Trigger warning: contains content discussing sexual assault.

Kat Thomas (AKA Tessa) is a theatre director, writer and creative living in Tāmaki Makaurau. She is currently finishing her PhD in arts as a tool for social change at Waipapa Taumata Tau, and was part of Toipoto in 2022.

Kat approached The Big Idea to share her experiences to shine a light on an important issue for the creative community to consider.

I am a victim of sexual assaults. 

It was only one assault where I had enough courage to press charges in 2019. This happened over the course of a few days after said assault. 

After I sobered up, after I had pissed away the evidence of unwanted drugs in my system, after I had a friend respectfully inform me what had happened to me was rape and there was a process to follow. So, I turned up at the Pōhutukawa Clinic, Greenlane Hospital and experienced my first-ever forensic examination. 

I left with pubic hair missing, a short, hidden spike of hair on my scalp, and parts of my body photographed in ways that had never gone anywhere near a selfie stick. I also left with a new pair of oversized knickers because they took mine as evidence. Those knickers felt safe for many months after.

The female staff at Pōhutukawa made me feel secure and respected. They ensured that my body was covered, except for each small part they needed to examine. My body was a jigsaw puzzle, respected for the assault it had received but examined to find evidence that would hold up in court.

I am still putting myself back together. 

Feeling seen

Years later I found myself on a bucket-list experience in New York City, Times Square. Suzie Miller, lawyer-turned-playwright, had her show Prima Facie on Broadway starring Tony award winner Jodie Comer as Tessa. 

I bought my ticket. 

Comer performs the story of Tessa - a brilliant lawyer who is forced to confront the patriarchal power of the law after she experiences her own sexual assault. 

I wept in the auditorium. The lights came up and I realised I was not weeping alone. I somehow could tell through the tears of those around me, I was not the only victim. 

Why change matters

Sexual assault is not assigned to human bodies who are born with female organs. Sexual assault does not assign themselves to gender, to skin colour, to age, to class, to monogamy. Sexual assault happens more often than we like to admit. 

In 2022 I celebrated quietly the ‘yes means yes’ law, being brought into Spain. This new legislation meant that any non-consensual sex would be qualified as rape in the justice system.  I wondered how long it would take to reach the shores of Aōtearoa. My feeling of victory grew for the 18-year old woman at the centre of the ‘Wolf-Pack’ case in Spain, whose gang rape had initially resulted in a lesser sentence for the five men because the video footage collected did not show her saying “No”. 

After this legislation was passed, Spain’s supreme court overturned the original, lesser charge, raising the sentences from nine to fifteen years each. Simultaneously a sick feeling entered my body as I realised that this level of consent meant that I had been raped many times before. 

There are many activists who argue dress codes are not the decisive factor in ascertaining who would be more likely to be raped. I am a big fan of Lainey Molnar’s illustrations on women’s empowerment, and her artwork looks at what consent means today. 

More people are recognising consent is not just someone saying no. 

I admit that I avoid revealing clothing because of the unwanted attention I receive. It is not just clothing though, I am learning my journey into sobriety is equally grounded in my vast experiences of non-consensual sex. Yeah, you heard it. I am a white, CIS, female, and I am at risk of rape when I am drunk. If you think this is a hard pill to swallow, you needed to have gone to see Prima Facie.

The system is broken

The result of my sexual assault was thwarted by the pandemic. Courtrooms closed and hearings delayed. My stress grew. I regularly listened to Tom Petty’s I won’t back down for close to 18 months.

The day before my court appearance my lawyer called me. We had not spoken for some time, but I was assured the case was in good hands. I received legal aid with the support of Shine and the New Zealand Police sexual assault unit. 

After a few minutes of discussion with my lawyer my heart sank. There was no solid case. There was no evidence. It was my word against his. 

And further, the key elements of my story that I needed to be heard had been forgotten by my lawyer – they were teeny tiny facts that I could see prove my assault was premeditated. The case was not in good hands. As I was under the influence of alcohol and there was no proof I had been drugged, I was going to look like a harlot in the courtroom. I signed an undertaking and Tom Petty was removed from my playlist. I didn’t go to court.

Determined to be heard

Returning to my Prima Facie experience, I left the Golden Theatre in NYC and found myself in the Broadway gift store. I purchased two copies of the script, a tote bag and a badge. In that moment I decided I was going to visit my lawyer and gift their office a copy of this play. I came home and found the play was about to be presented in Tāmaki Makaurau. So, to accompany the book, I purchased 6 tickets to gift the law firm. I genuinely thought this was an important and respectful offer. 

A week before Prima Facie opened in Tāmaki, I was refused entry at the law firm. I was not allowed to leave the gift.

I was given a business card and instructions to call the number on it to ask permission if I could come in to talk to them for a few minutes, and for them to decide if the gift was appropriate. I left holding back tears. 

As I drove away I saw another law firm under a woman’s name. There was a free carpark outside – was this a moment of serendipity? 

The receptionist was welcoming and understood my unusual request. I waited patiently and a female lawyer came out. I felt safe, temporarily. I shook her hand and began to explain who I was, that I was not a client at her firm, but a victim of sexual assault. I offered the gift. 

Barely making eye contact with me, she suggested I go to Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB) because her legal team don’t usually go out together, nor do they legally deal with "this sort of thing”. She waved her arms in the air while she said those words to me. I remember saying, “Well this isn’t quite the point I was…”

She promptly interrupted me saying again CAB, the courthouse or other local services would be more appropriate for me to go. I could barely see myself to the door – the door that was locked and I needed her permission and pin number so I could leave their offices with some sort of self-respect. 

I had two copies of this play and six tickets to give away. I took wonderful friends and their teenage daughters. I felt nervous about their responses. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as Acushala-Tara Kupe’s performance as Tessa resonated with me again. 

Art's crucial role

Art is powerful. Storytelling is such an important part of our identity, to understand ourselves and others, to make changes to the way we treat one another. 

The people who really needed to hear this story are not listening though. 

There is an ongoing ache in my heart at the crises of arts in Aōtearoa. My professional work background is in the theatre, and I see colleagues struggling financially, finding ways to supplement their incomes to create work for free, as well as missing out on funding for projects they have spent years on. 

And in academia, many facing redundancy as the universities are on the brink of making cuts in the humanities. This is despite decades of hard work developing strong arts education programs for students who graduate and go on to make a difference in the world. 

Tessa tells us in Prima Facie that my story is one in three. If that is not heart-breaking enough, Aōtearoa is so far behind the changes that need to happen in our justice system I fear for my children’s children.

Our arts community have the skills, the passion, and the experience to make change in this world, and I truly believe the theatre and the arts have an important role to play here. 

Not only can we create spaces for the marginalized to have a voice, but we can imagine news ways of being. But what does this mean if those at the coal face don’t show up? 

At the end of it all, their absence didn’t matter. Prima Facie generated conversations about consent with the people who meant a lot to me that came along that night. 

Yeah, I sure do feel heart-broken that you can’t even give away world-class theatre. But I know for sure, our arts community are loud, proud and I am hopeful for our future. 

There are far too many Tessa’s in this world, but maybe it is time to put Mr Petty back on my playlist.

Where to get help:

• Rape Crisis 0800 88 33 00, click link for local helplines.
• Victim Support 0800 842 846.
• Safetalk text 4334, phone 0800 044 334 webchat safetotalk.nz or email support@safetotalk.nz.
• The Harbour Online support and information for people affected by sexual abuse.
• Women’s Refuge 0800 733 843
• Male Survivors Aotearoa Helplines across NZ, click to find out more (males only).
• If you or someone else is in immediate danger, call 111.