A study published in the Australian and New Zealand Journal of Public Health last month found strong links between women's experience of sexual violence and poor mental health.
This is hardly new or surprising information, but what was interesting was the effect was present for the entire continuum of sexual violence. Being flashed, grabbed or harassed were the most common experiences and were also associated with increased depression and anxiety.
The report concluded that doctors "should consider an experience of sexual violence as a possible factor in otherwise unexplained anxiety and depressive symptoms in female patients".
Good advice, but perhaps it's more than just doctors who need to consider this.
The report on sexual assault in universities released Tuesday also showed that about half the students at Australian universities have experienced some form of sexual harassment.
While we expect women who have been victims of rape to suffer serious emotional and physiological injuries, the regular experience of what might sound like a minor incident is all too often met with the question "so nothing actually happened then?".
Anyone who asks that question, or even thinks it, doesn't understand the threat inherent in every manifestation of sexual violence.
Just recently, a woman I know was left alone in her workplace with a man she'd never met before. Almost immediately he was standing too close to her, asking questions about her life, talking about things he'd seen on her Facebook page, whether she was a feminist.
If you think this sounds innocuous, you're wrong. It wasn't. She was terrified.
He might have just been a slightly socially awkward guy trying to make conversation. Or he could have been a stalker with violent tendencies. There's really no way to tell the difference between them until it's too late, so as soon as she was put in that position, she had to start calculating the arithmetic of violence.
What is he really trying to do here? Do I smile and placate him, or will that add up to an invitation in his mind? Will it make me look weak? Will that encourage him or pacify him? If I go strong and demand he leaves, will that enrage him or deter him? What can I do that won't make him angry? What do I do if he does get angry? If I run will he chase me? Where do I go? How far is safety? What can I use to defend myself? Who can hear me if I scream? How will he react if I pick up my phone and text someone? What if I'm wrong and he tells everyone I'm freaky and paranoid? What if I'm right and he hurts me? If he tries to hurt me do I let him so he doesn't hurt me even more? How dare he make me feel like this, how angry will he get if he sees my anger?
This particular woman in this particular situation managed to make an excuse to leave the room, run to the next building and find a (male) colleague who had no difficulty throwing him out, and no fear at all of leaving work alone later that night.
Male friends of hers who knew the man told her afterwards that she had nothing to fear. "He's an idiot, but he's not a threat," they said with kindly reassuring smiles.
How do they know this? From their vast experience of being a physically small woman alone in a room with a him? From their deep understanding of the way threatening men behave towards women when no other men are around?
And here's where we get to the #NotAllMen fallacy. Because, of course, not all men are dangerous. But some men definitely are, and they look exactly like the men who aren't.
So what are women to do in that situation? If we assume he's not a threat and we're wrong, the consequences could be catastrophic. If we assume he is a threat and we're wrong, the consequences could be that we got away from a creepy conversation and the man in question is left a bit confused by our sudden departure.
I know which one I'd choose.
The continuum of sexual violence, which starts with so called "jokes", escalates through cat calling, stalking, grabbing, assault, and finishes with rape and murder.
Almost all women (nine out of 10 women in Australia) have experienced street harassment and many of them recognise it as an expression of power and entitlement.
Some women may well have the strength and confidence to shake it off, think of it as nothing more than a problem in the men who do it, not a problem for the women who are the targets of it.
But far too many women know the deeper reality of male violence. Millions of Australian women have been subjected to physical or sexual violence at some point in their lives. And all women who have been lucky enough to escape it themselves know women who haven't.
Almost all this violence was committed by men.
So it's not surprising that the implicit threat in any form of harassment is experienced by many women as the full threat. Nor is it surprising that this leads to depression and anxiety, as highlighted in the Journal of Public Health report.
Not every woman in our village has been tortured, but we all know at least one woman who has. It may not be all men, but it's difficult for all women to remain unafraid.
This story was written by Jane Gilmore under the title of 'How sexual violence harms all women, including non-victims' and has been copied from here.