‘Cyberflashing must be made a criminal offence’
Fay Jones MP was scarred by the personal experienced of being flashed by a man in Cardiff. But while flashing is a criminal offence, she argues it’s time its digital twin – cyberflashing – was illegal too
CARDIFF city centre was my playground growing up.
I’d get off the train at Queen Street and roam the shops, looking for a way to waste my teenage pocket money.
As a young adult, Queen Street and Churchill Way were the gateway to party central. Now in my mid-30s, I think of the fun I had in “town”, but also of a fleeting, dark episode which I have never been able to forget.
In 2002, I was 17 years old. I had just passed my driving test and, flush with my new-found independence, I offered lifts to whoever I could just so that I could get behind the wheel.
One Saturday night, I went above and beyond and offered my dad a lift home from town after one of his black tie dinners.
At about 10pm, I parked my car in Churchill Way and made my way to the restaurant where my dad was having dinner.
A tall, young man walked towards me.
I remember him now – older than me but in his 20s. Good looking. I remember thinking: ‘Ooh, he’s nice’ as he came towards me.
He caught my eye and began to speak. This was quite exciting, I thought – the handsome man wanted to talk to me.
“Scuse me?” he said.
I assumed he wanted directions. “Do you want some of this?” he slurred at me, gesturing downwards.
From under his hoodie he took hold of his penis and testicles in both hands, offering them up to me.
My reflex was to look away. “Eurgh, f**k off” was the only thing I could think to say. I belted into the restaurant, already burning with shame.
Dad and I did not speak in the car on the way home.
Dad is a man of few words so I could get away with it but I simply couldn’t tell him what had just happened to me. I felt terrible.
I knew something wrong had taken place but the strongest feeling I couldn’t shake off was shame. Was it my fault? Had I caused it for thinking he was attractive?
Did he somehow hear my thoughts and think I wanted to see his penis and testicles?
As a 36-year-old woman, I am terrified by my own thought process. It’s a sign of today’s society that a 17-year-old girl can think herself responsible for inducing a sexual assault purely through thought.
Fast forward 19 years and I found myself thinking about that episode again in March this year.
Women across the country found themselves outraged in solidarity at the kidnap, rape, and murder of Sarah Everard in March of this year.
Our outrage stems from the fact that we have all been there. We have either come close to being, or we know, a Sarah.
We have all walked home with a plan in our heads for how to let our family know we are safe.
More than one friend sniggered when I told the story of the man in Churchill Way. But this is no joke. It is a crime. It is intrusive, indecent and threatening. It is gateway offence.
I refuse to name him but the man responsible for the murder of Sarah Everard was accused of flashing six years before his brutal attack.
Flashing is a criminal offence. But its sinister digital twin is not.
Cyber flashing has two sick currents: sending an unsolicited explicit picture to someone you follow online; or, more repulsive still: using Bluetooth or AirDrop to force photos of your genitals to strangers on public transport or in a public space. Often an offender will be lurking somewhere in the train carriage, watching to see if they get a reaction.
This is all about power. I’m afraid
to say, it’s about men exerting their power by removing women’s.
It’s also about consent; I did not consent to be flashed. And thousands of women up and down the country do not consent to receiving explicit, filthy photos on a daily basis.
But relationships now are much more digital.
Sharing intimate photos between willing adults is a part of modern courtship for some.
With so many more young people living their lives online – and even more post-pandemic relationships springing up from digital dates – it is important to separate lawful image sharing and the pernicious offence of cyber flashing.
The safeguarding minister Victoria Atkins told the House of Commons in September that “what is illegal offline should be illegal online”. A layer of glass is on a mobile phone screen is not enough protection – we need to criminalise cyber-flashing.
In the wake of Sarah Everard’s death, the government asked to hear the testimony of women around the country through a consultation on the Violence Against Women and Girls Strategy. Tens of thousands of women came forward. The government is working its way through those responses but the call is clear – make cyber-flashing a crime.
The Government is about to publish its Online Harms Bill and if this isn’t an online harm I don’t know what is. Cyber-flashing needs to made a criminal offence.