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.

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

My journey toward hope and empowerment began when fate brought me into contact with an extraordinary journalist. This encounter was somewhat serendipitous, taking place on a September afternoon in 2019, nearly two and a half years after I reported being raped. While cleaning the windows of my flat and tuning into BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour, I stumbled upon an interview featuring Claire Waxman, the Victim's Commissioner for London.

In the labyrinthine UK justice system, some legal defences are so unusual that they seem almost surreal. “Sexsomnia” -  a rare sleep disorder that allegedly causes people to engage in sexual acts while unconscious - is one of them.

Once confined to obscure medical journals, sexsomnia has entered both criminal and family courts with alarming frequency.

Sex after rape is one of the most complex and deeply personal journeys a survivor can face. It’s not just about physical intimacy - it’s about reclaiming a sense of control, safety, and self-worth in a body that may feel like it has been taken away. For those in long-term relationships, this journey involves personal healing and shared understanding with a partner. For those dating after experiencing trauma, it adds a new layer of vulnerability and navigation.