The story of a woman’s trauma is not Liam Neeson’s to tell

It is not the right or responsibility of a white man to appropriate the pain of a woman he knows as a teaching moment for himself or other white men

It’s startling to see public admissions of sentiments that can be described as violent racism, but that’s exactly what Liam Neeson provided yesterday in his Independent interview with Clémence Michallon.

The story, retold through Michallon’s specific style and tone, is one of his anger at learning someone he is close to was a victim of rape. So angry was he, that he began to imagine the person who has violated somebody he loves in the face of anyone who represents the assailant. As Michallon states through her further representations, with an academic and a psychologist, this is very common and known as secondary trauma. It can affect the partners, families or friends of any victim. Thoughts of revenge, and exploring revenge fantasies, can be a necessary component of dealing with trauma – this is usually done under the supervision of a mental health professional trained in such matters.

What is left unexplored, however, is how often secondary trauma like this intersects with patriarchy – a theme that occurs often in Neeson’s films, such as the popular Taken franchise.

White men as the saviour and distributor of retribution for the mistreatment of white women has a long and dark history, which often ends in the deaths of innocent black boys and men. Neeson, from his words, knows this. He brings up his experience during the Troubles and describes the origins of prejudice. And that, admittedly, can be difficult to spot if you are reading his remarks from the perspective of not having been a victim of oppression, whether that be racist or sexist in nature.

But that Neeson chose this story primarily – which is not even his to tell – as opposed to his own experience growing up in Northern Ireland, in order to explain how revenge can be so corrupting is the perfect example of the problem with both racism and sexism in our society.

Though the anonymity of the victim is guarded, at no point does it appear to occur to Neeson that he may not have the right to recount this story, or that repeating it in this way may be painful or frightening for both victims of sexual assault and those at risk of violent race-related hate crime.

The story of a rape of a woman and its effects is not a man’s property. And it is definitely not the right or responsibility of a white man to appropriate the pain and trauma of a woman he knows as a teaching moment for himself or other white men.

There are those seeking to defend Neeson, despite the stark clarity of his confession. If you are tempted to follow that path, I say this: don’t. Just as he does not have the right to take ownership of or seek to defend a woman’s story, there is also no right for others to dismiss the valid anger of black people and victims of sexual abuse on hearing the actor’s remarks.

To those condemning Neeson, that’s your right. In a society which is still dealing with the legacy of white supremacy, this is a reminder that accountability is required for progress to take place.

Neeson will likely face punishment for his honesty. He may be ostracised by his industry. Is that a progressive step? In our attempt to move toward an equal society should we allow space for those who have intended to carry out racist or violent acts, if they recant and realise the error of their thinking? Is an admission enough to constitute atonement?

These are difficult questions raised by this interview, not easily answered in the hours and days that follow it. When they are answered, however, it is the black and female voices that should be heard.