Bipolar Mum Journey

I think I’m too wild for this world of hypocrisy. I have strong opinions, and a lot of people don’t like that. Last night at the pub, a guy overheard my conversation and decided to tell me that I should be grateful to a certain person because of what he did for “those girls”. That set me off. Why the hell should I be grateful to a community that ostracised me for being gang raped by Iranians?

The only person I owe gratitude to is myself. I pulled myself out of trauma and hell. I pay my bills, I take care of my kids, and I shared my story all by myself. Nobody helped me.

I don’t have protection or an entourage. But I knew that if I didn’t speak up about my abusers, more women would be left feeling like they were alone, and I wanted them to know they weren’t.

I don’t sugarcoat things, and people don’t like that. I tell it exactly how it is, and I don’t care if it makes people uncomfortable. I recently moved out of Chalkhill Estate in northwest London, but most of my friends and connections are still in London. And guess what? The majority of them aren’t white.

The only friends who never judged me are these people. Why? Because they know what it’s like to be judged.

I don’t fit the stereotype of the “poor, working-class white girl” victim. You know why? Because I’ve been to prison and my parents were a menace to society. That’s why I don’t fit the mold when it comes to speaking out.

I don’t want to be labeled as just a grooming gang survivor. My name is Gemma. I’ve done a lot in my life, some good, some bad however, if I had to choose between being seen as a villain or a victim, I’d rather be the villain.

People might see me having a heated debate last night as antisocial behavior, but please tell me, how would you react if, at 17, a jury of 12 called you a liar and your own community turned against you, because your abusers were brown? It messes with your mind. It destroys your trust in society. The only person you end up trusting is yourself. Only to have random men tell me who I should and shouldn’t be grateful to.

So forgive me if I refuse to kiss anyone’s arse.