I walked into a pub and came face to face with the person who raped me - a moment I’d feared for years, unsure whether it would undo the work it’s taken to get here. Remarkably, it didn’t break me.

This is a deeply personal account of what it means to seek justice - and what happens when the system cannot hold that weight. Georgie shares the reality of delay, trauma, and the lasting impact of being let down by the very process meant to protect.

Vicki shares a personal reflection shaped by lived experience of delay and systemic failure. What began as uncertainty around reform became a clearer understanding of what change could actually offer.

In Not the Perfect Victim, Anna Kahill reflects on how trauma, silence and a late autism diagnosis shaped her understanding of a rape that happened when she was nineteen. The piece challenges the narrow expectations placed on victims and the myth that there is such a thing as a “perfect victim.”

Reflections from a really special International Women’s Day weekend - from hosting our MYH x Victims’ Commissioner gathering to marching at Million Women Rise. A reminder of how powerful it is when people come together, share space, and make themselves heard.

This week has felt particularly meaningful for Make Yourself Heard. For the first time, a national feature has focused not only on my own experience, but on the campaign and the purpose behind Make Yourself Heard itself.

Thousands of trials pushed to 2028 and beyond. Rape cases listed years away.

As the debate focuses on jury trials and constitutional principle, the human cost of delay risks being sidelined. If reform doesn’t centre victims, it won’t fix what’s broken.

On the Construction Sport podcast, Jan speaks candidly about being assaulted at work, the isolation that followed, and why the construction industry must redefine safety to include dignity, accountability and protection from harm.

There is a growing recognition that lived experience matters. Survivors are invited into rooms that were once closed to them - police working groups, advisory panels, consultations, and roundtables. On paper, this looks like progress.

In practice, too often it isn’t.

When the Epstein files came out, people talked about them like they were a revelation. New details. New shock. New outrage. But if you’re someone who’s lived through abuse, it doesn’t feel new at all.

Women and girls have been saying what happened for years. They reported it. They spoke up. They tried to warn people. Most of the time, they weren’t believed, or they were quietly pushed aside.

Imposter syndrome is often treated as a private insecurity - something to overcome quietly before you show up publicly. But in advocacy, it isn’t a side issue. It’s part of the work.

It shows up not because you’re underqualified, but because the ground is unstable. Advocacy often asks people with lived experience to translate pain into policy language, to compress years of harm into a few minutes of “constructive contribution,” and to speak calmly about systems that failed them - repeatedly. That tension creates doubt.

Some weeks, the news doesn’t just inform us - it presses on us. Stories of sexual violence, abuse of power, institutional failure, and delayed accountability accumulate rather than pass. They arrive one after another, asking to be absorbed, processed, and responded to. This week felt like one of those moments where the pattern was impossible to ignore. Not because it was new, but because it was so recognisable.

Powerful men named. Survivors are still waiting. Systems speak carefully. Accountability deferred.

[Image Source: Not Your Polite Feminist]

A short journal reflection on the last few days - on conversations that felt thoughtful rather than performative, and on the small, practical changes that can quietly reshape how justice is experienced. Not a conclusion, but a moment worth noticing.

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.

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.