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This is me (+1) 2 years ago - the day after I left my career, reframed as a whistle-blower.
Doing the & #39;right& #39; thing, isn& #39;t the easiest thing; we& #39;ve a long way to go to protect those who challenge abuse, rather than protecting abusers (often walking away w/reputations intact)...
Doing the & #39;right& #39; thing, isn& #39;t the easiest thing; we& #39;ve a long way to go to protect those who challenge abuse, rather than protecting abusers (often walking away w/reputations intact)...
... organisations promise immunity from bullying & harassment of whistleblowers thereafter, but these policies are no more than empty platitudes, when promotions rely on nepotism, profit relies on reputation, & scandal must be negated at all costs.
As in so many areas of life, it& #39;s far easier to question the narrative of victims, than that of perpetrators; resolve dwindles quickly for most folk, under toweringly oppressive patriarchal structures, populated in the main by those narcissistic traits still widely fetishised.
And whereas my career was built on clear and honest advocation, how quickly we, and our skills, are vilified, when we employ them for ourselves & others, in these circumstances.
But back to that picture. Sitting in a cafe, my 2 year old laughing whilst I held back tears. Tears of exhaustion. Tears of fear; a breadwinner, unemployed, and seemingly unemployable. Lies circulating about circumstance (still, to this day), perpetuated by those protected.
Yet - for the first time in 18 months - that night, I slept without fear.
2 years have passed; I eventually stopped applying for jobs in my previous sector. I tentatively set out on my own - I now earn maybe 1/30th of what I did. I often struggle to make my bills. Occasionally, a whisper passes my ears, or a question raises eyebrows.
