Why I Opened Dope Soul Village: Turning Pain into Power

Dope Soul Village is more than just a store. Yes, we sell empowering hoodies, sweatshirts, and other fun apparel, but at its core, Dope Soul Village is a community. A community of strong, resilient women coming together to support one another and challenge the systems that too often work against us. As its founder, Samantha Patrick, I opened Dope Soul Village not just as a business, but as a direct response to the abuse of power I experienced firsthand.

For years, I tried to remain silent about what happened to me, but I knew it wasn’t right. My story, unfortunately, is not unique, especially for women involved with the military. But after years of fighting alone, I decided to create a space where women don’t have to suffer in silence—where we can lift each other up and find strength in unity.

In 2020, after four years of trying to conceive, I finally became pregnant. My husband was serving in the British Army with the 1st Battalion, Princess of Wales's Royal Regiment (1 PWRR), a regiment that prides itself on being "family-oriented." We were stationed in Cyprus at the time, and because of my high-risk pregnancy, my midwife and I agreed that I should stay in Cyprus to avoid any unnecessary stress that could lead to a miscarriage. What should have been a joyful time quickly turned into a nightmare.

Around this time, my husband filed a formal service complaint against his boss, Major King. He felt bullied, denied any promotion opportunities, while other soldiers like Pte Dylan Maisfield were promoted after only a short time in the army, despite repeatedly breaking rules, including during lockdown and being involved in illegal activities. It was obvious my husband had good reason to file that complaint.

But Major King didn’t take kindly to being challenged, and what followed was a horrific abuse of power that would leave me questioning everything I thought I knew about the military’s supposed “family values.”

Not long after my husband filed his service complaint, Major King retaliated in a way that shook me to my core. He bypassed all Ministry of Defence (MoD) regulations and directly reported to the Royal Military Police (RMP) that I was financially abusive toward my husband and had other supposed issues—all baseless accusations. What made it worse was that when asked for evidence, Major King brazenly claimed it was based on his "gut feeling." No solid evidence, just a whim.

This ridiculous accusation led to a professional meeting, which thankfully resulted in the investigation being dropped due to a lack of any evidence. However, Major King wasn’t finished. Just one week later, I received a knock on my door. A man I had never met, Major Stewart, claimed to be a GP and wanted to check on me. Alarm bells rang in my head when I saw an ambulance parked outside, so I closed the door.

Two hours later, my home was stormed by three RMP officers, social services, and the same GP. They claimed that I was mentally unstable and planning to kill my unborn child. They had orders to section me and take me to a secure mother and baby unit. The basis for this outrageous claim? None. Major Stewart had fabricated the entire story as part of a plan concocted by him and Major King, both of whom were good friends.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with me or my baby. This was a blatant abuse of power aimed at silencing me and my husband for daring to challenge them.

The situation only got worse. The social worker, Louise Russell, who was supposed to be helping me, was more concerned with her affair with 1 PWRR Welfare Clerk Pete Robertson than with my case. She wasn’t interested in my safety or well-being. This kind of negligence and misconduct was rampant, and yet, every door I knocked on for help was slammed in my face.

I reached out to several charities meant to help women in situations like mine. **SSAFA**, the organization that employed the midwives, agreed behind closed doors that what was happening to me was horrific, but they refused to help me. **Birthright.org**, a charity meant to support pregnant women, suddenly changed their terms and conditions, stating they could only assist women based in the UK—even though any MoD post abroad is on sovereign grounds, making their reasoning invalid.

British Forces Cyprus, instead of investigating the abuse of power happening under their noses, threatened me. They changed military law to prevent me from speaking out on social media and even threatened to make my family homeless if I didn’t stay silent.

In the end, I received no help. My experience was dismissed, and I was expected to just carry on with my life as if none of it had ever happened. The MoD, the RMP, and every other institution involved chose to protect themselves and the men who abused their power instead of listening to me.

Through all of this, I realized something crucial: I was not alone. My story may be unique in its details, but women everywhere experience similar abuses of power, manipulation, and systemic failures. Whether in the military or civilian life, women are often labeled “crazy” when we dare to speak up. We’re threatened, silenced, and left to pick up the pieces alone.

Dope Soul Village isn’t just a store where you can buy empowering hoodies and sweatshirts. It’s a **community**—a place where women can come together, share their stories, and find strength in each other. I created this space so that no woman would ever feel as isolated or unsupported as I did.

What makes Dope Soul Village unique is that 20% of all profits go directly to the **DSV Charity**, which provides real, practical help to women in need, without forcing them to jump through endless bureaucratic hoops. Whether you're in the military or not, you deserve help, and I’m committed to making sure you get it.

I also came up with a solutionnwhen I was searching for solutions for my autistic daughter. That’s when I designed the sensory-smart pajamas with a back zip, preventing children from taking them off and engaging in smearing behaviors.

It’s a small example of how Dope Soul Village creates solutions for real-life struggles, just like mine.

Women have always been called "crazy" when we stand up and question the status quo, but that needs to end now. Dope Soul Village is about more than selling products—it’s about building a community. A community where women lift each other up, share their expertise, and create a network of support.

We can’t change the world alone, but together, we are **Dope Soul Village**. It’s time we stop centering men and their power, and start focusing on ourselves—our strength, our talents, and our ability to change this world for the better.

Let’s start building a community of women who have been through it all, who have talents and expertise to share, and who know that by standing together, we can create real change. We’ve been silent for too long. Now, it’s time to speak, to act, and to support each other like never before.

Together we are Dope Soul Village