From Childhood Trauma to Prison: A Survivor's Journey
My early years in rural Lancashire were filled with magical Christmases, family laughter, and the security of our secluded home. My parents created wonderful adventures for my siblings and me - sleeping under Greek stars at four, annual Welsh cottage holidays, and a Greyhound bus tour across California and Nevada at eleven, culminating in meeting Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. To all outward appearances, I enjoyed an idyllic childhood.
The Easter Visitor Who Shattered My World
Adolescence brought a devastating change. Every Easter, a man celebrated for building faith-based orphanages abroad stayed with our family. When I was thirteen, in March 1983, he entered my bedroom, placed a knife by my pillow to ensure my silence, and violently raped me. I told no one. The following Easter, he returned and the abuse continued for four agonising years.
During those years, I became a ghost inhabiting a body I despised. I smiled when necessary and disappeared whenever possible. By seventeen, I no longer cared if he killed me - I had lost all desire to live. The day before his return to Kenya, I confronted him in our kitchen with our bread knife pressed against his neck, warning him never to touch me again.
The Aftermath and Family Revelation
For five years following that confrontation, I finally felt safe. I completed my education at the University of North London (now Metropolitan University). However, in 1991, learning he had returned permanently from Kenya, I feared for my ten-year-old brother's safety and made the terrifying decision to tell my parents.
As the words "he raped me" left my mouth, I watched part of my parents die before my eyes. Their immediate guilt was overwhelming, though they couldn't have known. They wanted to report it immediately, but a police family friend advised against it, citing the perpetrator's respected church position and my lack of forensic evidence.
The Downward Spiral
We reported him to his employers, who did nothing. Shockingly, we found no support organisations for male rape survivors in the UK at that time. This lack of support contributed to my descent into an abusive relationship where I became someone's punching bag.
Moving to Thailand in 1998 brought geographical distance but no peace. In 2002, my father called to say my rapist had died. Instead of relief, I felt robbed of justice and completely unravelled. I became addicted to methamphetamine and was eventually arrested for drug offences in Northern Thailand.
Prison and Unexpected Redemption
Incarceration meant cold turkey withdrawal in a concrete box with no medical support - just pain, sweat, and my own screaming. Three weeks into withdrawal, my father visited. Stepping over a recently deceased inmate to enter the visit room, I feared my father's disgust. Instead, he showed only kindness and compassion.
When our visit ended, I punched the Perspex divider, screaming: "Please don't forget about me, Dad!" He didn't. My amazing father launched an awareness campaign, giving newspaper interviews and asking people to write to me. Hundreds of letters arrived from strangers worldwide, all carrying the same message: you are not forgotten.
Finding Specialised Support
After early release from prison, I remained trapped by my past. In 2017, thirty-five years after the initial abuse, I contacted We Are Survivors - the UK's largest male-specific support service for sexual harm survivors. Through peer support groups, creative activities like storytelling and art, and one-to-one therapy, they helped me rebuild my life.
Connecting with other male survivors showed me how others navigated trauma, while creative spaces revealed my writing talent and renewed ambition. Over six years of their groundbreaking, survivor-led support, I learned to feel, laugh, trust, live, and find joy again.
Coming Full Circle
Today, I work at We Are Survivors, helping other men break free from silence and shame to find joy, purpose, and safety. According to November 2025 ONS data, 10% of recorded rapes are against males, with boys aged 10-14 comprising 27% of male sexual assault victims.
While specialised support for men has improved in England and Wales since my assault, it remains woefully inadequate and underfunded. Support for survivors saves lives - it certainly saved mine. My story represents just one of many that need to be heard and supported properly.
