My Story

I grew up in South Africa. At a young age, I became aware of poverty, oppression and injustice. It was all around me. I discovered that I have high empathy. This gift sometimes felt like a curse. I loved people and cared about them, and seeing so many violent. Crimes against women and girls deeply affected me. I knew I had to give back and help bring positive change. I knew who I was, and I had a clear purpose. I was filled with hope. I had big dreams of travelling the world, empowering girls and women, and being confident in my abilities. I saw no limit, but my life was about to change.It all began on my first school day when I was six:
The morning started with screaming and punishment from my new math teacher. I was sent to the principal's office. I felt shame for the first time as the principal shouted, You are a bad girl. You are not focusing in class and can't answer the math questions correctly. I left his office in tears. (I discovered much later in my life that I have ADHD, ADD, and learning disabilities in math and English writing. Which explained why I struggled to stay focused at School.)
I joined my classmates outside for lunch break, and my spirits began to lift. I loved the sunshine; things had to improve! To my surprise, a large group of children surrounded me.
They started pushing and shoving me so hard that I lost my balance and fell onto the dirt floor. I felt so confused and afraid. Why was this happening to me? What had I done wrong?
They screamed insults so loud it hurt my ears; some laughed, and a few even spat on me. Then, they began to kick me. I curled into the fetal position and covered my face with my hands. Each kick caused me so much pain that it took my breath away. The words of hate hurt just as much as the physical beating: “You are stupid, you are a loser and ugly. Go home! You don't belong here”.
I felt so much fear that I couldn't even call for help. I lay there for a long time afterward, feeling paralyzed as the kids returned to their classroom. At that moment, I began to believe the lie that something was wrong with me. Panic and fear filled me. I decided I needed to become someone else because who I was was not good enough. I would have to change if I wanted to survive. That was when I began to lose sight of my true identity and purpose.
That day, I went home, and instead of telling my mother or letting the tears flow, I reached for a cookie jar and stuffed my feelings way down until I was numb. The sugar had an effect on me like nothing I could ever explain. It was like a big, warm hug. It melted everything away; I felt safe and loved for a moment. I began
to turn to food, especially sugar, to numb my pain. I seemed different from other people with sugar. They could stop after one treat.I began to gain weight, and the bullying at School increased with the new label of “fat” being added to the list. I started to hate myself because I couldn't stop binge eating; the more pain I felt, the more I needed to numb my feelings and the more I ate in secret. We didn't have much money, and food was one of the only pleasures my family celebrated.At the age of fifteen, I was sexually abused by a man who was a drug addict. I believe that I had contracted HIV from my abuser because most of the people he shared his drug needles with had died or were sick with HIV. At that time in South Africa, rape was a rapidly growing crime. It was devastating to see how many women had died and left their children orphans. I had not heard about any medication available in South Africa at that time for AIDS. If the medication or help, I did not know of it. I felt that my life was over,
and all my dreams of a future were destroyed. Out of fear of being
abused again, I tried to look less attractive to men.
I took a pair of scissors and cut my long, curly hair into a short haircut. Instead of my beautiful, feminine, brightly coloured dresses, I chose black clothing. I felt more comfortable wearing masculine clothing, long pants, and buttoned-up loose-fitting shirts. I was slowly losing my femininity, so I used my weight as a shield to keep myself safe. At School, our religious teacher spoke on purity, and I was told
that God wanted His young women to be virgins and to be pure for their husbands. That day, my heart broke because I believed the lie.Something happened within me; it was like my spirit had finally been shattered and broken into so many tiny pieces that all I could do was sweep them up into a pile and hide them away in shame.I resolved to start over and reinvent myself: I would use the anger and self-hatred to become everything I should be and find the love I desperately desired!So, I set out on a plan to change myself. I began my first diet, believing people would like me more if I lost a few pounds. As I started to lose weight, I got a few compliments from my classmates, so I ate even less and exercised harder. I constantly counted calories in my mind. Every morning, I weighed myself and only felt like I had lost weight. If I didn't, I would punish myself by exercising more and eating less daily. When I looked in the mirror, I would see all my flaws. I started collecting images of models, the " perfect body," in magazines. I used their images to inspire myself to diet and exercise harder. I didn't realize that anorexia was creeping up on me until it was too late.As my weight plummeted, so did the compliments. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a distorted image of someone who was obese and overweight. People began to make hurtful comments that I looked ugly and sick, that I was too thin. When I went out in public, people stared at me. I began to isolate myself from the world and to stay at home.
At sixteen, I was dying; my organs were showing signs that. They would shut down, and I could no longer walk, as I was too weak. I was drifting farther from reality every day and closer and closer to death. In desperation, my father carried me to a church that was showing a movie on eating disorders.
He placed me in a seat and forced me to watch it. The documentary followed the lives of two girls with eating disorders. They were interviewing the girls and their parents. One girl had photos of models on the wall of her bedroom. She said they inspired her to keep losing weight and exercising. She spoke of keeping a food journal with all the calories she counted daily. The movie got my attention. I could see that my behaviour and habits were very similar to hers. The film followed another girl trying to drink as much water as possible before the doctors weighed her to trick them into believing she had gained weight. I had recently tried to trick the doctors in the same way.
Then, suddenly, the film took a turn for the worse. The girl who had been tricking the doctors was taken to the hospital. Her organs had shut down, and she died. They interviewed her parents, who were devastated. Her mother kept blaming herself and said she told her to stop dieting, but she should have tried harder.
The film began to show footage of the girl at different stages of her life. She was so talented and beautiful. She had big dreams of becoming a
professional dancer. Her best friend said someone had called her fat, and that comment had triggered her to start dieting. I began to think about my life. I was beginning to see the facts. My mother had been threatening to send me to an eating disorder treatment center if I didn't get well. My doctor had told me that if I did not eat that, my organs would shut down. I now understood what that meant: that I would die. After the film, my father drove me home in silence.
I couldn't stop thinking of how sad it was that the girl in the documentary had died so young. She had so much to live for, but she believed a lie, and it cost her everything. The following day, a miracle happened when I looked into the mirror in my bedroom. For the first time in years, I saw myself as I was. God allowed me to see my true reflection in the mirror. I saw that my body had wasted away. I looked like a living skeleton; my eyes were sunken in, and I looked like I was about to die. That miracle saved my life; I started to eat small amounts, just enough to survive. My heart was not healed; each time I ate, I would feel guilty and ashamed, and I turned to bulimia (vomiting up my food). After a few months, I managed to maintain my weight and convince my family that I was improving. Still, the truth was that bulimia was affecting my body and my self-esteem.Bowing down to a toilet and vomiting up every meal made me feel worthless. I felt out of control because I was not able to stop. I
started having side effects from bulimia. My hair started to fall out,
my throat was constantly sore, and I had continual pain in my stomach from the constant vomiting of food.
I completed my studies and began as a professional hairstylist. A Company named Regis hired me, which opened a door to study in London, England, for their " Train the Trainer program." I loved it in England; women had so much more freedom, and the fear of not being assaulted in broad daylight opened my eyes to what "life should be like."I began to get an insight into the darker side of the beauty and fashion industries. I discovered how their photos were altered and edited to make them appear younger, thinner, and taller. I learned the dark truth about the immense pressure models were under to maintain an "idealized thin body size "and " to stay looking 'youthful. " Most of the women I met admitted struggling with eating disorders, and many had undergone plastic surgery, or were relying on injectables. I learned that some young women had died from anorexia or faced serious lifelong health issues due to the abuse of laxatives and bulimia. I realized that no one could meet these unrealistic standards of beauty. The pursuit of an unattainable ideal exacted a significant toll, with some women even losing their lives in the process.I became determined to break free from this cycle. I wanted to find recovery from the cycle of bulimia, compulsive overeating, highly restrictive diets, and over-exercising to stay thin. I felt hopeless, and it was the darkest time of my life. I was stuck behind a door of shame and didn't have the key.At the age of twenty-one, I experienced two additional acts of
sexual assault in South Africa. I felt angry with myself, and I felt shame beyond words. I felt like the biggest loser ever and believed the lie that it
was "all my fault." One year later, I went to a clinic and got tested for HIV. Sitting in a small, crowded room waiting for my results, I began reflecting on my life. I realized I had lost my authentic self and had allowed my dreams to die. I had tried to mould myself into what the world wanted me to be, into what others saw as successful. Deep in my heart, I wanted to live; I wanted a second chance to live my life as my true self. I mumbled a small prayer to God to give me a second chance to live the life He wanted me to live, and I promised that if He did, I would live my life for Him and do whatever He wanted me to.The test came back negative, and I had my second chance!
That evening, I went to church and gave my life to Jesus Christ.
A river of love and happiness began to flow through me; the empty void in me was finally gone!
I felt drawn to read the Bible and began to understand that Jesus came to love, heal and give us all a second chance. God has a good plan for my life— for all our lives.My life has transformed. God has led me on a healing path to reclaim parts of myself that I thought were gone.
I’ve got my passion and purpose back, and I’ve finally found freedom from eating disorders. I went from feeling negative about my body to embracing and taking care of it as God's temple, and now I'm living
The impactful life I’ve always dreamed of.
As a makeup artist and hairstylist for over two decades, I’ve worked with many teen girls and women from all walks of life. It has opened countless honest conversations about how most struggle with negative body image and self-worth, and feel they are not beautiful. Even highly successful businesswomen who were middle-aged or older said they felt insecure about aging.I felt God calling me to speak out and share the valuable lessons and tools that have helped me find hope, healing, and recovery from eating disorders, low self-esteem and negative body image through God's grace and transformative healing power.