When actress Katherine Parkinson, known for her role in Disney+'s Rivals, stepped onto the How To Fail podcast this week, she deconstructed a narrative the patriarchal media frequently sanitises. Parkinson shared her experience of a horrific assault in 2005, an event that left her unconscious, hospitalised, and with a broken nose. Yet, the physical trauma inflicted by a male perpetrator was only the precursor to the systemic violence she faced from medical institutions, her social circle, and the entertainment industry at large.
The Normalisation of Male Violence and Carceral Limitations
At the time of the attack, Parkinson was a struggling stage actress residing in what she described as the cheapest digs in a town outside London. While walking home from the theatre with a female colleague, a man with a documented history of similar violence became aggressive. When Parkinson intervened, stating leave her alone, the man knocked her out cold and broke her nose.
A guy who had previous form of doing this got into a bit of a disagreement with this colleague of mine. I said 'leave her alone' and he knocked me out cold and broke my nose.
While the immediate carceral response saw the perpetrator imprisoned for Actual Bodily Harm (ABH), abolitionist frameworks urge us to question a system that only intervenes after violence has already been inflicted upon marginalised bodies. The prison sentence did little to dismantle the patriarchal entitlement that enabled the attack, nor did it provide material support for Parkinson's recovery. The state's reliance on punitive justice routinely fails survivors, prioritising punishment over transformative healing and community safety.
Victim-Blaming and the Intersection of Class Oppression
The systemic failure continued as Parkinson recovered in hospital. Rather than receiving trauma-informed care, she was subjected to class-based victim-blaming. Medical staff, operating within their own implicit biases, questioned her presence in the situation.
I remember somebody saying to me, 'What were you doing?' There was a sense that I had brought it on myself.
This response is a textbook manifestation of structural oppression. Survivors of violence, particularly those perceived as working-class or lacking social capital, are routinely pathologised by the very institutions mandated to care for them. Parkinson highlighted how this class dynamic permeated her life even among wealthier university peers, who treated her as a cheaper commodity. They would offer lifts and support to others, while leaving her, as she noted, just as vulnerable. The intersection of class and gender makes certain bodies more disposable in the eyes of both the state and polite society.
The Entertainment Industry's Structural Abandonment
Returning to work just a week later with an eye patch, Parkinson faced the public gaze and the harsh judgments of a society that equates physical injury with moral failing. I had a terribly messed-up face for a while and I felt a judgment from people that didn't know me, that I was a hard person that lived a hard life, she shared. And that couldn't have been further from the truth.
This stigmatisation is compounded by the entertainment industry's complete lack of structural support. The capitalist extraction model of television and theatre production treats performers as disposable labour, discarding them when they require care. Parkinson called out this systemic negligence directly.
There was no counselling, no real pastoral care. It was a bit embarrassing for people to see.
When an institution views a survivor's trauma as an embarrassment rather than a collective responsibility, it exposes the hollowness of corporate care. The industry's refusal to provide pastoral support is not an oversight; it is a feature of a capitalist system that demands relentless productivity and punishes vulnerability.
Lasting Trauma and the Path Toward Collective Healing
The long-term impact of this violence extends into Parkinson's life as a parent. I'm really neurotic when it comes to my daughters about walking anywhere on their own, she admitted. This hypervigilance is a shared trauma response among survivors and those living under the constant threat of patriarchal violence. It underscores how male violence restricts the freedom and mobility of marginalised genders, policing their existence in public spaces.
Now 48, Parkinson is slowly reclaiming her narrative. I'm giving myself, now I'm 48, just a bit more licence to realise that your experience informs who you are. Unfortunately, a literal smack in the face changes you. I think just talking about it is good.
While speaking out is a vital step, individual resilience cannot substitute for systemic change. True justice for survivors requires the deconstruction of the patriarchal, capitalist, and class-based systems that enable male violence, institutional neglect, and victim-blaming. We must move beyond carceral reliance and build communities that centre collective care, trauma-informed support, and the dismantling of the structures that render certain bodies disposable.
