I’m from a printing family so I can’t pick up a flyer or a book without inspecting it, noting the stock used, paper weight or finishing techniques.
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I was an A-grade English student, have been a writer all my life and worked for years as a sub-editor, so I can’t read a simple text message without automatically proofing its punctuation and grammar.
I’m a graphic designer so I constantly study logos and appreciate them for more than just the eye-catching motif they are, but consider the process of how all the elements came cleverly together to symbolise a brand.
I am also someone who has brushed with domestic and family violence more than once in my life.
Therefore, it’s hard to tell if that’s why I’m so invested in the topic.
Given I don’t usually see friends or family or anyone I know at the rallies against gender-based violence I go to, I would guess my personal experience plays a big part in driving me to them.
It makes sense. So often people turn their trauma into fuel to make change, spreading awareness so others won’t have to suffer the way they do, and campaigning for change.
People start charities and not-for-profits after losing loved ones to accidents or disease or crime.
It’s how many get through in the wake of tragedies that change the trajectory of their own lives.
Earlier this month, I attended one of the No More national rallies against gender-based violence, in Yarrawonga.
The town has recently been rocked by the death of one of its own, Kylie Sanders, who was allegedly run over by a vehicle driven by a man.
The rally was peaceful, yet highly emotional, as several victim survivors told their harrowing personal stories of all forms of family, domestic and sexual violence against them throughout various stages of their lives.
A brave 10-year-old boy stood before the crowd of more than 100, recalling the chaos of the time in his life he and his mother lived with his mother’s violent abuser, who ended up (briefly) in jail for his crimes.
A speaker led the crowd in a cathartic chant.
“No more silence: End the violence.”
“Say it loud, say it clear: Everyone deserves to live without fear.”
“Say it once, say it again: Gender-based violence must end.”
Individual flowers were laid as the names of all the women killed by acts of gender-based violence this year were read out.
Then, a minute’s silence to remember them.
I cried from the beginning to the end.
There’s no doubt they’re triggering events. But I feel had nothing been directly relatable, something indirectly would have regardless of my history.
You will not meet a woman who has never felt unsafe in the presence of a man at some point in their lives.
Even walking from my car park to the rally I came across some men drinking beer and sniggering as people (men, women and children) converged on the rally meeting point.
They were commenting loudly and negatively about the event, and I can’t help but wonder if they had intentionally planned to be there at that time and place in an attempt to intimidate participants.
If that were the case, it would have made them a direct example of why awareness is so vital.
A previous rally I attended saw a known sex-offender forcefully removed from the crowd by police as he mocked proceedings, moving through the crowd to seemingly antagonise as many of its members as possible.
The brazenness of him showing up to an event of that nature with his recognisable face directly linking him to the crimes he was convicted of was mind-blowing.
And again, it shows why rallying for change is important.
It was hopeful to see a bigger turnout at this rally than others I’ve attended.
The thing is, often people don’t care about something unless they’re directly affected or are close to someone who has been.
There are no positives in another woman’s life being unnecessarily cut short.
None.
But if I had to search for a silver lining, the only glimmer I can draw from these tragedies is that they might lead to change because more families, friends and communities have been affected and will now take notice of what’s happening.
More people are driven to stand up and shout about it.
I had to turn this over in my head several times to twist it this way and it still sits incredibly uncomfortably.
But without using what can’t be changed — these women’s violent and untimely deaths — as a catalyst for change, they truly would have died in vain.
The rallies call for primary prevention programs, the National Housing and Homelessness strategy to be seen through, trauma-informed training for first responders, bail reforms prioritising victim-survivor safety, nationally consistent and holistic consent laws across Australia, and frontline funding.
How many more women have to die before the people with the power use it for good?
As a tribute sign that was laid before Kylie’s memorial picture and candle at the rally said, ‘It could have been me and it could have been you.’
While that’s true, what’s also true is that it shouldn’t have been any of us.
Senior journalist