A R*pe Survivor and the Man Who R*ped Her Have Teamed Up To Tell Their Story

Two people sit across from each other on a stage in front of 1,200 audience members. One is a woman who survived rape as a teenager. Beside her sits the man who raped her. Together, they are about to do something that has never been done before in public – discuss their shared trauma, his crime, and their controversial journey toward what they call reconciliation.

Outside, protesters wave banners and shout through megaphones. Inside, cameras roll as millions around the world prepare to witness an unprecedented moment in the conversation about sexual violence. What brought these two people to this stage has taken decades to unfold, challenging every assumption about justice and healing, and sparking fierce debate about whether some stories should ever be told in this way. Not everyone believes they should be sharing a platform at all.

When Your First Love Becomes Your Worst Nightmare

Christmas dance season in Iceland, 1996. Sixteen-year-old Thordis Elva felt like the luckiest girl in the world, attending her school’s formal dance with Tom Stranger, an 18-year-old Australian exchange student who had become her first love. For a month, their teenage romance had blossomed in the way first relationships do – intense, consuming, and seemingly perfect.

That night marked several firsts for Thordis: her first school dance, her first taste of rum, and her first experience with alcohol poisoning. What started as an attempt to impress her older boyfriend by drinking and smoking quickly turned into a medical emergency. Security guards wanted to call an ambulance as she drifted in and out of consciousness between violent episodes of vomiting.

Tom stepped in as her rescuer, convincing the guards he would take her home safely. Thordis felt profound gratitude as he carried her to a taxi and helped her into her family’s house while her parents were away. She trusted him entirely as he laid her in her bed – the place that should have been her sanctuary.

What happened next would shatter that trust and alter both their lives forever. For two hours, as Thordis lay paralyzed by alcohol and unable to fight back, Tom raped her. She counted the seconds on her alarm clock to stay sane, discovering that there are 7,200 seconds in two hours—a number that would haunt her for years.

Two days later, still limping from her injuries, Thordis received another devastating blow when Tom ended their relationship before returning to Australia.

Nine Years of Silence and Self-Destruction

Tom’s departure left Thordis alone with her trauma in a culture that taught girls they bear responsibility for sexual violence. Her skirt had been too short, her smile too wide, her breath smelled of alcohol – all the “reasons” society gives for why women get raped. Shame consumed her as she convinced herself the assault must have been her fault somehow.

Years passed in a spiral of self-destruction. Eating disorders, alcohol abuse, and self-harm became Thordis’s coping mechanisms as she struggled to understand what had happened to her. Friends and family assumed she was simply dealing with teenage heartbreak, never suspecting the more profound trauma beneath her withdrawal.

By age 25, Thordis was heading toward a complete breakdown. Nine years of carrying this secret had poisoned her relationships and crushed her self-worth. After a tough fight with a loved one, she stormed out and found herself in a cafe, asking for a pen. What poured out onto paper would change everything.

“I want to find forgiveness stared back at me, surprising nobody more than myself. But deep down, I realized that this was my way out of my suffering because regardless of whether or not he deserved my forgiveness, I deserved peace,” she would later reflect on that pivotal moment.

One Letter Changes Everything

Thordis’s letter to Tom contained a detailed account of the rape and its devastating impact on her life. After hitting send, she expected denial, silence, or legal threats. Instead, she received something that shocked her: a confession.

Tom’s response revealed that he, too, had been imprisoned by silence, though for very different reasons. For nine years, he had suppressed memories of that night through what he described as unconscious denial. “It wasn’t so much a conscious refusal. It was more like any acknowledgement of reality was forbidden. My definition of my actions completely refuted any recognition of the immense trauma I caused Thordis,” he admitted.

His email ended with a simple question that would launch an eight-year correspondence: “Where to go from here?”

Eight Years of Correspondence Across Continents

What followed was an intensive written dialogue between two people separated by geography but connected by trauma. Tom slowly began to acknowledge his actions as rape rather than sex, confronting the reality he had buried for nearly a decade. He expressed his belief that he deserved prison time for his crime, though the statute of limitations had long since passed.

Thordis found the exchange helpful but incomplete. Written words, no matter how honest, felt insufficient for the magnitude of what they were processing. She needed something more—a face-to-face confrontation with her past that could provide real closure.

Her proposal was audacious: meet halfway between Iceland and Australia for an intensive week of conversation about their shared history.

Meeting Halfway Around the World

Cape Town, South Africa, became their chosen destination, both geographically and symbolically, as it was well-suited for what they hoped to accomplish. South Africa’s history of truth and reconciliation provided a powerful backdrop for their attempt at healing.

For one week, they spoke their life stories to each other from start to finish. Conversations ranged from the specific details of that December night to the broader impact on their subsequent relationships, careers, and self-perception. Moments of breakthrough alternated with periods where they felt like they were speaking entirely different languages.

Doubt crept in frequently. Thordis questioned whether she had made a terrible mistake traveling across the world to face someone who had caused her such pain. Yet by the end of their time together, both felt they had accomplished something significant—not forgiveness in the traditional sense, but a transfer of responsibility from victim to perpetrator.

From Private Pain to Public Platform

Their week in Cape Town led to a book, “South of Forgiveness,” and eventually to something unprecedented in discussions about sexual violence: a joint TED talk that would be viewed by over 2.7 million people worldwide.

Tom became the first confessed rapist to speak publicly and internationally about his crime without being identified by a court. Their presentation challenged traditional narratives about sexual violence by shifting focus from victim behavior to perpetrator responsibility.

But their decision to share a platform sparked immediate controversy among activists, survivors, and advocates who questioned whether rapists should ever be given such opportunities to speak.

Protesters at the Palace: When Healing Becomes Controversial

“There’s a rapist in the building,” protesters shouted as they blocked the entrance to London’s Royal Festival Hall, where Thordis and Tom were scheduled to speak. Their event had already been dropped from the Women of the World Festival following pressure from campaigners. Still, it was then rescheduled by organizers who deemed the conversation too essential to silence.

Critics argued that giving Tom a platform normalized sexual violence and suggested that reconciliation with rapists should be expected of survivors. They worried about triggering other survivors and potentially encouraging perpetrators to contact their victims seeking similar absolution.

Seventy-five-year-old protester Diane Langford, herself a rape survivor, condemned the event: “I’m here because I feel a rapist is profiting from his rape. I don’t believe there can ever be impunity for a rapist.”

Two Sides of a Complicated Conversation

Supporters saw value in hearing directly from a perpetrator about his crime and its impact. Audience members appreciated that Thordis maintained control of her narrative while Tom’s carefully chosen words seemed to acknowledge the problematic nature of his presence.

Tom insisted he wasn’t seeking redemption or financial benefit, donating book profits to charity and speaking without payment. Yet critics argued he would still gain cultural capital and media attention from his status as the “vocal rapist.”

Men’s engagement with the discussion proved limited. A men-only conversation scheduled after their main event attracted only two participants, underscoring the limited number of men willing to engage with these issues personally.

Forgiveness vs Justice: What Victims Need

Thordis worked to clarify misconceptions about her approach, emphasizing that forgiveness served her healing rather than absolving Tom. She described her forgiveness as “white-hot from the whetstone” with the sole purpose of severing ties to her trauma.

Her process challenged the myth that there is a “right way” to respond to sexual violence. Too many survivors face criticism for not being angry enough, not pressing charges, or not reacting as others expect. Thordis insisted that each person’s healing journey must be respected, whether it involves forgiveness, anger, or any other response.

Rape Crisis and other support organizations welcomed the debate while cautioning that Thordis’s approach would not be appropriate for everyone. They emphasized the importance of individual choice in the healing process.

Breaking the Monster Myth

Part of what made their story so challenging for people to process was that Tom didn’t fit the profile of a “monster.” He wasn’t an armed stranger attacking in a dark alley – he was a trusted boyfriend committing rape in what should have been a safe space.

Thordis argued that demonizing perpetrators hindered her recovery by making it harder to recognize what had happened to her as rape. Known individuals commit most sexual violence, not the sensationalized predators portrayed in the media.

Acknowledging perpetrators as people who made terrible choices rather than inhuman monsters might better serve prevention efforts and survivor healing.

Global Impact of an Icelandic Story

Their international speaking engagements and media coverage sparked conversations about consent, responsibility, and healing in dozens of countries. Academic and advocacy communities remain divided on their methodology, with some praising their courage while others condemn their approach.

Other survivors have shared varied reactions to their story, with some feeling inspired by Thordis’s agency while others feel pressured to forgive their attackers. Support organizations continue emphasizing that no single approach works for everyone.

Where Traditional Justice Falls Short

Their case highlighted gaps in legal systems that leave many survivors without recourse. When Thordis finally recognized what had happened to her as rape, Tom was on another continent and the statute of limitations was approaching expiration. Like 70% of rape cases in Iceland at the time, hers likely would have been dismissed even if she had reported immediately.

Their alternative approach to accountability emerged from this failure of institutional justice. While controversial, it represents one attempt to address harm when traditional systems prove inadequate.

Whether their model offers valuable insights or dangerous precedents continues to divide experts and survivors alike. What remains clear is that their story has permanently altered conversations about sexual violence, responsibility, and healing, forcing uncomfortable questions about justice, forgiveness, and the complex humanity of both victims and perpetrators.