Reclaiming The Narrative – Childhood Sexual Abuse, Media Responsibility, And Survivor Agency

Childhood sexual abuse remains one of the most under-acknowledged forms of trauma in society. It often occurs in silence, is carried in private, and continues to shape lives long after childhood has ended. For Deborah Knight, Chief Executive Officer of Quetzal, the starting point is clear: no one should suffer for life because of abuse they experienced as a child.

Quetzal works with survivors of childhood sexual abuse on an individual basis. The impact of abuse is not uniform. Some survivors live with persistent anxiety. Others struggle with trust, relationships, or long-term mental health difficulties. Many carry an enduring sense of shame or self-blame. Children frequently internalise responsibility for what was done to them, particularly when the perpetrator was a trusted adult. That misplaced blame can remain embedded for decades, reinforced by cultural messaging and silence.

A persistent misconception is that childhood sexual abuse is rare. Reliable statistics are difficult to establish because it is significantly under-reported, yet prevalence estimates suggest that a substantial proportion of the population has experienced it. This means that in any community, workplace, or family network, survivors are likely to be present. The invisibility of that reality contributes to isolation. Many women who approach Quetzal have never spoken about their experiences, even to those closest to them.

Public discussion of sexual violence has increased in recent years. Greater visibility can help challenge the idea that abuse is uncommon or that survivors are alone. However, media coverage often continues to centre perpetrators, reputations, or sensational detail. When abuse is framed as an individual scandal, the broader cultural and structural conditions that enable violence are obscured. Survivors may also find continuous coverage re-traumatising. Casual commentary, jokes, or speculation in public discourse can deepen feelings of shame and disbelief.

There is also a risk that cases are selected and amplified in ways that support pre-existing political narratives. Sensational stories about stranger violence can dominate attention, even though most abuse is perpetrated by someone known and trusted. When experiences are used to advance unrelated agendas, survivors can feel that their stories have been taken from them once again. Trauma frequently involves a profound loss of control. Removing agency over how a story is told can repeat that harm.

A more responsible approach requires centring survivors, using precise and respectful language, and acknowledging wider patterns rather than isolating incidents. Collaboration with specialist organisations embedded within communities can help ensure that cultural sensitivities are understood and that consent and safety are prioritised. Control over narrative should rest with those who lived the experience.

The scale of need remains striking. Demand for specialist support continues, despite limited public awareness of its extent. Yet alongside that reality is evidence of resilience. Survivors demonstrate capacity for growth, change, and fulfilment, even while managing complex and intersecting challenges. Recovery is neither simple nor linear, but it is possible.

At its core, this work rests on a straightforward principle: survivors are not stories to be consumed or instruments for attention. They are people with lives, relationships, and futures. Any public conversation about childhood sexual abuse must begin, and end, with that recognition.