At six years old, my world was a kaleidoscope of colours, shapes, and sounds. Amid this vibrant chaos, one question emerged from the depths of my curiosity: “Did God rape Mary?” This question, both innocent and profound, intertwined the biblical narrative with the complex history of women, power, and choice. The angel Gabriel’s proclamation to Mary, as recounted in the Gospel of Luke, was not a gentle request; it was an announcement of divine intention—a moment where Mary’s body and future were claimed without her consent. This moment, much like my grandmother’s life story, embodies the theme of unchosen roles that resonates deeply within the Let’s Talk About Rape® project.

The stories my grandmother, babcia Jadzia, told me painted a portrait of resilience etched with sorrow. Born from circumstances beyond her mother’s control, she became a symbol of survival in a world that often stripped women of agency. When my grandmother explained her origins, she did use the word “rape,” but she didn’t frame it solely as a sexual act. Instead, she spoke in hushed tones, weaving the tale of her conception—a tragic blend of history and power, where a man named Karl Uhl made decisions that altered the course of her life. This narrative is not just a family secret; it is emblematic of countless women’s experiences throughout history—stories that often remain in the shadows, unheard and unacknowledged. The echoes of that moment reached me as a child, filling me with an unsettling understanding of what it meant to be born into a world that didn’t choose you.

In that innocent moment of questioning, I began to form a connection between my grandmother’s story and the biblical tale of Mary. While not all women who experience rape become pregnant, many share profound experiences of powerlessness, thrust into roles they hadn’t chosen. It wasn’t simply the physical act of violation that haunted me; it was the underlying dynamics of ownership and control that shaped their lives. Transgenerational trauma refers to the ways in which the suffering of one generation influences the emotional and psychological well-being of subsequent generations. In my family, this manifests in unspoken fears and silenced stories, which I seek to confront through my work.

As I reflect on my grandmother’s journey, I recognise the intricate web of transgenerational trauma that has woven itself into our family’s narrative. Her experiences shaped not only her life but also the environment in which my mother raised my sister and me. Silence often cloaked our discussions about pain, yet the echoes of my grandmother’s story resounded in the values she instilled in us: resilience, strength, and the importance of speaking out. However, this complex legacy does not obscure the violence that defined her origins; rather, it must be acknowledged as a fundamental part of her story.

In confronting the painful realities of her past, my grandmother discovered a way to reclaim her narrative. She sought to imbue her life with new meaning and foster deeper connections with her loved ones. She often expressed how much she cherished her life and family, reminding me that, paradoxically, if it weren’t for the circumstances of her conception, none of us would be here—my mother, my sister, or I. Her love for us was profound and unwavering, illustrating a complex legacy of both love and pain. This duality emphasised the intricacies of her experiences.

Through her journey, she recognised the violence that shaped her origins while also cultivating a sense of purpose in her survival. However, it is essential to approach this narrative with sensitivity; the trauma she endured should never be framed through a lens of positivity or gratitude. Such perspectives risk trivialising the severity of the violation and the lasting effects it has had on lives. My grandmother’s story exemplifies resilience and highlights the ongoing struggle to reclaim one’s identity and narrative amidst deep-seated trauma.

Through my project, Let’s Talk About Rape®, I am determined to break this cycle. By giving a voice to those who have been silenced, I aim to challenge the legacies of trauma that have been passed down through generations. Each story shared is a step toward healing, a way to honour the past while forging a new path for the future. In doing so, I hope to transform my family’s narrative from one of pain to one of empowerment and resilience, ensuring that my daughters are not burdened by the traumas of the past but instead can build a future free from its shadows.

As I reflect on my six-year-old self and the innocent question that sparked this journey, I recognise the urgency of my mission. It is not merely an exploration of past injustices but a call to action for a future where women are empowered to tell their stories on their own terms, where consent is not an afterthought but a foundational principle. In honouring my grandmother’s legacy, I strive to weave together the personal and the universal, the historical and the contemporary. For in every story, whether sacred or silent, lies the potential for healing, understanding, and ultimately, change.