They say, “What about rape?”
“What if the pregnancy wasn’t wanted?”
“What about her life?”
I am her life.
I’m the what if.
The 1% the world uses to justify 100% of the bloodshed.
But I’m not a theory. I’m not a loophole. I’m a living, breathing woman—and I’m here to tell you:
My life matters and so does every single unborn baby conceived in rape.
I was conceived in rape.
My mother was 18 at a party when the unthinkable happened.
She wanted to end the pregnancy—end me.
But one man stepped in: my grandfather.
He begged her to choose life. He held me when I was born. Fed me. Changed me. Loved me.
From the moment he found out about me, he fought for me.
He was my rescuer. My safe place. My “Pappy.”
The man I was raised to believe was my father wasn’t.
I found out the truth by accident—eavesdropping on a conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear at only 9-10 years old.
I barged in crying, and that’s when my mother took me to the side and told me everything.
She said I came from rape. I had no clue what that even meant.
She shared with me gruesome details of her being pinned down and… and, again, I was 9 or 10.
And for years, I carried that truth like a wound taped over with shame. I was able to tell my best school friends and significant people in my life throughout the years. Thankfully.
They all still remember to this day.
My Pappy died when I was 16.
I spiraled.
By 18 I became a teen mom.
I was a feisty teenager. Dating the bad boy. On birth control. A Junior in school. Sneaking into clubs. Drinking. Getting high. Skipping school. Modeling. Using my looks to get by.
When I finally told them I was pregnant…
People told me to abort.
That it wasn’t the right time.
That it wasn’t fair.
That I’d ruin my life.
That I’d have no future.
That it would be too hard.
That I was setting her up for failure.
But I already knew what it felt like to be a child people wanted to erase.
And I refused to pass that pain on.
I chose life.
My daughter didn’t destroy my future—she gave it purpose.
The birth of my beautiful baby girl became the moment my life turned from survival… to calling.
God used her to teach me what sacrificial love was.
It meant a chance to rewrite my legacy.
It gave me hope for her future and mine.
Hope that she wouldn’t experience the pains I did.
Because unlike my mother, I would fight for her to live.
I would protect her from predators.
I would give my life for hers.
Any. Day. Of. The. Week.
And I did.
When her horrible father mistreated her and me, I left. And I never looked back.
Now I’m 38. And that beautiful baby is 20.
I have three beautifully smart daughters.
A fiery husband who loves and protects me passionately. And he will do anything to protect his three daughters and his gorgeous wife. 😘
And now I am on a mission that burns in my bones:
To protect children.
To expose predators.
To train parents, caregivers, schools, churches to fight back against abuse, grooming, and exploitation.
To identify it and to address it.
Not to sweep it under the rug.
Not to erase people or their mistakes.
To remind the world that every life—no matter how small, how inconvenient, or how conceived—is sacred.
But unfortunately the trauma didn’t stop with me. Even though I tried so incredibly hard to stop it.
Perversion is pervasive.
Last year, when my daughter disclosed abuse involving my mom’s new husband and when she did my mother turned on me and her.
She denied her past.
Changed her story.
Launched a smear campaign against me.
Wanted to erase me again.
She said she was never raped. That it was “consensual.” That my biological father “just didn’t want me.” And I was making everything up.
But her present story doesn’t match the story from people I told this to over the years starting at the ripe young age of 9ish—including my childhood friends who remember the tears, the name, the shame I carried for years.
They even reminded me of the little girl on the playground who we thought was my sister because her mom dated my biological father. One of my childhood friend’s moms went to high school with mine and remembers, quite vividly, my mother and the tale she tells is vastly different than my mother’s.
They’ve all offered to write affidavits, if need be. My cousin, husband, and friends in my adult years even confirmed that this is part of my story and has been since they can remember.
I am not crazy even though I’m still being gaslit by the very person who was meant to protect me.
And when I found my biological father, he confirmed some much needed information.
⭐️ Like my sister Samantha’s phone number. 👯♀️
I finally found her yall!! My heart sings every time my phone pings from her text messages. I’ve met her twice since and she’s one of the most beautiful people in the world. (Love you sis!) ❤️
But what he also verified was quite shocking.
He asked for pictures of my teenage daughters. Incessantly.
Which obviously raised tons of red flags. 🚩
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. (Thanks to a special someone you know who you are!)
He’s a convicted sex offender. (I have the arrest report and court docs to prove it.)
When confronted, he lied, at first.
But then when I sent him the police reports and docs he went from being sugary sweet to being a three-headed, red eyed monster. In the drop of a text message.
And I’m supposed to believe he didn’t hurt my mother?
Please.
🚨This isn’t just my story. It’s a warning‼️
When we excuse abortion “for the hard cases,” we erase the very people God often chooses to use the most.
I was born from trauma, but I wasn’t a mistake. (Cue NF’s “Mistake”, IYKYK… and thank you NF for making music that speaks to my inner traumatized child that is still healing. You’ve made me feel not so alone.)
I chose life as a teen mom, but my life wasn’t ruined.
I am the 1% the abortion industry uses to justify millions of deaths.
But I am living proof that life—no matter how it begins—is worth defending.
I now work with Truth78, helping families, churches, and schools disciple children in the whole counsel of God. Sharing the good news of Jesus to children of all walks of life. Giving them eternal hope that surpasses all of life’s circumstances.
I run TheBoldAdvocate, equipping people to boldly protect kids and boldly expose the darkness.
Because silence isn’t compassion. And passivity isn’t love.
We don’t fight just for the easy cases—we fight for all of them.
Especially the 1%.
Because I am one.
And I am still here.
By God’s grace.
🫶🏽
26 For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.
27 But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong;
28 God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are,
29 so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.
30 And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption,
31 so that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.” (1 Corinthians 1:26-31, ESV)
- The Cost of Silence: Why Institutions Protect Themselves Instead of Children
I didn’t grow up invisible. I went to school.I went to church.I smiled for pictures.I showed up. And yet, I was profoundly unprotected. By the time I was five years old, I was being exposed to pornography on a daily basis. Not once. Not accidentally. Not hidden. It was part of the environment I lived… Read more: The Cost of Silence: Why Institutions Protect Themselves Instead of Children - Hate Speech vs. Freedom of Speech: Why Accountability Matters
Discusses the distinction between free speech and hate speech, emphasizing the responsibility of professionals working with children to model respectful behavior. It highlights that while the government protects free speech, community standards may necessitate accountability for hate speech, stressing the importance of safeguarding children from harmful rhetoric. - The Fire Charlie Sparked Will Not Go Out!
Charlie Kirk’s bold faith lit a fire in me to become The Bold Advocate. His death has only ignited a revival—awakening thousands to return to God, pick up their Bibles, and carry the torch to the next generation. - Flashlight First: The Family “Theme Park” That Trains Courage
“Mom, my happy place is WOFT.”- said my 14 year old daughter as we were leaving this past weekend. “I’d rather go to WOFT than Disney, Universal or the beach,” my other daughter said. This put the biggest smile on my face. My husband and I were reminded in those moments why we’re exhausting our… Read more: Flashlight First: The Family “Theme Park” That Trains Courage - What Happened to Dora Moono Nyambe?
Dora Moono Nyambe was a beloved Zambian humanitarian, teacher, and TikTok influencer who built a school for vulnerable children in Mapapa Village. Her sudden death on December 25, 2024, shocked millions worldwide. While an autopsy was reportedly performed, no official results have been released. Family members raised serious concerns about suspicious circumstances, including the unauthorized seizure of Dora’s phone, control of her social media accounts, and silence from those now managing her nonprofit, Footprints of Hope. As followers demand answers, troubling questions remain: Who controls Dora’s legacy? Why hasn’t the autopsy been disclosed? And are the children she cared for still safe? This in-depth investigation explores what we know—and what’s still being hidden. If you knew Dora, worked with her, or have credible insight, this blog is also a call for whistleblowers to help uncover the truth and ensure justice for Dora’s memory and the vulnerable children she fiercely protected.