Eggshell Skull

Brutal, unflinching, harrowing, brave. Bri Lee's memoir of being a law associate dealing with sexual assault cases and then becoming a complainant in her own case is an extraordinary tale. The amount of times Bri gets knocked down and then gets up again are truly remarkable and inspiring. And the amount of times the defendant and his legal team get to delay (and delay and delay) the legal proceedings are absolutely disgusting. No wonder many women never seek justice. Hopefully, Bri's example will give some courage and inspiration to other women dealing with the aftermath of sexual trauma.

In this searingly honest and revealing memoir, Bri Lee shares her personal journey as she pursues justice after reporting a childhood sexual assault.

After graduating from the University of Queensland with a degree in law, Bri is one of the lucky few to gain a year long position as an associate for a District Judge. The position involves the pair traveling between Brisbane and regional areas of Queensland to adjudicate cases in courts who do not have a full time Judge. Bri is excited for the opportunity, but with each case becomes increasingly disillusioned by the justice system which seems to be particularly weighted against women and children who are victims of sexual violence. The victims experiences resonate with Bri because she was show more molested as a child by a friend of her older brother.

Bri had never felt able to reveal the abuse, instead filtering her emotional pain and confusion through cutting, bulimia, and self-loathing, which increased during her time as an Associate. Despite witnessing the repeated failures of the system, Bri is infused with the courage to finally report her experience, in part recognising the advantages she holds as a complainant, a privilege she relates to the Eggshell Skull doctrine.

I’ve seen some criticism levelled at this book because of that privilege, however none of it negates her experience as a victim, or a survivor. Bri’s journey is intensely personal, as it is for all those who experience sexual violence, but she is in an unique position to highlight the justice system’s flaws and inequities, not only in relation to her own case, but also how that might translate into the cases of others.

I found Eggshell Skull compelling reading that stirred a range of emotions from fury, to despair, to hope, and admiration, and everything in between. There is still so much fighting to do.

“In Queensland an estimated 30,000 sexual assaults occur each year, yet in 2017, just 4751 sex crimes were officially reported to police. Around half that number proceeded to trial (2446 cases) but of them, only 835 resulted in a guilty verdict. Of the 835 perpetrators found guilty of sex offences in Queensland in 2017, roughly half — 44 per cent — were released straight back on to the streets with a mere slap on the wrist, such as a fine, a community service order or a suspended sentence....Perpetrators who did go to jail also received very brief sentences.” - Queensland is Australia’s worst state for sexual abuse survivors to find justice - Nina Funnell, News.com.au, December 13th 2018 show less

This book is at once a powerful self-reckoning memoir and a glimpse into the Australian legal system, particularly regarding sexual assault and women’s rights.

There were tears. Lots of snot-inducing tears.

It’s not an easy book to consume. Having said that, it’s so incredibly important to women the world over that I put it down as a must-must-must-read.

Trigger warning: this book deals with sexual assault, harassment and rape (including victims who are children).

Heartbreaking

Very readable but extremely discomfiting to read

Bravo to Bri Lee for all she survived, and for telling her story, and the stories of the other women contained herein.

This book has triggers aplenty. If you can tolerate them I highly recommend it.

Insightful and moving. Absolutely nails the pace. The tension stretches you onto the next page. Also gets the reveal plotted perfectly. I really liked it (even if I ended up wanting to apologise for the whole of the male gender).

As gripping as any novel; but very sobering, sometimes depressing. The justice system is so tilted against women reporting sexual abuse. Makes me, as a man, want to apologise to all women on behalf of my gender.

Bri Lee navigates the complexities of working in the legal system while coming to terms with her own abuse as a child. I’d really been looking forward to this one but it didn’t quite land with me as much as I’d hoped.