I was born in the 1970s a time when sexual violence was only just becoming a public issue, however the birth of children born from rape and its impact on the children and their mothers was not spoken of. I can only speak of my lived experience, but I am aware many of your reading this may have experienced similar feelings.

I am adopted and when obtaining my social care files at 18, it was clear that a crime had been committed; the crime of rape against a child, that led to my conception and birth. It was shocking to read this, and I had a mixture of feelings. Absolute sympathy in relation to what my birth mother has experienced, coupled with my own feelings of shame, shock, lack of worth, anger and disgust. It made sense that I was adopted, but also fearful that my birth mother may not want to meet me if I managed to trace her. I was also worried that I may look like her rapist, my birth father. Where was my place in the world? I thought about what further ramifications this experience had on my birth mother. Was she even alive? To think the woman, child in my case, who gave birth to me was most likely disgusted by very existence, was heart breaking to have to think about.

There was no support for me in relation to being born from rape or for my birth mother. My adoptive parents didn’t discuss this with me either.  I know they had not been given guidance from professionals as to how to address this. There was no support for them in how to speak to me about my experience.

I was very fortunate to meet my birth mother around the age of 20 years old. I carried with me what I can only describe as a type of ‘survivor’s guilt’. I felt a responsibility in terms of being the living breathing embodiment of one of the very worst things to happen to someone, to be pregnant and carry a child conceived in violence and trauma. To give birth in shame.

I lacked a positive sense of identity prior to finding out about the rape and this was related to my feelings about my adoption. This knowledge increased my feelings of being rejected in the world, I felt on the margins of society, that I shouldn’t really be here. I also, for some time thought that there was an increased risk to me in terms of being raped. I don’t know where this thought came from, but it felt that would be a cruel irony, inevitable given my birth circumstance. My whole life had been dictated by the rapist choosing to violate a young teenager. I was angry and had feelings of loss and grief which I internalised, never spoke about. The feelings of injustice about what he did and what professionals did not do increased over the years.

My birth mother and I have never been able to establish an ongoing relationship. We are both living with the trauma of what the perpetrator did. He changed two lives irrevocably. I also wanted to know, and felt I had the right to know who he was.

I have struggled over the years in terms of my mental health – depression and anxiety. This increased after deciding to trace my birth father and pursue a prosecution against him. I wanted to find him.  I understand many people in the same position may not. Perhaps being an adoptee is part of the reason as to why I was so curious about him. It was a combination of wanting to meet him but also wanting him to face justice.  Having a therapist who provided a space for me to be vulnerable, and who understood trauma particularly in relation to sexual violence and could bear witness was essential.

In pursuing justice, it was very clear that people like me, born from rape, were invisible in terms of what we go through and the impact it has on us. “You’re not a victim” was the response from the criminal justice system, there were no services for people like me. When I looked for therapists, I noted that no one had in their profile, “works with people born from rape”. At times I would question, maybe it’s me, I’m making too much of it. Of course, this feeling did not last long. It is horrendous to know that you represent to many, something so gut-wrenchingly awful, that there is no one to speak about the impact it is having.  I often wondered if I had inherited ‘bad genes’.

Years on after my birth father was successfully prosecuted and after receiving therapy and changing the law to recognise children born from rape as victims, I have a strong sense of identity. As I read out in my victim statement in court “I am not your shame”. However, society, does seem to label us as such. The lack of conversation, understanding and the lack of community, speaks volumes about our value. It is time for this to change. With the implementation of Daisy’s Law – children born as a result of criminal conduct; we are entitled to support. The criminal justice system and support services all need to become aware of how we count both in law and in terms of addressing our needs, as there is currently nothing for us.

Now Visible wants to ensure that people born from rape have the opportunity to co-create, the type of support we know there needs to be. Together we can use our unique and long-ignored lived experience to inform systems and the individuals within them to finally recognise we do exist, to be born from rape is complex and to have services to address the complexities of this experience is essential.