Silence was no longer possible. Not after what she endured. Not after what the work did to me.
I have spent years in human rights, with a focus on gender-based violence. It’s not work you leave at the office. You take it home. You absorb it. And eventually, if you’re not careful, it rewires you.
The case that changed me came through a community health centre. A 14-year-old girl. Pregnant. The father of her child was her father. Her mother refused to believe her and called her seductive.
At our third session, she said, “I just left my body. I stopped being a girl. I became nothing.”
I documented her story. I followed protocol. I ensured psychological support. But her words stayed. They followed me into sleep, into silence, into everyday tasks. I began to lose focus. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t concentrate. I thought I was tired.
I wasn’t tired. I was drowning.
While preparing her legal referral, I read her handwritten statement. One line stayed with me: “I used to pretend I was asleep. It made it hurt less.”
That sentence broke me. I rushed to the bathroom. I sobbed. Uncontrollably.
That night, I admitted I was not okay. I told a colleague the truth. That the trauma had entered my body and stayed. She responded: Your mental health matters too.
The next morning, I handed over the case. It felt like failure. But I had nothing left to give.
In the following weeks, I began therapy. I stopped performing strength. I wrote. I slept. I asked for help. I accepted that this work can devour you if you let it.
When I returned, I changed the structure of how we worked. Wellness check-ins. Debrief sessions. Clear boundaries. Space to feel. I implemented what didn’t exist before protection for those doing the protecting.
Then I went online.
The shift into the digital space
The digital space became my tool for visibility. I started telling the stories no one wanted to face; stories about incest, rape, child abuse, and the emotional collapse of frontline responders.
I used my platforms to dismantle myths and spread survivor-centered knowledge. I didn’t post for attention. I posted to educate. I posted to breathe.
My digital campaigns created new conversations. Not abstract discussions, but real connections: survivors reaching out, advocates finding language for their fatigue, social workers admitting they needed rest.
I used social media threads, blog posts, and targeted campaigns to explain what trauma does to a girl, to her advocate, to systems that pretend everything is under control.
The online space made it possible to build what physical rooms often refused to host: truth.
Technology gave the work scale. I wasn’t limited to private sessions or closed-door meetings. I could inform and challenge a wider public. I could speak directly to bystanders, professionals, and survivors.
I posted resources. I created a shareable language. I highlighted how untreated trauma among GBV responders leads to poor outcomes for survivors.
The internet is a tool. I used it with intention.
For advocates on the frontlines
If you’re in this work and you’re unraveling, stop pretending. Take the break. Ask for help. Collapse is not failure. Silence about your pain does not make you stronger. The people we serve deserve truth. That truth includes what this work does to us.
To the girl who changed me
I don’t know where she is today. I hope she is safe. I hope someone listens to her now. I hope she laughs again.
She may never know what she gave me. But because of her, I will never again stay silent about what this work costs.
What comes next
This article is a documentation. I will keep using the digital space to speak, to connect, to pressure systems that fail survivors and those who serve them.
Justice does not stop at policy. It must reach the bodies that carry its weight.
This story is educative. Thanks to the author for sharing this . Her work will never go unnoticed.
This is both heartbreaking and traumatic. Your courage is sharing this story is truly inspiring.
As advocates, we face such traumatic stories daily, from harrowing calls, to unimaginable personal accounts. Self care is no longer a luxury but a necessity
To survivors out there, I salute your strength and I say – keep rising above the pain, the stigma and the shame. Your determination to live above the horrible experience, to heal and help others is commendable.
Thank you Atinuke for being such a beacon of hope.
This is a great article, dear.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts and bringing attention this important issue in our society.
looking forward to read more of your publications.
when you see something..say something…I will never be silent anymore.
Thank you
Thank you Atinuke for amplifying the critical role of online platforms in supporting and advocating for victims of gender-based violence (GBV). Your revelations attest to our field experiences as practitioners in this space.
The timely and insightful piece makes a significant contribution to the ongoing discourse surrounding digital interventions in social justice. Atinuke demonstrates a profound understanding of the complexities inherent in GBV, coupled with an innovative perspective on leveraging online spaces for meaningful impact. The article meticulously outlines the various ways in which digital platforms can serve as vital conduits for providing essential services, fostering community, and amplifying the voices of survivors.One of the article’s most commendable strengths lies in its comprehensive analysis of the benefits and challenges associated with online advocacy and support. Atinuke thoughtfully addresses issues such as privacy concerns, digital literacy disparities, and the potential for online harassment, while simultaneously highlighting the unparalleled reach, accessibility, and anonymity that online platforms can offer to victims who might otherwise remain isolated. The inclusion of practical strategies for mitigating risks and maximizing positive outcomes is particularly valuable for practitioners and policymakers alike.Furthermore, the article’s emphasis on the intersectionality of experiences within GBV is particularly impactful.
Atinuke skillfully navigates the diverse needs of various victim populations, acknowledging how factors such as socioeconomic status, geographical location, and technological access can influence the effectiveness of online interventions. This nuanced approach underscores the importance of tailored strategies and inclusive design in digital support initiatives. In conclusion, this piece is an exceptionally well-documented, compelling, and highly relevant publication. Atinuke’s dedication to this critical issue is evident throughout the article, which serves as a vital resource for anyone involved in GBV prevention, intervention, and advocacy. I highly recommend this article to researchers, practitioners, policymakers, and anyone seeking to understand or contribute to the evolving landscape of online support for victims of gender-based violence. It is a testament to Atinuke’s expertise and commitment to social change.
Very insightful story. Thanks for sharing.
This is educative … Nice one to the Author 💯💯
Wow what a story. Thank you for sharing. There is truly no excise for Gender Based Violence. There is a lot of work to be done by the society particularly the government.
Keep spreading the message.
Such a touching story. Thanks for sharing. Compassion fatigue, secondary trauma, and burnout are real — and without systems of care in place, even the strongest among us can collapse under the weight.
This story is a poignant reminder of the profound impact that working with trauma can have on individuals, particularly those in advocacy and support roles. Atinuke’s raw and honest account of their emotional journey serves as a powerful testament to the importance of prioritizing self-care and seeking help when needed.