Behind the Mic: What I Couldn't Say in My Interview with Free FM's Hannah Mooney
24 April 2025I met with the amazing Hannah Mooney from Free FM’s That’s The Ticket podcast this week —you can listen to the interview here. On the surface, it sounded like a fun-loving, carefree interview. But inside, I was spiraling.
What you didn’t know is that I had entered that studio with every intention of finally talking about that night —the one that inspired my song Chocolate Porcelain Doll. The night that still haunts me. The truth I’ve danced around for decades. But there I was, skirting around it again. Talking in circles. Touching everything but the fire.
Every question, every topic, I internally whispered to myself: “Now’s your chance.” But the words never came. My body and mind locked in a little jail built by trauma. A trauma response I’ve mastered the ability to mask. To the outside world, I looked composed —even cheerful. Beautiful, kind-hearted Hannah was completely oblivious to the storm raging inside me.
The interview ended. I even thanked her for steering clear of the topic of sexual abuse —while simultaneously beating myself up for not going there. Everything appeared normal. Hannah was happy. I appeared happy.
But the spiral didn’t end when I left Free FM’s studio. I spent the rest of that evening replaying every moment, every word, every missed opportunity. My mind, relentless, tore through the details with ruthless precision.
Eventually, I reached out to her. And two emails later, my mind found a little peace. I realised the disappointment wasn’t about the interview being a ‘miss’ —because it wasn’t. That voice in my head had lied. My disappointment was with myself. For not being able to speak about a secret I’ve held onto for nearly three decades.
Yes, I’ve spoken about it before —but only in controlled environments. Even then, I never truly unpacked it. People don’t know the details. They don’t know what happened. It’s all buried, and apparently, my mind isn’t ready to dig it up yet.
So what does this mean for Chocolate Porcelain Doll?
I’m not sure. My intention with the song was to create something more than just music. A call to action. A call for change. A raw reminder of the invisible weight survivors carry, often while being forced to protect their predators —and the people who protect them, while silencing us.
This behaviour had become the norm in my community. A dangerous, damaging norm that needs to be broken. Something I thought I would break. But there I was, unable to even say the words. Blocked by a silence I didn’t choose, but one that was deeply, culturally ingrained in me.
Here’s what I do know: I might not be able to talk about it yet —but I can write. I can sing. And that’s something.
If you’re reading this and you’ve been a victim of this horrific social norm —you are not alone. There are so many of us.
And if you’re someone who’s been complicit in silencing survivors, whether knowingly or unknowingly —this is a call for reflection, and a plea for change. We can’t keep protecting the men in our lives at the expense of the women and children they’ve harmed. The survivors are still fighting to survive. Their lives have been altered in ways most will never understand —while the people who harmed them go on to lead seemingly “normal,” untouched lives.
To the survivors reading this: you are not alone. Even if your voice feels quiet right now, it’s still valid. Still powerful.
As for Chocolate Porcelain Doll —it’s not just a song. It’s the truth, finally finding its voice.
Until the silence breaks, the music will speak.
Carnita Bee
