Thousands of children in Wales experience the imprisonment of a parent each year, yet many remain invisible to the systems designed to support children and families. This blog, written by Fae*, 16, one of Pact's Young Ambassadors from Wales, reflects on her own experience of growing up with parents in prison and the difference early, structured support could make for children in similar situations.

I was only 14 months old when my parents went to prison. I have no memory of what happened and no recollection of them leaving. For years, I was shielded from the truth. It was treated as something that should never be spoken about, something buried beneath layers of silence and shame.

I didn't learn what had happened until I was nine years old. Alongside the truth came another message: never speak about it again. It was shameful.

As a child, I didn't really know what to do with that. I carried the weight of a secret that I didn't know how to manage.

At primary school, I was already struggling. Like many children, I wanted to fit in, to make friends and to stop feeling isolated. In what now feels like a desperate attempt to belong, I decided to tell people the truth about my parents. I thought honesty might help people understand me better.

Instead, it made things worse.

Children avoided me. People whispered behind my back. For the first time, I experienced the stigma attached not only to prisoners but to their children as well. The message seemed clear: people judged me not for who I was, but for what my parents had done.

What was hardest was realising that this attitude did not disappear as I grew older. There is a common assumption that children of prisoners are somehow destined to follow the same path, as though we inherit the mistakes of our parents.

But I was just a child.

Like every other child, I wanted friends. I wanted to play, laugh and feel normal. Yet underneath that was a pressure that felt far too heavy for someone my age. Growing up without my parents affected me in ways I only fully understood years later. It shaped my confidence, my self-esteem and my sense of belonging.

Looking back, what I wish adults had understood is that children affected by parental imprisonment are often carrying much more than people can see. We may not talk about it. Sometimes we have been told not to. Sometimes we do not know how. But that does not mean we are not struggling.

Schools are particularly important. For me, school was often the closest thing I had to normality. When so much felt confusing, it was one of the places where life could still feel ordinary.

Among all the adults I met, one teacher stands out. My art teacher never treated me differently from anyone else. She listened when I felt alone, encouraged me when I was struggling and helped me discover a love of creativity that has stayed with me to this day.

She did not see me as a problem or a label. She saw me as a child. Most importantly, she saw me.

I often think about how different things might have been if proper support had been available for children like me. It could have reduced the loneliness I felt and helped people recognise the anxiety and depression I was experiencing from a young age. It could have supported my wider family too. Most importantly, it could have reminded us that we were not facing those challenges alone.

Children with a parent in prison need support, not stigma. They need trusted adults, understanding schools and systems that recognise their experiences instead of overlooking them.

Most of all, they deserve what every child deserves: the chance to have a childhood.

Let's make sure that no child is defined by a parent's actions. Let's make sure children affected by parental imprisonment are not simply surviving, but are able to grow, thrive and enjoy their childhood without carrying those burdens alone.