©️ By Sophie Lewis | The Grooming Files | @realtalkrealtea
Part One: The Generation the Internet Groomed — And the System Forgot
*This is the first piece in a new personal series, sharing my own story as a survivor of grooming and systemic failure. It builds on my 2025 Five Part Series exposé. But this time it’s personal. *
I was barely 8 years old when a man told me I was beautiful in a MSN chatroom.
I didn’t see danger. I saw excitement. I saw attention. I saw someone noticing me. Looking back, that moment changed everything.
We were the first kids online. Dial-up tones. MSN Messenger. Webcams balanced on bulky monitors. No rules. No warnings. No one watching.
And the predators? They found us before our parents even knew what a USB was.
They met us in chatrooms. Kids Chat. AOL. MSN, Yahoo. We’d log in at 9, say we were 14, and before long we’d be hearing: “What you wearing?” “You’re cute.” “Show me.”
They showed themselves too. Men in their 30s. 40s. 60s. Not 16. Not 18. Fully Grown Men.
**Just let that sink in a minute… **
They told us we were special. Mature. Beautiful. And we believed them — because no one told us not to.
It Didn’t Feel Like Grooming. It Felt Like Attention.
It felt like excitement. Like thrill. Like fear we didn’t understand. Like shame that still knots in our stomachs decades later.
We started meeting them. Men with cars. Men with alcohol. Men who didn’t need to take us — we went. We lied about our ages, because that’s what girls did. We said we were 16 when we were 13.
But the truth? We looked 10. And they knew it.
We thought we loved it. That’s what they made us believe. That wasn’t consent — that was childhood confusion, weaponised.
It became so normal, it was daily. And the damage was done before we even knew we were bleeding.
“Ben” Could’ve Killed Me
He offered me a lift once when I was with friends. Pakistani or Indian — I wasn’t sure. We’d seen him around. The next time, I went alone.
He picked me up. Drove me somewhere remote. Dark. Silent. I remember how heavy the air was.
He tried to kiss me. Grabbed me. Pushed. Pressured.
I froze. But I lied — faked a call, said my sister was tracking me, said my location out loud.
Maybe that scared him. Maybe it didn’t. But he drove me back. And the second the car slowed near my estate, I jumped out and ran like hell.
Because I truly believed — if I hadn’t — he would’ve raped me. Or worse. **Killed me! **
20 Men. Two Girls. No Way Out.
J said she knew them. “They’re alright,” she told me. “It’s fine.” They were Nigerian. Picked us up. Took us to a house.
When we walked in? More than twenty men. All older. All staring.
We were offered drinks. I told J not to take it. She did anyway.
Then we were moved. New house. Same two men. Upstairs. Into a bedroom.
It became clear, fast — this wasn’t a hangout. This was a setup.
I grabbed J’s arm and said, “We’re going.”
We ran. Shoved past them. Jumped over bodies on the stairs. Flew out the door like our lives depended on it — because they probably did.
We were barely fourteen.
They Said We Were Naughty Girls
I tried to speak out. Told someone. Cracked open the truth.
They didn’t believe me. Worse — they blamed me.
“You loved the attention.” “It’s your fault.” “You were asking for it.”
Even now, when I talk to girls I grew up with, they ask: “Was it really grooming?” “We were naughty, weren’t we?” “Did that really happen to us?”
Yes. Yes, it did.
That’s the sound of an entire generation, gaslit by silence.
What the System Never Saw — Because It Wasn’t Looking
There were no safeguarding policies for what we lived through. No assemblies warning us about “online predators.” No teachers trained in grooming recognition. No systems prepared for what the internet was unleashing.
We were the first generation to be groomed through a screen. And the institutions that were meant to protect us? They were still warning us about strangers in vans offering sweets.
While we were being messaged by grown men at midnight, schools were handing out cartoon leaflets about “saying no to drugs.” Police didn’t know what screenshots were. Social workers weren’t trained in digital abuse. And the law? It barely existed.
The internet was a playground. But predators were the only ones who read the rules.
The Internet Grew — But Protection Didn’t
By the time adults caught up, the damage had already been done. We weren’t seen as victims — we were labelled problems.
Disruptive. Promiscuous. Attention-seeking.
Our trauma was punished. Not supported. Not believed. Not understood.
They didn’t ask why we were spiralling. They gave us detentions. Exclusions. Isolation rooms. They moved us from school to school. They called our parents in. But they never called out the men grooming us.
We Were Never Asked the Right Questions
Nobody said: “Are you okay?” “Do you feel safe online?” “Has anyone ever made you uncomfortable in a chatroom?”
We were never taught that being manipulated by a 35-year-old man wasn’t our fault. Instead, we were told to be careful — as if we were the problem.
So we internalised that.
For years, we thought we were “naughty.” We laughed it off. We carried the shame. We blamed ourselves — and each other.
But we weren’t being difficult. We were being groomed. And nobody. Ever. Asked.
The Legacy We Still Carry
It didn’t end when the messages stopped. Or when the house door shut. Or when the man drove away.
It stayed with us.
In our nervous systems. In our relationships. In our sense of safety. In the way we flinch when someone says, “You were wild back then.” In the way we second-guess ourselves, even now.
We survived the grooming. But nobody prepared us for the aftermath.
We Grew Up — But the Damage Grew With Us
The world taught us that what happened to us wasn’t that serious. So we learned to swallow it.
We carried trauma into our teens. Into sex. Into adulthood. Into breakdowns and addiction. Into trust issues and triggered silences. Into that voice in our head that still asks, “Why can’t I just get over it?”
And still — it’s rare anyone calls it what it was.
Because we didn’t get groomed today, with safeguarding and public outrage. We got groomed then — in the wild west of the internet, when people thought it was just “girls being flirty.”
No one saw us as victims. So we didn’t know we were.
Even Now, We Doubt Ourselves
That’s the legacy. Not just trauma — but doubt.
We still hear the voices in our heads: “Was it really that bad?” “We went along with it, didn’t we?” “We lied about our age though…”
We repeat the lies we were fed. We laugh when we talk about it, because we don’t know what else to do. We swap horror stories like they’re throwaway memories.
But deep down? We know we weren’t wild. We were unprotected.
And that’s what hurts the most — that we’ve had to live this long wondering if we did this to ourselves.
We didn’t.
This Never Stopped — It Just Got Easier
Predators didn’t disappear when the dial-up tone died. They evolved — just like the tech did.
Now they don’t need AOL chatrooms. They’re on Kik, Snapchat. TikTok. Discord. Instagram. Fake names. Disappearing messages. Private servers.
They don’t have to ask for your number. They can reach a 12-year-old through a comment on a stranger’s post.
They don’t have to drive around looking for vulnerable girls. They scroll for them. They search hashtags like #lonely. They read comments under selfies. They send DMs and wait.
And the difference now? It’s faster. It’s smarter. It’s constant.
And still — the system hasn’t caught up.
They Still Count on Silence
Grooming follows the same steps it always did: Spot the vulnerability. Build trust. Create shame. Exploit silence. Count on institutions to do nothing.
Because that’s what still happens today.
A child discloses abuse? They’re asked what they were wearing. How many people they’ve slept with. Whether they were “mature for their age.”
The same grooming culture we lived through — is still being met with the same doubt, delay, and denial.
The System Learns Nothing
We’ve had the reports. We’ve had the inquiries. We’ve had the scandals, the hashtags, the headlines.
And yet:
Police still dismiss “difficult” victims. Schools still protect reputations over children. The CPS still drops cases citing “credibility.” Children are still moved — while the abusers stay put.
We’re still here. Saying the same things we tried to say 20 years ago — and still being told we’re “complicating things.”
We’re Done Being Quiet — And We’re Not Asking Anymore
We’re not confused anymore. We’re not wondering if it “counts.” We’re not searching for the right words to make it easier to hear.
We know what it was: Grooming. Abuse. Neglect. Silence.
And it wasn’t our fault.
You don’t get to blame children for being vulnerable. You don’t get to excuse grown men who target trauma. And you definitely don’t get to call it a “failure” when the system was built to look the other way.
This Is Our Reckoning
We’re not asking for awareness. We’re not here to educate nicely or ask for permission.
We’re naming names. We’re connecting patterns. We’re exposing the blueprint.
This isn’t a call for more safeguarding posters. It’s a demand:
Acknowledge us. Protect the next generation. Stop pretending this wasn’t by design.
You Can’t Erase Us
We were there. We saw everything.
We’re still here. And we’re louder than ever.
You didn’t break us. You didn’t erase us. You made us dangerous — because now we understand exactly what you did.
And we’re not going away.
Author’s Note: If this feels familiar — you’re not alone. Your story matters. Even if you’ve never spoken it out loud. Especially if no one ever believed you.
It was real. It happened. And it wasn’t your fault.
🚨 I’m collecting stories from adults (18+ ONLY) who experienced online and/or offline grooming in the early internet days.
If you’d like to share yours anonymously, you can do that here: Anonymous Form - Share Your Story ❤️
