In the Wake of the UK's Rape Gang Inquiry Report:

This week has seen the release of the Rape Gang Inquiry Report by UK Parliament member, Rupert Lowe MP. It's a subject that cannot and should not be ignored.

This 218-page document reports on the systematic and organised rape of at least 250,000 British girls over the past four or five decades.

The harrowing stories within the report display an appalling failure to protect children, and babies, by those in positions of power such as the police, social workers, counsellors, the judiciary, and yes, sometimes parents too.

Even worse, there seems to have been a failure of successive British governments to deal with the problem.

The perpetrators of these hideous crimes have been operating on an industrial scale, in a reported 149 districts across the United Kingdom.

These crimes continue, mainly hidden and unreported, to this very day.

If you are a bodyworker you will be seeing people in your practices who have gone through rape and sexual abuse. Even if they haven't been drawn into the world of the rape and drug gangs, you will be crossing paths with people who may have been raped by a relative or person known to them. It may have been a single event. It may have been a repeated, daily event for them.

So it's wise to be aware of some of the (perhaps) tell-tale signs of physical or sexual abuse.

There are some subjects that require us to slow down, not only in how we speak, but in how we listen. Sexual assault and abuse are among them. Their impact reaches far beyond what can be seen, and while the emotional and psychological effects are more widely acknowledged, the physical imprint on the body is often quieter, yet just as profound.

As bodyworkers, we are sometimes invited, gently and carefully, into that space where the body has held its own memory of survival. The body is, above all else, protective.

In moments of overwhelming threat, it does what it must to endure. The nervous system mobilises into fight or flight when it can, and when it cannot, it may freeze or shut down. These responses are not choices; they are deeply wired survival mechanisms. But while the event itself may be in the past, the patterns of protection can remain in the body long after the danger has passed.

Muscles that once tightened in defence do not always remember to let go.

In survivors of sexual trauma, this can often be felt in the pelvis and upper legs. The hip flexors and the inner thigh muscles (the adductors) frequently carry a particular kind of tension. Anatomically, these areas make sense. The adductors draw the legs inward, a protective closing response around the pelvic space. The hip flexors, particularly the psoas, are deeply linked to our core and our sense of safety; they engage in withdrawal, in curling, in bracing against threat.

Over time, these patterns can become habitual. What began as protection becomes structure. The body adapts around it.

What we might observe, as practitioners, is not always dramatic. It may present as restricted hip mobility, a reluctance of tissue to soften, or a client who finds it difficult to fully relax on the table. There may be sensitivity to certain forms of touch, or a subtle holding of the breath. These are not problems to be fixed, but expressions of a body that learned, very effectively, how to protect itself.

Within this context, working with scar tissue, whether visible or not, requires a particular kind of care. MSTR® offer a gentle way of engaging with tissue that has become dense, fibrous, or unyielding. The intention is not to force change, but to invite it. By improving the glide between layers and softening areas of restriction, we may support increased ease of movement and, sometimes, a quiet sense of reconnection with the body.

What matters most, however, is not the technique itself, but the way it is held.

Trauma-informed bodywork is grounded in consent, clarity, and respect. Every step is explained. Every boundary is honoured. The client retains control—not just in theory, but in practice. They can pause, redirect, or decline at any point. Our role is not to lead the process, but to accompany it.

In this kind of work, even small shifts carry significance. A muscle that softens slightly. A breath that deepens. A moment where the body chooses, perhaps for the first time in a long while, that it no longer needs to hold quite so tightly.

Occasionally, there may be an emotional response alongside physical release. This is not something to expect or to seek out, but something to meet with steadiness if it arises. The body does not separate physical and emotional experience as neatly as we sometimes do; when one layer changes, another may follow. Our task is simply to provide a space where whatever emerges can do so safely.

It is equally important to recognise the limits of our role. We do not diagnose, and we do not assume. Not every pattern of tension speaks of trauma, and not every client wishes to explore those connections. Where deeper psychological support is needed, referral to appropriately trained professionals is an essential part of ethical practice.*

Ultimately, this work is not about undoing the body’s protection. Those protective patterns were, at one time, necessary. They deserve respect. What we offer instead is the possibility—patiently, gently—that the body might begin to feel safe enough to soften.

The body remembers, but it also adapts. And sometimes, with the right conditions, it finds its way toward ease again.

For some survivors, particularly where abuse has occurred repeatedly over time, the relationship with the body can become deeply complex. Self-harm, in various forms, is something that may emerge in this context. It is not a universal response, but when it does occur it is often rooted in the same protective intelligence that shaped the body’s physical guarding patterns. For some, it can be a way of managing overwhelming internal states, transforming emotional pain into something tangible, or regaining a sense of control when control was once taken away. For others, it may reflect a profound disconnection from the body, or even a sense that the body is no longer wholly “their own.”

From a bodywork perspective, this underscores the importance of approaching the body not simply as a structure to be treated, but as a lived experience shaped by history. Areas of tightness, restriction, or altered sensation may exist alongside patterns of avoidance or distress. Gentle, consent-led work can begin to support a different kind of relationship - one in which the body is not something to endure or manage, but something that can, over time, feel safer to inhabit. This is slow work, and it is never about forcing change, but about creating conditions in which the possibility of reconnection can begin.

We have had reported some remarkable stories about how MSTR® has helped those who have scarring from self-harm. But it is a presentation that requires careful management and perhaps other professional support.

Work of this nature also asks us, as practitioners, to be very clear about our boundaries. While bodywork can support physical ease and, at times, a gentler reconnection with the body, it is not a substitute for psychological or trauma-specific care.

Experiences such as sexual abuse or patterns of self-harm sit within a much wider and more complex landscape that often requires specialist support. If a client presents with active self-harm, significant distress, or discloses experiences of abuse, it is essential that we respond with care, but also recognise when to signpost or refer to appropriately qualified professionals, whether that is a family doctor (GP), therapist, or specialist support service. Working collaboratively, rather than in isolation, helps ensure that the client is supported safely and holistically.

After reading Rupert Lowe's report, it became abundantly clear that in virtually all cases there were major issues around trust. These children discovered that they could no longer trust those in positions of power. In many cases, children and young adults found not a single person they turned to could be trusted. This includes counsellors and other "professionals". * If you refer a client to another professional for additional support, you must not disengage from their care. It is your responsibility to remain appropriately involved, to follow up, and to ensure that the client is able to access the support you have signposted. A referral does not transfer responsibility. It extends it. As the referring practitioner, you retain a duty of care within your scope of practice and must take reasonable steps to ensure the client is not left unsupported during that process. If you build trust, you must maintain it at all costs. For further information, we have a video HERE about scars and trauma. It's a difficult read: Rupert Lowe MP's Rape Gang Inquiry Report downloadable HERE