As images of the tsunami had flooded households during Christmas holidays, the most generous and immediately funded humanitarian response in history emerged thanks to public donations. The post-disaster excess of INGOs turned into organisations competing for beneficiaries and getting in the way of each other, and we were at the heart of this humanitarian circus.

This is the first of a series of memoirs from my years as a humanitarian worker. Slightly different from my previous posts that had an essay format, now I share stories describing my life from a decade or two ago. I hope that my voice contributes to a more realistic narrative around a romanticised profession that requires more critical thinking.

Victims, particularly those who belong to the assisted population, appear as external actors with a passive role, therefore, organisations currently deprive them of agency when, instead, they should fully incorporate them into the fight against sexual abuse. It may seem unnecessary at first, but —not only is it the right thing to do— but it will also protect organisations from greater future liabilities.

I opened a Pandora's box leading to the conclusion that I had been in the wrong all along. Once I began wearing anti-racist lenses, I could not justify most of the unjust rules that favoured me and others like me.

I try to explain that having all male models, it took me a long time to adapt my behaviour to my inescapable condition of womanhood and, not adapting fast enough, paid poorly in my professional appraisals. He disagrees — he maintains that the system demands for strong submissiveness from everyone — and I accept we will have to disagree on this. I see we all downplay the privileges we enjoy, I know I have done the same with the racism that surrounded me: I saw sexism but took me longer to see racism.

Positive disclosure has helped me to shape and own my narrative. Writing has become a needed transformational step. I share here some stories around the time I was nearly raped.

What dragged me down, who lifted me.

P.S.

Writing this letter proved healing — part of the fourfold forgiveness path. Nevertheless, I have decided not to share my name, just my story. I have the last word and — although probably it is only in appearance — this time, I am the one in control.

I appreciate that there is a genuine intention from many people in the Aid sector to make protection against sexual exploitation and abuse (PSEA) a priority. Nevertheless, facts show that intentions do not materialise in the right actions and approach from humanitarian organisations…

Although my feedback did help them to improve procedures, my message explaining the essential failure of their system did not get through. It wasn’t so much that they didn’t believe me but that they didn’t listen to me.

Commitment to a humanitarian cause remains laudable, but stripping your sense of safety and having your mental health destroyed should not be part of the deal.

Humanitarian organisations protect predators with lame excuses that mirror the inefficiency of the legal systems they are embedded in. They could be tougher by believing and siding with the victims. They choose not to.

Some acronyms capture an idea accurately and create a new word with a distinctive meaning. In the case of DARVO, I felt like it also revealed a new concept highlighting a pervasive pattern of behavior around sexual misconduct.

Let me explain how it worked in my situation.

I reported every case of misconduct I observed when working as a humanitarian in remote war torn countries. I always thought that reporting would help to change things. However, every time I became the problem.

Let’s not justify incompetence, let’s be clear: by stating a policy of zero tolerance against sexual harassment, but not assigning enough resources to deal with an overwhelming number of cases, the organisation shows that they are merely trying to avoid litigation without a real commitment to change.

I felt the powerful organisation on which I was dependent and that I trusted had betrayed me, and this is the very definition of institutional betrayal.

I am convinced everyone involved with my case understands there was no consent.

The situation had gotten worse during the last week. His erratic behaviour had become more extreme and more aggressive. I could sense his hate and frustration in our interactions. His actions to humiliate me in front of the rest of the team …

Stripped of all sense of ownership or agency, I wished to read my files to gain some understanding of this painful episode. Allegedly, it’s only through the labour court — never a small affair in cases of mobbing or harassment — that I can have access to my complete dossier.

You address a matter that is very sensitive to me in a light and informal way… What has been the underlying process and investigation …? What is the process to appeal …? What are my rights …?

Read the email from the compliance office saying I was not sexually harassed.