Women’s Safety on the Stage. Silence When I Asked to Be Heard - December 2022

“Empathy is the most important instrument in the leader’s toolbox.” Simon Sinek

After my brief encounter with Superintendent Rohan Cramsie, then Commander of the St George Police Area Command, I waited for him to contact me. He did’t get back to me.

I had approached him at a local community event against domestic violence. I was already struggling, already without the support I needed, and trying to reach someone in leadership who would give me time to explain what had been happening and to stop further harmful action. 

See:

When Even Home Wasn’t Safe - June 2022

Part One: They Walked Against Gender Violence. I Was There Begging to Be Kept Safe - November 2022

But how do you reach someone who is visible at a community event and then inaccessible when you need a proper conversation?

In my case, I paid for a LinkedIn subscription so I could send him a direct message.

I paid to pursue a conversation about my safety.

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14 December 2022: a reminder that I still needed to be heard

On 14 December 2022, I sent a message headed:

“Kind reminder that I must have a meeting with you”

I reminded him of our encounter:

“If you recall I briefly spoke with you at the local event against domestic violence a few weeks ago.”

This was a follow-up. I was still asking for the opportunity to explain circumstances that his officers had never given me adequate time to describe.

My message raised the harassment and intimidation I had reported in connection with my workplace, WHS and workers’ compensation circumstances. I told him that the Fair Work Ombudsman had advised me to go to police. I described my experience of seeking help from St George Police as having compounded my trauma and humiliation.

These were serious concerns I wanted him to hear and examine.

 

Extract from my LinkedIn message to Superintendent Rohan Cramsie, then Commander of St George Police Area Command, 14 December 2022, following our brief conversation at a community event against domestic violence.

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What happened to the promise of listening?

In my message, I brought him back to what I had heard at the event:

“You talk about listening to domestic violence victims in your speech that day.”

Then I wrote:

“The biggest indignity to the human person is when no one is listening.”

That was the gulf I was trying to explain: the distance between speaking publicly about listening to women and making time to listen to a woman asking for help.

I needed to explain the background, the sequence of events, the people involved and the harm already done. Without that opportunity, how could anyone properly understand my circumstances?

A brief exchange at a community event could never substitute for that conversation.

——

I had experienced the difference when officers actually listened

My message also acknowledged officers at Wollongong who, in my experience, had treated me with humanity and taken the time to understand.

I thanked them for:

“being human beings first and actually listening and understanding.”

I knew what a respectful response felt like. That made the experience at St George harder to bear.

I explained that friends and neighbours had witnessed what I was going through, yet I felt their knowledge hadn’t been sought or heard.

These were matters I was asking the commander to examine. They needed a proper hearing.

——

A broken door, and no follow-up

The message described another consequence: returning home to find my door broken.

I wrote:

“There was no follow up to find out if I’m ok.”

And then:

“I’m still not ok because I need someone from St. George Police to respectfully listen”

I lived alone. The condition of my door was a practical safety concern, alongside the distress I was already carrying.

Women’s safety has to extend beyond the event at which leaders speak about it. It has to include what happens when a woman returns home, what she reports, and whether anyone follows through.

——

I asked for a meeting in January

With Christmas approaching, I proposed a meeting the following month:

“Given it’s Christmas, we can organise a meeting in January. But it’s a must.”

I also made clear how exhausting repeated pursuit had become:

“Do not make me have to follow up with you a thousand times to do this. Otherwise I have to do what I did with SIRA.”

By that, I meant calling the failures out publicly. I wanted a response and a meaningful opportunity to be heard, rather than having to keep chasing people whose leadership roles should make them accountable.

I had already approached him in person. Now I had paid for another means of reaching him and put my request in writing.

The burden was still on me.

——

I had already told him what I needed

My request was clear. In my LinkedIn message of 14 December 2022, I wrote:

“I’m still not ok because I need someone from St. George Police to respectfully listen so we can fairly resolve the carnage left behind…”

I reminded him:

“You’re the leader and it’s under your area of command that this all happened.”

And I explicitly said:

“I need to tell you what your staff did to me…”

I was asking him to give me the time and attention his officers had failed to give me. I needed to explain what had happened, the circumstances they had failed to understand, and the harm their responses had caused.

That’s what makes what followed so appalling. I had explained beforehand that I needed to be heard. Superintendent Cramsie didn’t meet with me himself. He arranged for his Crimes Manager, Robert Allison, to meet with me. What happened at that meeting—and whether I was given a meaningful opportunity to explain—belongs in the next part of this account.

——

Why it felt like tokenism

To me, this felt like tokenism: public visibility and speaking at a community event about women’s safety and listening to victims, followed by silence when I sought the time and attention needed to explain my own circumstances.

I was asking him to put those words into practice.

I cannot know what someone privately cares about. I can describe the response I experienced, and the gap between the words I heard and the follow-through I needed.

What does a commitment to listening mean if a woman has to pay for a professional networking subscription just to remind a police commander that she’s still waiting?

My safety concerns didn’t end when the community event ended. Neither should the willingness to listen.

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Document 581.