When Thordis Elva and Tom Stranger took the stage together and delivered a TED Talk in 2016, it elicited a lot of reactions. After hearing their story, some praised the two for coming together and broaching a subject that's so complicated and stigmatized. Others were outraged that Thordis allowed Tom on stage with her. See, while the two were dating in 1996 as teenagers, Tom raped Thordis. After the assault, Thordis said she spent years blaming herself and trying to unpack what had happened to her. Part of Thordis's healing process included reaching out to Tom nine years later, which triggered a years-long exchange between the two. But when words weren't enough, Thordis and Tom met up in Cape Town to discuss the rape face to face. That's what lead to their TED Talk, and now the two have published a book together called South of Forgiveness, out today, exploring the assault and the impact it had on both of them. We spoke to Thordis about why she went on this journey, what she learned, and what she wants people to know about sexual assault.
Teen Vogue: Did humanizing Tom help you heal?
Thordis Elva: Tom was already a human being in my eyes, as we'd been in a romantic relationship for a month before he raped me. But as a 16-year-old girl who hadn't given much thought to sexual violence, my ideas about perpetrators came from TV shows, where it was usually an armed, monstrous lunatic who lurked in the bushes. Therefore I couldn't identify Tom's actions for what they were and spent a long time blaming myself instead of getting the support I needed. By the time I'd dismantled my misconceptions, Tom had moved to the other side of the planet, which left me feeling hopeless about pressing charges. As a result, this demonized idea of perpetrators got in the way of my healing. I believe it can cause further harm, because if people cling to the notion that "only monsters rape," it makes survivors less likely to be believed when their perpetrator doesn't fit that stereotype. And perpetrators are less likely to see their own actions as abusive if they don't view themselves as monsters, which hardly anyone does. So I think demonization distances us from the truth: that a majority of sexual violence is committed by friends, spouses, and family members — in other words people who make terrible choices, not monsters. That fact doesn't lessen the severity of their crimes in any way.
TV: How did you feel about Tom expressing his feelings about his actions to you in his letters? Was it hard for you to reconcile his pain?
TE: For nine years after the rape, I tried to outrun my past, relying on various destructive coping mechanisms. I hit rock bottom at the age of 25, which compelled me to write a letter to Tom, confronting him about the violence he subjected me to. Due to a short statute of limitations, criminal justice will never be served in our case. This didn't lessen my need to place the blame with Tom, where it belonged, in order to let go of the responsibility I'd wrongfully shouldered. I didn't expect a reply, let alone a confession that would spark an eight-year-long correspondence. The aim of it wasn't to explore Tom's feelings; it was to make him understand how his actions had impacted my life. The fact that he expressed remorse and owned up to his deed was helpful for my healing, as it acknowledged the suffering I'd gone through. But I don't think that survivors of violence are dependent on their perpetrators in that regard. I think that the most important thing for survivors is to be believed when they tell their stories, and to have their pain acknowledged by someone. That someone can be a friend, a therapist, or a family member. We can all be that person.
TV: You write that you wanted to find forgiveness. Why did you want or need to do that?
TE: I struggled with self-blame for years because I had my first taste of rum that fateful night and became incapacitated, unable to fight back or utter a word. That doesn't change the fact that Tom didn't seek my consent, and as a result, what he did to me was rape. In terms of forgiveness, some people see it as laying your blessing over the hurt that was caused. That's not at all how I see it. For me, forgiveness underlines the hurt but states that you don't want to be weighed down by it anymore. Hatred and anger are natural responses when someone hurts you deeply, but after years of nourishing those feelings toward Tom, I realized that they were making it harder for me to lead a happy, sustainable life. Most of all, I wanted to free myself from the shame and self-blame I'd wrongfully shouldered, and forgiveness was a way to sever that tie. It wasn't for Tom; it was an act of release that I did for myself with the hope that it would enable me to have a brighter future. It was helpful in terms of my healing, but it's by no means a formula I'm putting forth for other people.
TV: What was the most eye-opening thing you learned through meeting with Tom?
TE: The correspondence was useful and led to a certain level of understanding, but at the end of the day, the written format is a silent medium. By meeting him face to face, I discovered that there's something empowering about giving voice to your experiences, to literally breaking your silence. After going public with our story, I've learned about restorative justice initiatives around the world, where survivors and perpetrators meet up with the aim of processing acts of abuse, much as Tom and I did. It has strengthened my belief that under the right circumstances, where safety is guaranteed, this kind of dialogue can have a constructive and restorative effect.
TV: What do you hope people learn from your book?
TE: I read somewhere that you should try to be the person you needed when you were younger. When I was a teenager locked up in her own silence, I would've needed to know that the shame wasn't mine, that there's hope after rape, and that it's even possible to find happiness, like I share with my husband, Vidir, today. If reading the book led to a better understanding of how imperative consent is, not to mention if would-be perpetrators would refrain from overstepping boundaries as a result of learning about our story, it will have served its purpose. South of Forgiveness is written with a great deal of hope that a deep pain could be transformed into something useful, that it can contribute to a discussion about sexual violence and ultimately prevent abuse.
TV: Many criticized you for speaking publicly with Tom, saying you are giving your rapist a platform to tell his story when many sexual assault survivors are still given no platform at all. How would you respond to this?
TE: The majority of responses have been positive, but there have been those who find the notion of hearing from a perpetrator provocative and uncomfortable, hazardous even. I'd agree if Tom were abusing the platforms we've been given to whitewash himself, profit from his crime, or downplay the seriousness of rape. But our aim is to do the opposite, to underline the devastating impact of sexual violence while shedding light on some of the toxic attitudes that foster it. Yes, Tom is an individual who is responsible for his choices, and yet he wasn't born in a vacuum. Unfortunately, I don't think the entitlement he felt to my body, as my boyfriend who was in a relationship with me, is unique to him. I think these ideas are shared by other people, and that has to end. By offering our personal story up for discussion, I'm hoping it can lead to conversations about the importance of consent and having your boundaries respected, whether you're in a relationship or not. It should be a universal human right. Last but not least, Tom is donating his profits from South of Forgiveness to charity.
TV: What do you want to say to other survivors of sexual assault?
TE: You did nothing to deserve what happened to you, and you're not alone. There's an organization called RAINN for survivors of rape, abuse, and incest, where you can get help. My personal journey is by no means put forth as recommended method for others. The only recommendation I have is for you to put your own safety first. There's no "right" or "wrong" way to react to violence, and you are allowed to heal from it in whatever way that feels safe and right for you.
If you or someone you know has been sexually assaulted, you can seek help by calling the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800-656-HOPE (4673). For more resources on sexual assault, visit RAINN, End Rape on Campus, Know Your IX, and the National Sexual Violence Resource Center.
Related: We Are Survivors of Sexual Assault, and These Are Our Stories