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As a young girl, I dreamed of becoming an artist. Creativity and dance have always been integral to my life, and through dancing I was fortunate to travel the world, working as a showgirl and magician’s assistant in circuses across the UK, Malta and Japan. Those experiences introduced me to
For much of my life, I believed I had an idyllic childhood. I grew up the youngest of five children in a close-knit Midwestern family. Our summers were spent at the country club and on Lake Huron. I sang along to Donny Osmond songs, put on plays in the backyard,
When I was fifteen years old, I was sexually assaulted and then later raped by a twenty-one-year-old man I’d met at work experience. To begin with, I didn’t fully recognise the severity of what had happened to me. I knew things had gone too far, and boundaries had been crossed,
I was four years old when my life changed. For a long time, I didn’t have the words to explain what had happened to me. I only knew that something felt wrong, and that I had to stay quiet. So I did. I didn’t tell my family. I didn’t want
In 2019, a man raped me while I was volunteering in rural Tanzania. I had fundraised for months – cake sales, raffles, working two jobs – because this placement meant everything to me. It was my path to a career in international development; my dream. On my third night in
Simon’s Law UK is a campaign calling for reform of how the UK criminal justice system handles elderly sexual offenders who develop dementia or are deemed unfit to stand trial. The campaign was inspired by the experience of survivor Simon Byrne, whose abuser was diagnosed with dementia a couple of
I’m a survivor of childhood sexual assault. I’m also a woman who will not be remembered as someone who stayed quiet in the face of abuse. I remind myself of this every time the cost of speaking up alters my day to day. I saw something. I said something. I
For a long time, I thought surviving meant performing. From the outside, I looked capable. Reliable. The one who could cope. I kept busy, achieved things, stayed useful. But inside, I felt like an imposter. Every day was an act. I wore masks so well that eventually I forgot what
By Morrene Hauser It wasn’t until I was in my early 50s that I finally found the courage to face the years of abuse I suffered as a child. Throughout my childhood, I was physically, verbally and sexually abused by my mother and the various toxic men she brought into
