financially trapped with her abuser. You might imagine a trafficked woman and her pimp, a sweatshop slave and cruel boss, a rape survivor and David Cameron, and – if the allegations are true – Kesha and Dr Luke. The latter examples initially seem to have little in common: Kesha’s attempt to leave a recording contract was ruled against by a judge citing the $60m invested in her career, while women wanting to claim tax credits for a third child next year will be fighting for just a few pounds. But despite being at opposite ends of the economic spectrum, they both demonstrate that mistreatment of a rape victim may not end with the assault.

If you missed this last week, Kesha is a singer who lost part of a civil case in the US to escape a contract with the manager, Luke Gottwald, who she claims drugged and raped her. She has not brought criminal charges against said manager, and was not seeking to send him to prison, merely to free herself from his ownership. Obviously, we do not yet know the truth behind her accusations, Gottwald denies them and the case is yet to be decided; for the time being, owned she shall remain. Meanwhile, in the UK, Cameron’s fun new tax credit restrictions (financial assistance for up to two children only – clamp down on those bastards trying to work full time for less than the minimum wage to support large families) have a nifty loophole for third children who are the consequence of rape. All a struggling mother, reliant on tax credits, needs to do is pop down the town hall, or HMRC, or wherever, then sit down and tell a bureaucratic stranger about the most traumatic experience of her life. Prove it resulted in a kid? Bingo, now you can afford to get the bus home – go on, treat yourself.

The ruling against Kesha: yet again, a woman was told her body isn't her own | Jennifer Gerson Uffalussy Read more

In both situations, women suffer the burden of “proving” they were raped. I’m sure you are already familiar with the miserable statistics on rape reporting and prosecution. “We are, Sara, please don’t bore us by repeating them!” Too late, guys, the beat has been dropped, my rhyming lips can’t stop: “Just 15% of sexual assault victims report the crime to police, and only 5.7% end in convictions, no other crime’s as low as this.” Drops mic, music cuts. Embarrassment on all our faces.

Some argue that these low conviction rates are the reason that many don’t wish to take their attackers to court – many victims are demoralised by the difficulty of “their word against his” (or hers) and don’t wish to try and fail. But another explanation is found in victim behaviour. There are certain common reactions to the distress of sexual assault: wanting to wash immediately and repeatedly, secrecy about what has happened, feelings of intense shame. Physiological inevitabilities that destroy evidence and make a criminal case against a rapist much more difficult. As time passes and a body heals, victims can be unwilling to relive their ordeal for PCs and lawyers and choose to try to rebuild their lives privately. So far, so understandable.

Lena Dunham on Kesha ruling: 'When I saw the outcome I felt sick' Read more

Being disbelieved is part of any rape victim’s experience. While sexual assault is no more likely to be falsely claimed than any other crime, people are far more likely to be accused of lying over rape charges than wallet theft or insurance fraud. But unfortunately, false rape allegations get a disproportionate amount of press and media attention. People are happier discussing a vindictive woman who was making it up over a desperate woman telling the truth. That makes sense: it would be a nicer world if all the awful things you heard about were fiction; if one in five women didn’t experience sexual violence in their lifetime, but instead enjoyed a fun day down the police station playing a prank on an enemy.

I can understand the scepticism of those whose lives have not been affected by rape. They retain their physical autonomy, cannot imagine being overpowered. Can’t conceive of wanting to die rather than report. Find it difficult to believe that in an establishment as visible as the music industry women are as vulnerable as they are at your average house party. Cannot see that a tax-credit allowance for a third child that relies on proof of rape is, for 99% of victims, no allowance at all. In an optimistic frame of mind I have to hope that isn’t exactly what Cameron intended.

Last week, there were hashtags for Kesha, an outpouring of anger and support. “Trial by Twitter,” her manager complained, forgetting the trial by trial he had just exited. Our collective dissatisfaction with how legal systems deal with rape cases must coalesce now. We deserve courts that specialise in sex crimes. We deserve state-funded victim support. And to all the dissenters who want a woman to prove she was raped, the burden of proof should be with you to prove she wasn’t.