AS I sat down to write this, I found myself in the unusual position of not knowing what to say or even where to start.

I woke up yesterday morning with a kind of emotional hangover, that mixture of tiredness and dread that is typically associated with night of unrestrained drinking. I imagine that for many women who witnessed the sadistic spectacle of the Brett Kavanaugh hearing on Thursday, that feeling of weariness is familiar.

Dr Christine Blasey Ford said it was her “civic duty” to let the senate judiciary committee know about the sexual assault that she allegedly endured, aged 15, at the hands of supreme court nominee Brett Kavanaugh. Asked how certain she was that it was him that attacked her she replied “100%”.

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It was billed as unmissable TV and a historic moment with potentially explosive consequences that would see the nation “riveted”. Perhaps for some who were able to separate the politics from the personal, it was just that.

I won’t waste words on the twists and turns of the hearing. Much has been written about that already, and the “he said/she said” aspect of the commentary is part of the reason the whole spectacle was so unedifying. We need change. Dr Ford’s unwavering courage and fortitude in exposing her account of what happened to the sceptical eyes of millions cannot be underestimated. That should not allow us to fool ourselves into believing that her alleged mistreatment was unique or even uncommon. There is a deep-rooted and largely unconscious credibility gap between men and women.

In the treatment of Dr Ford we saw how gendered expectations collide with myths about sexual violence. Society’s entrenched ideas of what a victim looks like and crucially – what an abuser looks like – are rooted in a complete misunderstanding of the power dynamics at play. These misconceptions blur the lenses through which we assess who is credible, where our sympathies should lie and ultimately, who should be believed.

The “monster myth” spreads the falsehood that real men don’t commit these crimes. As such, those who can proudly point to friendships with women, good relations with female co-workers and a love for mothers and daughters – are able to persuade us that they couldn’t possibly treat other women badly.

That myth is rooted in another: that sexual violence is a compulsion, not a choice. Some even go as far as to suggest that rape is an over-pouring of unrestrained lust, and that if women just dress modestly then they can protect themselves against it.

Rape and sexual assault are about power and control, so it is entirely plausible – eminently logical – that a man can both be friends with women while being violent to others.

In the court of public opinion, with all its unreasonable and misogynistic demands of survivors, Dr Ford should have come out well. She is white, well-educated and comes from a privileged background. She said she wasn’t drunk and didn’t flirt before the alleged sexual assault. All the usual tropes about how she – as a 15-year-old girl – could have brought the attack on herself, didn’t apply. She was the mythical and utterly grotesque standard of a “perfect victim”.

Many women will have analysed how their own experiences of sexual violence would have been received in that hearing room. They will have considered what gaps in their memory could have been seized on and what behaviours in their pasts would have rendered them an unsuitable and problematic witness to their own trauma.

Of course, Dr Ford’s impeccable presentation and credentials ultimately didn’t matter. She had to be perfect. He just had to be a powerful man. That glaring double-standard is why so many women have felt this inhumane circus like a crushing weight in their hearts. For all the talk of #MeToo and a reckoning that’s waiting in the wings, nothing has changed.

How many times are we going to compel women to re-open their wounds and bare their souls before the wilful ignorance is washed away? How many more women have to say “me too” before we address the festering misogyny that allows sexual violence to flourish?

Scotland is thankfully a very different country to America. The Scottish Government – and Nicola Sturgeon personally – have shown a willingness to confront the stain of sexual violence and its far-reaching consequences.

The First Minister’s Advisory Council on Women and Girls was set up to utilise the voices of experts to steer our country into a safer, fairer place for all women. That work is critically important. For while we may not have faux trials of women recounting their stories live-streamed to millions, we have many women like Dr Ford, who feel as though the deck of societal opinion and access to justice is stacked against them.

Women are tired. We’re angry. We want change. We can’t go on like this.

Rape Crisis Scotland helpline: phone free any day between 6pm and midnight on 08088 01 03 02 or if you are deaf or hard of hearing on minicom number 0141 353 3091