1. At Ulster University (Coleraine campus) in the 1970s, when the gang stalking started, simultaneous with an English policeman taking an unjustified interest, strange men started hanging about my out of the way cottage at the outskirts of Portrush. The single lady next door sold up and went back to England. The elderly man on the other side who had lived there all his life without any problem got a guard dog.
2. When I worked as a volunteer for a phone-in charity, while on overnight duty, I was “jumped” by a fellow volunteer. It was only luck that I did not become pregnant.
3. Inexplicable hostility from Muslim students when I lived in International House Birmingham in the 1980s. My boyfriend at that time told me, in an agitated state – stay away from Muslim men, they kidnap women.
4. On a course for Teaching English as a Second Language, the Muslim men were inexplicably hostile. A course tutor, on friendly terms with the men passed a comment about “whores deserved all they got”.
5. When I lived in Bradford, the normal tenants beneath moved out and were replaced by men who raped a local girl.
6. At the same address, which was at the end of a hard to notice cul-de-sac, I was followed by a man to my door. I only found out he was immediately behind me when one of the other tenants answered my doorbell, then he ran away.
7. At another address in Bradford when I was in the house on my own two men tried to break in. As they were trying to break in the back I shot out the front door and went to a neighbours house and asked them to call the police. The police came immediately, sirens and all, and the men ran off.
Later they came back, late in the evening and I heard them discussing breaking in. One persuaded the other not to.
8. At my first address in a London which I shared with my husband, normal tenants moved out and prostitutes moved in. This of course acts as a magnet for all the perverts in the area. Who might suppose all the women in the house are prostitutes.
9. At a later address in London where I lived with my husband, again the normal tenants moved out and prostitutes moved in.
10. When my husband and I moved to Harrogate we had a normal life until he died of cancer last year. Then I moved to my present address. Women dressed very obviously as prostitutes started to hang around in the next street. They looked really out of place. This is a quiet, affluent rural town, mainly professional and elderly. As I in no way, dress or behave like a prostitute, this was short-lived. Instead when I go out now I am surrounded by people who look like gypsies.
Of course, all the above could all be coincidental. But put this against my background. I was raised in the countryside, so, as is standard for rural folk, I have always dressed practically, not like a tart, which is the urban norm. In addition the dress code for Northern Irish females, is androgynous, indistinguishable from males, the result of guaranteed male persecution of any female who is identifiable as female. Also, I am not pretty.
Then again I am a quiet, non-social very private person. I mainly like reading books. I am totally risk-averse. After my first completely unpleasant experience of dating, aged 16, I decided I could do without the horrible experience and for personal safety reasons I have always avoided public areas where men hang out with the main purpose of latching on to women.
None of the places where I chose to live were in risky areas. They tended to be in rather secluded areas which were difficult to find unless you were specifically looking for them.
Also my mother gave me rather good advice when I was young. She said, it is not enough for a woman to avoid doing anything wrong. She must also never act so that anyone putting an unfavourable interpretation on her act, could make out she was doing something wrong. I have always lived by this principle – avoiding ambiguous situations and avoiding ambiguous behaviour and appearance. To the extent that when I worked in an all-male office, one of the more opportunist males complained to everyone who would listen, that I never smiled. I had figured out young that men could reinterpret a woman’s simple courtesy and friendliness as sexual interest, and some would use that to further their sexual opportunism. It was nice that some of the other men knowing this man for an opportunist, spoke up to support my position.
So, yes, all the above could be coincidental. That men walked out of their way to hang around my remote cottage. That Muslim men I had never spoken to had somehow arrived at the notion that I was a prostitute. That living in a hard to find cul-de-sac, normal neighbours move out and rapists move in, and I am followed. And strange men also attempt to break in at another address. And normal tenants move out of two houses my husband and I lived in in London and prostitutes moved in. That women dressed like prostitutes hang around in the next street where I live in Harrogate.
Except, the slander that a woman is a prostitute, and seventy percent of gang stalking targets are women, is standard gang stalking procedure. It is also standard procedure for pimps and sex traffickers to spread lies about women they plan to trap into prostitution, and arrange for them to be raped.
As my gang stalking appears to have started with unwarranted police interest, what is the connection between the police, gang stalking, pimps and sexual trafficking?