Finding My Voice Through Pageantry: My Journey to Miss Great Britain
I am absolutely thrilled to announce that for the third consecutive year, I will be taking part in the 81st Miss Great Britain pageant.
Modern-day pageantry has evolved in the most incredible way. It is no longer just about appearance; it is about impact, purpose, and inclusivity. Women of all ages can now compete and, more importantly, use their voices to raise awareness about issues that matter to them.
Miss Great Britain’s powerful mantra, “Impact over Image,” perfectly captures why I continue to compete. Over the past three years, pageantry has given me something I never truly had before: the confidence to speak my truth.
But my story began long before pageantry entered my life.
A Childhood That Looked Perfect
I was born in Manchester in 1979, into what many would have considered a stable and comfortable family.
We lived in a mortgage-free home in a fashionable part of South Manchester. My father had just completed 22 years in the Royal Navy and was studying nuclear engineering at Manchester University, with plans to relocate our family to West Cumbria so he could work at Sellafield. My mother came from a naval family as well and had spent much of her childhood travelling the world while her father served as a Royal Navy captain.
From the outside, everything appeared ideal.
What no one could see was that my mother was quietly struggling and had begun self-medicating with alcohol, something I would not fully understand until decades later.
My Brother Ian
In 1980, my younger brother Ian was born. We were just 17 months apart and incredibly close.
Soon after his birth, Ian was diagnosed with Tetralogy of Fallot, a rare and serious heart condition. He needed major surgery before the age of 18 months.
Tragically, he never got the chance.
At 17 months old, while preparing for surgery, Ian suffered a severe reaction to the polio vaccination. He slipped into a coma and survived, but with severe cerebral palsy, requiring constant care.
Our family life changed overnight.
Instead of receiving the support you might expect during such a crisis, social services began pressuring my parents to place Ian into the care system. My parents refused.
To give them space to cope with Ian’s medical needs, I was sent to stay with my maternal grandparents in Portsmouth. What was meant to be temporary lasted nearly a year.
Family Tragedy
When I eventually returned home, life was far from stable.
Ian’s health remained fragile, and he spent long periods in hospital. My mother struggled more and more with alcohol, something I didn’t understand as a child but sensed through the tension and arguments at home.
Eventually, social services increased their pressure for one of us children to be removed from the family.
I was once again sent to stay with my grandparents in Portsmouth.
During that time, our family suffered devastating losses. My grandfather had a stroke and soon passed away. Shortly afterwards, my uncle was killed in a road traffic accident, leaving my aunt to cope with grief while caring for two young children.
The support network my parents had relied upon fell apart.
My parents eventually moved to Portsmouth as well, but tensions within the family meant they were asked to leave the house, and I remained living with my grandparents.
To the outside world, my life seemed comfortable. I attended a private girls’ school, and my grandmother adored me. My father visited every day after school while trying to care for my brother and support my mother.
But behind that image was a secret I carried alone.
The Secret I Carried
As a child, I believed I was on a mission to help keep my brother alive.
This was the manipulation used by my grandfather to justify the abuse he and others inflicted on me.
He convinced me that if I didn’t do what he asked, my brother would die. Sometimes he told me that I would be taken away and it would all be my fault.
I was terrified, and I loved my brother deeply. That fear kept me silent for years.
Could This Have Been Prevented?
Looking back as an adult, the answer is yes.
My childhood living arrangement would now be classified as kinship care—a situation where a child is raised by relatives rather than in foster care.
Today, as someone who has spent 10 years as a foster carer, I see the enormous difference in safeguarding.
Foster carers undergo extensive background checks, regular home inspections, and constant involvement from social workers to ensure children are safe and supported.
Kinship care, however, has historically lacked the same level of oversight. Even today, local authorities are not always legally required to allocate social workers or carry out the same level of checks.
This gap in safeguarding can leave vulnerable children at risk in what should be the safest place of all: their own family homes.
It is an issue that deserves far more attention.
A Life Searching for Direction
My brother Ian passed away in 1996, and with his death I felt as though a part of me disappeared too.
For years I struggled to find stability. I moved between jobs, relationships, and lifestyles, often trying to numb the pain of my childhood. I searched constantly for something that would give me a sense of security and belonging.
Deep down, I believed I had no real worth.
The Turning Point
Everything began to change after I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Thankfully, I am now seven years cancer-free, but the experience forced me to confront my life in ways I never had before.
During my treatment, I saw a campaign encouraging survivors of historic abuse to share their stories. While that was powerful, I felt compelled to do something more.
I was already fostering children and knew how important safe environments are for vulnerable young people. I wanted to raise awareness about the lack of safeguarding within some kinship care arrangements.
What I needed was a platform.
That’s when I discovered pageantry.
Pageantry With Purpose
Pageantry often gets misunderstood, but the reality is that it has evolved into something incredibly empowering.
It welcomes women of all ages and backgrounds, giving them a platform to champion causes that matter to them.
For me, competing in Miss Great Britain has been transformative. Over the past three years, it has helped rebuild my confidence and allowed me to speak openly about experiences I carried silently for decades.
It also led to something deeply personal: reconnecting with my mother after years of estrangement.
Healing and Forgiveness
Ten months ago, I told my mother everything about the abuse I experienced as a child.
In response, she shared something that changed my perspective forever.
She revealed that my grandfather had also sexually abused her and my aunt. When my brother became seriously ill, he manipulated her into allowing me to live with him, threatening that she would lose both her children to social services if she refused.
For years I had blamed my mother, but in that moment I saw the truth: she had been a victim too.
She helped me report the historic abuse to the police.
Six weeks ago, my mother passed away. Before she died, she gave me something I had carried for a lifetime: closure.
And I forgive her.
My Purpose Now
Today, my journey has led me to advocate for change.
I am currently working with my local MP, Damian Hinds, who is sharing my story as part of discussions around proposed reforms to Kinship Care Law between 2024 and 2026.
My goal is simple:
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Raise awareness about safeguarding gaps in kinship care
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Encourage more people to become foster carers
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Help ensure vulnerable children grow up in safe, supported environments
A Tribute on International Women’s Day
On International Women’s Day, I want to honour my mum.
She struggled with her own trauma and challenges, but at the age of 83 she found the courage to help me report my abusers.
That took incredible strength.
And for that, I will always be grateful.
