A lot of the time the answers to the "why didn't she report it" question tend to be quite abstract like statistics, research etc.
AIBU to hope with all my being that maybe, just maybe , reading some real life stories and experiences will explain why and won't be as easily dismissed?
So here is my story, one of them at least.
As a teenager I needed a maths tutor before some very important exam. The one my parents chose was a Uni mathematics professor with a great reputation and accomplishments, in the classroom and in his tutoring groups. He was the man to pick if you wanted your kids to get good results and parents felt grateful/lucky to get a spot for their kids, often needing a referral or a good word put in by someone with some standing.
The first few sessions were normal , bog standard,brain melting maths. These took place in his house, with his wife and son at home. The sessions were in groups of 5/6. I was with 4 other girls. Then during one session, while leaning over to help me with a maths problem he put his hands under my jumper. It was winter so it was a big bulky , high neck red jumper. I remember the colour of it and the rather scratchy feeling of it vividly. First on my back, around my waist, while still talking and explaining the answer. Then his hands moved up and he started grabbing, pinching, twisting. Through it all I remember stupidly still trying to solve that stupid equation and trying to focus on his words. Because what was happening it couldn't be happening. His hands were not on me. Who does that? I'm imagining it. It's some kind of accident. It's not happening. It's not happening. I even went again (did that imply consent, did I secretly want it, did it mean it wasn't that bad, did it mean it didn't happen) and 10 minutes in he came to "help" me again. Humiliatingly, I still didn't say or do anything. I just sat there, got on with my maths, screaming in my head that this isn't happening. Screaming in my head to do something,to say something. If he does it again I will, i promised myself. He did, I didn't. Next time.
That night I told my mother. She laughed at me, she made a crude joke. I rang him myself pretending to be her and cancelling my sessions. He didn't put up a fight and I remember how stupidly proud i was for dealing with it and "pulling one over him" and for actually doing it since I'd been dreading it and practiced for hours what I would say and how I would say it.
I didn't report because I was young and had had no support to do so. I didn't report because despite 4 witnesses, they didn't see anything . I didn't report because who would believe slutty old me, vs a Uni professor with a great reputation. I didn't report because I probably deserved it, I went back, I was this and that and the other. I didn't report because it was never presented as a real option.
It turns out the adults fucking knew. They whispered and warned each other about it. They gossiped and shared knowing looks about it. My own mother was told not to send me to him. But his results were more important, his reputation was more important, our grades were more important than our bodies, our sanity, our safety ,our voices.
I'm not looking for sympathy and I'm sorrys and flowers. It is what it is. It happened.
If anyone else wants to add their story, to share,to be heard, to be listened to , to be believed, to just let another soul know and let it all out (and hopefully to educate-as a side effect not a main goal) feel free to share, but no pressure to do so.