Tackling child sexual abuse: An action-led approach

By Professor Aisha K. Gill*

A decade-old scandal involving the grooming, trafficking and abuse of young girls has gained renewed media attention following incendiary comments from US-based tech billionaire Elon Musk.

In 2014, a report by Professor Alexis Jay estimated that 1,400 girls had been sexually exploited in Rotherham, Rochdale and Oldham by gangs of mostly Pakistani men. Ostensibly fearing accusations of racism, authorities hesitated to address the ethnic dimension of the crimes. At the same time, local officials deemed the abuse to be consensual sexual activity, consequently leaving women and girls with no support. In 2022, Jay, as chair of the Independent Inquiry into Child Sex Abuse (IICSA), released a subsequent report drawing on the experiences of 7,300 victims and survivors and offering twenty recommendations for reforms to tackle child sexual abuse. These are yet to be implemented.

In a series of recent posts on X, Musk accused Prime Minister Keir Starmer of failing to address these crimes during his tenure as the UK’s top prosecutor, labelling him “complicit in the rape of Britain” and called for his resignation. He also accused UK Safeguarding Minister Jess Phillips of being a “rape genocide apologist” and called for her imprisonment – following statements from  Phillips, along with Professor Jay, that a government inquiry into these cases is unnecessary and would only delay action being taken to help victims and survivors.

Musk’s thinking and language is consistent with a broader  political narrative pushed by the far right in the UK: that Britain, and particularly white girls, need ‘saving’ from Muslim men, and that white men must be their saviours. In misogynist and Islamophobic terms, he is ascribing blame to individuals rather than addressing the underlying systemic failures that have contributed to the endemic problem of child sexual abuse in the UK. By shifting the focus away from victims and the institutions that let them down, Musk’s inflammatory rhetoric does little more than incite division and hatred.

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The portrayal of victims

I have researched press reports of the grooming scandal and of UK child sexual abuse cases over the last decade, including in Rochdale. My work reveals that while the media often adopted a sympathetic attitude towards the victims, the statutory agencies involved in these cases did not. In the Rochdale case, many of the professionals who worked with young victims viewed them as having made “lifestyle choices” (Syal, 2013) by freely engaging in sexual activity involving Pakistani men; some labelled the girls, including those as young as 12, “prostitutes”. quoted Survivor Caitlin Spencer (a pseudonym) faced intense interrogation from the police following her disclosure and was refused their protection. Quoted in The Mail Online (Boyle, 2017) she revealed, “For that reason, I never took it further. The police told my mother that I was a known prostitute and to leave me to it, that I’d stop when I was ready”. Caitlin’s experience highlights how those being exploited were viewed by authorities and suggests strongly that class prejudice within the police, rather than ‘political correctness’, lay behind their failure to investigate the offences. It also emphasises the influence of patriarchal conceptions of gender that are evident in Musk’s commentary. Class status for women (and girls) is often mediated through moral demarcations that emphasise respectable sexual behaviour and gender presentation. A woman’s failure to maintain classed and gendered sexual standards often results in her being labelled a “slut” (or, in this case, a “prostitute”).

The media’s sympathetic portrayal of victims was also a double-edged sword. In reporting on the Rochdale cases, its ‘sympathy’ for white victims was balanced by an equal and opposite demonisation of the perpetrators on racialised grounds. By focussing on perpetrators’ ethnic identity as a rationale for the abuse, reports cast South Asian men as dangerous sex offenders and positioned the British state as a reformed patriarchy seeking to rescue and protect white women and girls from deviant and abusive minority ethnic men. The dangers of this are numerous, with the over-identification of South Asian men as sexual predators directly linked to a surge in far-right, Islamophobic and anti-immigrant discourse.

Musk’s commentary encapsulates this tendency perfectly. His recent posts frame the scandal in terms of race and gender, thereby avoiding the ways in which the police and other state agencies failed to properly investigate these cases and support victims. His commentary, like the negative media characterisations of perpetrators over the last decade, has been amplified by social media algorithms, adding fuel to the fire of cultural Islamophobia and severely compromising how South Asian men and communities are perceived by the wider population. Furthermore, giving disproportionate attention to a particular case or group of offenders distracts from the prevalence of child sexual abuse in the UK as a whole. Opportunities to identify and address the majority of cases, in which the perpetrators are more often white men, are lost in polemics over identity politics and white saviour narratives.

Many cases of child sexual abuse are already likely to remain hidden because of the tendency for such crimes to go unreported. Victims are often unlikely to come forward because they fear retribution from the offender, the stigma of sexual abuse, and concerns that they will not be believed and that the legal system will not bring them justice.

Moreover, offenders are often seen as ‘nice guys’ by their friends and colleagues. Many befriend and seduce their victims, taking advantage of their vulnerability. According to the prosecution in the Rochdale cases, the defendants threatened to harm the girls, or their families, should they attempt to flee. Through such intimidation, the men exercised control over the girls who, because of their history of traumatic experiences and difficult home lives, were particularly vulnerable to exploitation.

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Time for action

The government has ceded to pressure and agreed to organise and fund five government-backed local inquiries. Cooper has stated that “effective local inquiries can delve into far more local detail and deliver more locally relevant answers, and change, than a lengthy nationwide inquiry can provide”. In my view, the £5 million announced for funding these locally-led inquiries would be better spent on promoting specialist, preventative, therapeutic provision for the victims of child sexual exploitation. The government needs to set out a timeline regarding its commitment with regard to responding to the evidence contained in the IICSA report and urgently implementing its recommendations. This is critical for both improving the support offered to child and adult survivors of child sexual abuse and also addressing the systemic failures that were exposed by Professor Jay’s 2014 and 2022 reports. For too long, piecemeal, uncoordinated responses have allowed agencies to, both individually and collectively, deny accountability, by blaming ‘cultural sensitivities’ for their actions and failures to act. In reality, what seems to lie at the heart of their inaction is a callous disregard for abused women’s right to protection. Disjointed, dysfunctional practices will continue, even if positive legislative changes are implemented, until effective, consistent training of the police, social workers, health workers, and youth and community workers is provided to educate these groups about the issues faced by children who are at risk of exploitation.

Finally, raising moral outrage online over the issue of child sexual abuse and exploitation while simultaneously perpetrating harmful racial stereotypes serves a cynical agenda – not the victims of these crimes. It uses vulnerable women and girls as a front for igniting racialised violence and undermining the UK’s current administration, and so promoting right-wing policies on immigration and related issues. Musk’s rhetoric should be disavowed in place of action. We all share a collective responsibility to improve our understanding of the cultural specificities and institutional barriers that impede child sexual exploitation disclosure—only then will we be in a position to promote appropriate prevention and support.

Author details

Aisha K. Gill, Ph.D., FRSA CBE is an internationally and nationally acknowledged grassroots gender-based violence activist/researcher with over 20+ years’ experience, focused on Black and minoritized communities’ women and girls’ experiences of forced marriage, rape, policing, sexual violence, child sexual exploitation, FGM/C, and femicidal violence in the name of ‘honour’, which relates to issues around the intersections between law, policy and practice. She is currently Professor of Criminology and Head of Centre for Gender and Violence Research at the University of Bristol. In 2024 she was appointed Board of Trustees of Ashiana Network.  [https://research-information.bris.ac.uk/en/persons/aisha-k-gill | 📧 ak.gill@bristol.ac.uk ]

The unspeakable murder of Sara Sharif

By Professor Aisha K. Gill*

On Friday 15 November 2024, Sara Sharif’s father, Urfan Sharif, admitted to beating his daughter with a metal pole while she lay dying. Jurors at the Old Bailey heard that the 10-year-old was discovered dead in a bunkbed in the family home in Woking, Surrey, on 10 August 2023. Sharif, 42, and his wife Beinash Batool, 30,  were found guilty of her murder at the Central Criminal Court of murdering the schoolgirl after perpetrating a year-long “campaign of abuse” against her. Sara’s uncle Faisal Malik 29, was found not guilty of murder but guilty of causing or allowing the death of a child. This horrifying case exposes the inadequate response of key services in cases involving Black and minoritised children like Sara.

Sara was born on 11 January 2013 in Slough, Berkshire, to Polish mother Olga Domin and Pakistani father Urfan Sharif, a taxi driver who moved to the UK in 2001.The couple married in 2009 but separated in 2015 and then divorced. Sara lived with her mother until custody was awarded to Sharif in 2019. She then lived with her father, her stepmother, Batool, the couple’s four children and her uncle, Malik, in Woking.

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William Emlyn Jones KC suggested all three defendants were involved in Sara’s murder, although Sharif initially blamed Batool for Sara’s injuries: there were “multiple unexplained fractures in 25 locations” on Sara’s body, including a fracture to a bone in her neck, the vertebrae in her spine and in her hand. However, three weeks into the trial, he dramatically reversed his position and admitted to tying Sara up with the tape and hitting her with a cricket bat, metal pole and mobile phone in the days before she died. Asked why he had suddenly changed his evidence, he responded: “She was my daughter. I’ve been nasty, I’ve been mean with her. I couldn’t care for her; I didn’t do what a father should have done, and I’ll take responsibility for everything.”

The timeline for this horrific case of violence and abuse goes back to April 2023, when Sharif informed Sara’s school that she would be withdrawn and home-schooled with immediate effect. It was disclosed by a neighbour that “just before the Easter holidays [in 2023] she was in school and had cuts and bruises on her face and her neck.” The neighbour’s daughter asked what had happened and Sara said she’d fallen off a bike.

Shortly before her withdrawal from formal education, Sara’s primary school agreed to make a referral to social services because of a teacher’s concerns over bruises Sara had sustained; the court heard that a report was entered into the school’s child protection monitoring system on 10 March 2023. Yet six days after receiving this referral, Surrey County Council closed the investigation – why? Similarly, while the council and the police confirmed that they had contact with the family, the police described their interactions as “limited” and “historic”. Why was there no tracking by social services and the school of the reasons Sara was taken out of school given the “visible cuts and bruises on her face”?. Why was there no monitoring of Sara after she was taken out of school?

The case raises serious questions about the paucity, at least initially, of these key service responses and of critical safeguarding by teachers and others  at  Sara’s school. We now know from the court case that the abuse was being perpetrated by multiple adults in her family, and that she endured the ordeal for many months. Her teachers, social services and the police failed to protect her by adequately investigating the visible signs of abuse she was experiencing, and this underscores the fact that crimes like these involving Black and minoritised children often go under-investigated—at least until the victim has been killed.

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Part of the issue here is that police officers are inexperienced and ill-equipped when it comes to tackling such crimes. There has been very little research exploring the specific problem of child abuse from a multidisciplinary perspective. One reason for this gap is that the recent foregrounding in media and policy discourses of child abuse in racially minoritised communities has taken place through the lens of cultural essentialism, occluding the causes of child abuse by focusing on racialised elements, such as the role of traditional cultural practices. As Black and racially minoritised children are located at the intersection of multiple, overlapping structural inequalities, their specific experiences of victimisation are still largely overlooked in the criminological literature, even though solid progress has been made during the last decade in understanding child abuse in British Asian communities. For instance, my research has highlighted the role of cultural factors in concealing child abuse, including how notions of ‘honour’ often act as barriers to disclosure. Although honour and its inverse, shame, have been explored in many scholarly discussions of gendered violence in Asian communities, more work could enable culturally competent responses to child abuse cases, particularly by recognising the unique barriers and difficulties that racially minoritised victims face—these include shame, fear of being disbelieved, and self-blame. Identifying these factors and exploring how they can inhibit and facilitate disclosure would strengthen preventive strategies and improve treatment, support and understanding for all victims.

In Sara’s case, many bystanders also failed to disclose what was happening to her. One of Sara’s neighbours told the court they heard screaming, “constant crying” and “banging” coming from the Sharif family’s previous home, a flat in West Byfleet: “It almost seemed like [the children had] been locked in a bedroom, that constant rattling of a door, trying to get it open,” they said. They had often heard Batool “almost hysterical, screaming” at the children and her use of abusive language towards them. The neighbour once asked Batool if everything was OK and had “the door shut in my face”; they did not take their concerns further, and nor did the next person who lived in the flat, who told the court they thought they heard “smacking” from downstairs followed by a scream. Asked whether they had contacted the authorities, they said they “convinced [themselves] that everything was OK”: “I spoke to people and was told to mind my own business and ignore [it].” Someone who lived near the Sharif family’s next home, the house in Woking where Sara was killed, told police they heard a child’s scream in the days before the murder. “It did not sound good. I wondered to myself whether I should tell someone… I did not hear another scream or any other noise so I did not take it any further.”

It’s difficult to confront the fact that none of these neighbours intervened. But while barriers to disclosure in specific contexts remain opaque, it’s incredibly difficult to encourage bystanders and victims, especially children, to disclose swiftly and thus prevent further abuse. This can only be achieved by locating child abuse within an intersectional framework that enables effective examination of the dominant paradigms that may reduce this form of violence to a cultural or religious problem. All support agencies must work together to implement a more nuanced understanding of child abuse that addresses both the commonalities and particularities of such crimes across and within communities. It is therefore imperative that any review of the institutional failure to protect Sara from her family brings together all relevant partners—the police, health, social care and education—and robustly examines their practices to prevent a murder like this from happening again.

Author details

Aisha K. Gill, Ph.D., FRSA CBE is an internationally and nationally acknowledged grassroots gender-based violence activist/researcher with over 20+ years’ experience, focused on Black and minoritized communities’ women and girls’ experiences of forced marriage, rape, policing, sexual violence, child exploitation, FGM/C, and femicidal violence in the name of ‘honour’, which relates to issues around the intersections between law, policy and practice. She is currently Professor of Criminology and Head of Centre for Gender and Violence Research at the University of Bristol. In 2024, she was appointed Board of Trustees of Ashiana Network.  [https://research-information.bris.ac.uk/en/persons/aisha-k-gill | 📧 ak.gill@bristol.ac.uk ]

Photo credit: Aisha K. Gill