Spiking: A Missing Part of The Narrative
TW: Assault, spiking
Unless you live in some kind of cave far removed from society, you’ve probably heard about the influx of spiking cases sweeping the UK. There are so many areas of this that need to be discussed: the HIV hysteria, power dynamics, false information and victim blaming to name a few. However, one part that seems to me to be distinctly missing is long term support and genuine acknowledgement of the effect this can have on the victims: past and present.
Spiking is not a new occurrence. Currently, it seems to be everywhere, painted as some phenomena of the post-covid clubbing experience. I’ve clicked through infographics, read articles, took part in boycotts, found it permeating almost every conversation with acquaintances in the street. The general consensus seems to be that it is a power thing – people are being loaded with a range of substances then left in a terrifying state, but left all the same. There are cases where spiking results in assault or rape, but generally conversation seems to surround the fear of these things, not how to help the people it’s happened to already. Maybe a token helpline number is thrown in at the end, but overall, the only help of substance is ‘report it to the police’.
If there is one thing for you to take from my writing it’s this: lose the idea of the perfect victim. And remember that they’re actual people, the experience isn’t isolated to the incident itself. Sounds simple right? Think you’ve been spiked, go to the police! You were assaulted, ah I’m so sorry to hear, report it! The reality is, some people can do this, some people can’t. Brains are funny things, and coping mechanisms are impossible to predict. When I was assaulted it took me weeks to go to the police. My brain went into complete shutdown. This is not unusual. When I was diagnosed with PTSD a well-intended friend said, ‘You don’t act like you have PTSD’. At first, I did my fare share of crying, flashbacks in rooms full of people, disassociating at random moments and not knowing when my brain was planning on clocking back in. People don’t tend to understand, but they find that easier to make sense of. But it quickly became a lot more covert and as time passed people seemed to move on, even though I was stuck. I got good at hiding my dodgy coping mechanisms: playing off my skittishness or wild abandon on nights out as funny, buying alcohol in secret so I could black-out at 8pm whilst my housemates thought I was tucked up in bed, ghosting anyone who wasn’t physically present in my life. A lot of the time, having PTSD resulted in me being a horrible person to be around. Trying to protect the people I loved from my problems didn’t really help at all: I did things far from ‘right’. I think everybody with PTSD would probably have a similar story to tell. People forget the ongoing effects that traumatic situations can carry. Not everybody who is spiked or assaulted is going to end up with PTSD but being mindful that the content we share may be viewed by someone who does (even if we’re not aware) is surely the bare minimum.
For me at least, the constant conversation surrounding assault culture and spiking has been detrimental. I’ve found symptoms that I thought I’d well and truly worked past resurging: nightmares reoccurring, slipping into old bad habits and thought patterns, and having a worse memory than a goldfish. Again, I am not particularly unusual. Many people with similar experiences are feeling the exact same. The conversations occurring now are integral, and by no means am I suggesting that they should be silenced. However, be mindful of what you’re saying, be careful not to victim blame. People right now are scared, and rightly so, but this is not a new thing.
The recent rise in spiking shines a light on so many aspects of society, and navigating the world as it stands right now, that needed illuminating with such ferocity. Don’t stop talking about it. But make sure the content you share is verifiable or fact-checked and contains proper victim support. Even better, campaign for better resources to be made available to the public, and for more police training on effectively managing these incidents with respect and courtesy. This may be a collective experience, but it is built upon the trauma of thousands of individuals. Get angry, fight for change, but don’t forget that part of that change requires destigmatising and offering constant support to victims. You can’t predict how the brain will respond to trauma – be mindful.
To Heaven
It could have been a church service.
I am the confessional
and with all of his sins
he came into me
as I pleaded silent for a god.
He finished up with my body
then he dropped it off home,
handed it over to my mother
and she said
thank you
I’m so glad she’s home in one piece,
there’s bad people out there you know.
I have been scattering my ashes ever since.
He collected me at the bottom of the drink
body limp at the altar, no, the bathroom floor.
I left his face in the taxi
but not his earring or the shape of his beard.
His outfit erased
but not his voice.
His name gone but not the smell of his breath.
I left my brain in 2018
in a midnight call from the police,
picked it up later and ran it under the tap.
Learned to sleep.
To see people not threats.
To tell my mother that I love her
and stop being a ghost around my friends.
Coated my mind with the safety blanket
of it’s already happened once.
See it in the news.
In needles in drinks in every man I know.
Smoke half a pack of cigarettes
then remember that gin and sleeping pills
would be rich to call themselves a temporary fix
dance with a stranger to prove that I’m fine
skip dinner
take him home
pick up my brain and dust it off
kick him out
go for a walk at 3am
wonder if I put myself here
on purpose
forget every conversation I’ve had in the past two weeks
(I think that’s called self-preservation).
Try to find the parts of me that made it out alive.
Never get to heaven.
I see him sometimes still when I fall asleep.
He is holding his daughter’s hand
walking through the park
and they turn back
and wave
at her mother
and they are so happy.
They get to never know.
Support group that aids in reporting to police - Sexual violence services - Victim Support
Service that helps finding local services - The Survivors Trust
Support for the family and friends of victims - What can friends and family members do to support survivors of sexual abuse? | Safeline - Believe in you - Surviving sexual abuse & rape
Written by Elizabeth Marney
I’m Liz and I’ve grown quite fond of writing, usually quite over-dramatically, about how I’ve experienced the world so far! I’m a third year politics and philosophy student and love to get involved with anything a big quirky - my current hobby being pole dancing. I’m just floating through life, figuring things out at the moment, really!
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