A MYH x Journal submission - an Australian experience of process over protection, and harm that continued beyond the court.

This submission examines how decisions made by police, prosecutors, and the courts prioritised procedure over safety, allowing harm to continue long after sentencing.

We live in a culture that rewards constant availability. Being busy. Being responsive. Being visible. Being “on”.

For those of us who have had to fight to be heard, saying yes can feel necessary. If the opportunity is there, we take it. If the journalist reaches out, we respond. If the invite lands, we accept - even when our bodies are already asking us to slow down.

Because what if it doesn’t come back?

This feature documents a survivor’s experience of childhood sexual abuse and the wider pattern of harm surrounding it. Rather than focusing on one act of violence, it examines grooming, community complicity, and the cultural mechanisms that protect abusers. Shared as part of Make Yourself Heard, this testimony aims to raise awareness, support survivors, and challenge the systems that enable abuse to persist.

Five years ago, as I moved into 2021, I wrote this without knowing how long the road ahead would be. I knew I was angry. I knew I wanted change. I knew silence wasn’t an option anymore.

The rape happened in 2017. But 2020 was the worst year of my life.

Launched in 2025, Making Yourself Heard began as a space - not a statement - shaped by listening, care, and lived experience. This feature reflects on the platform’s first months, the trust placed in it through shared stories, and the emergence of Right to Be Reviewed as its first campaign. It looks ahead to what comes next: sustained listening, survivor-led change, and a commitment to justice that values process as much as outcome.

As we head into 2026... I should be celebrating another year of freedom from horrific sexual abuse, voyeurism, and control, but instead I’m still waiting anxiously to discover if my abuser has been successful in  his appeal to reduce his sentence of 12 years (+3 on licence)

This is his fifth appeal attempt in the three years he’s been behind bars following seven guilty verdicts that include rape, voyeurism, control, and coercion, amongst others.

I haven’t slept properly since the Government mentioned abolishing jury trials for some offences. This is not because juries are perfect – they’re not- but because they’re the only form of oversight within the justice system.  When I first started speaking out about the judges’ lack of accountability a couple of years ago, I did so because of something my family lived through and something that opened my eyes to a problem I never knew existed. Most of the public don’t know about this either.

In communities across the UK, so many women carry the quiet, often invisible weight of sexual violence and abuse. It is a weight that can reshape lives, identities, and futures. Yet amid these difficult realities, projects like Conforto are creating tailored spaces where survivors can process, share, and rebuild their lives.

A survivor’s open letter urging government not to use court delays to justify removing the right to a jury

By Vicki

As debate grows around limiting jury trials, Vicki offers a vital perspective from lived experience. Her open letter sets out clearly why her case must not be used to justify removing the right to be tried by a jury.

The recent debate on restricting jury trials has focused on so-called “lower level” offences to allegedly relieve the waiting times for the more serious crimes. But that’s not where the real crisis sits. The greatest inconsistency - the greatest injustice - occurs in rape and sexual violence cases, where juries are asked to evaluate crimes, that they fundamentally do not understand.

Rochelle Marashi traces the evolution of Metacog - the platform she launched during her training to make psychological ideas more accessible - and how it grew into a space for exploring the hidden dynamics of coercive control and stalking.

Through clinical insight, research, and advocacy, she sheds light on why these behaviours remain so poorly recognised within therapy and wider systems, and how greater visibility, accurate language, and practitioner training can protect survivors and reshape responses.

There’s no guidebook, just grit - from late nights and silence to small sparks of hope that keep it moving.

As I sit near the one-month mark before the CPS Victims’ Right to Review pilot finishes, I’ve been reflecting on what it’s really like to try to launch a campaign - one rooted in personal experience, justice, and years of pushing for change.

There’s no guidebook for this kind of work. Just like the justice system itself, you’re winging it - driven by passion, by anger, by hope.

20th October 2020.
The day my life turned upside down.

I remember sitting in a meeting room at the police station, waiting for an update I had been anticipating for years. After nearly three and a half years of waiting, I thought I was finally about to go to court. Instead, I heard a word I had never come across before: sexsomnia.

That was the first time I heard it - in that room, from the Crown Prosecution Service.

An anonymous submission from a rape survivor, shared with M.Y.H

When people talk about recovery after sexual violence, they usually focus on therapy, justice, or the long road back to “normal”. What rarely gets spoken about is the messier part - the nights you can’t sleep, the panic that doesn’t end, and the substances that slowly take over as the only thing that seems to make it stop.

This is about that part. The quiet, secret, often-hidden part of trauma that plays out behind closed doors

On 1 October, BBC Panorama aired a devastating investigation into the Metropolitan Police. For seven months, an undercover reporter worked inside Charing Cross police station in central London, capturing on camera what many survivors, campaigners, and community advocates have long suspected: misogyny, racism, and abuse of power are not relics of the past - they remain deeply embedded in parts of Britain’s largest police force.

I’ve been putting off launching Make Yourself Heard (M.Y.H) for a long time. The idea has been with me for years - scribbled in notebooks, swirling in late-night thoughts, appearing in conversations with friends - but I hesitated. It wasn’t because I doubted the need. Quite the opposite: I knew how vital it was for survivors to have spaces that belong to us, not just about us. What held me back was fear. Fear of stepping into a role I didn’t feel qualified for. Fear of being judged. Fear that people would look at me and wonder: Who is she to start something like this?

That’s the grip of imposter syndrome. It tells you to shrink when you want to stand tall.

These documentaries are hard-hitting and at times very heavy, but they shine an important light on the realities too often left unspoken. They tell the stories of survivors and their families - stories of pain, courage, and resilience - and expose the barriers that still stand in the way of justice.

Please watch with care. You don't need to watch a full documentary in one sitting - take your time, pause when needed, and return when you feel ready.

This submission shook me.

A woman reached out to Make Yourself Heard and described an experience that no one should ever have to endure. She was pregnant when her ex-partner attacked her. During the same violent incident, he beat and strangled his own 18-month-old son. The assault was recorded on her home security system. There is footage. He pleaded guilty.

And yet, today, he is seeking custody of the son, whom he strangled. And of the baby she was still carrying when he attacked her.

The joy I should be feeling, loving my life and cherishing my family, all turns to horror scenarios flashing through my nightmares when a letter from the Witness Care team lands on my hall floor…repeatedly in the three years since my abuser has been in prison, this has been the case.

I didn’t set out to be a victim of domestic abuse; I didn’t intend to be a prisoner and not a partner for ten terror-filled years, but the shackles of control and coercion sneak slowly around your life until, before you know it, you're contemplating death as your only means of escape.

Take the Stand – Reclaiming the Right to Be Heard
In conversation with the creators of the Take the Stand podcast.

We sat down with the creators behind Take the Stand to hear more about where it started, why it matters, and what they’ve learned in the process.