I am a stand-up but just after the pandemic, like most people in the arts, I needed a day job. I saw a job listing at The Sophie Hayes Foundation to support female survivors of modern slavery. I was nervous to apply. I had written my university dissertation on human trafficking but I worried working directly with survivors might be emotionally too much.

I had a pretty sheltered upbringing in rural England. I chose trafficking as a dissertation topic after a strange evening on a trip to Thailand, before my final year of university. I’d met some Canadian girls who were backpacking and they invited me to a ‘ping-pong’ show. I was so naive, I genuinely thought that meant fast table tennis, like that scene in Forrest Gump. 

When we got to the show, it was a sex show (obviously!) but more like cabaret. The performers were sweet and funny. It was just us three girls, then in our 20s, and some random old businessman at the back. They performed… well sort of magic tricks, if magic was only done through intimate areas. The show was tonally so silly and clown-like, that it didn't make me too uncomfortable.

That was until I told my Scottish mum who told me (the killer Scottish mum line): ‘I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed’. I told her not to be such a puritan, it was just a silly show. But she explained that going to the show wasn't the problem, it was that the women who perform in those shows are often trafficked and exploited and not actually free.

She then bought me the book Trafficked, by Sophie Hayes (because Scottish mums will bring outside resources to make a point). ‘Sophie Hayes’ is a pseudonym, but she was a real woman who actually began her eponymous foundation in 2011 after she escaped being trafficked into sexual exploitation in Italy. 

Once I read her story, I read more books on modern slavery and then chose it as a dissertation topic. I just couldn't believe people could do that to each other. I couldn't believe it happened here in the UK. That you could walk past houses or factories or farms and be walking past places where people inside were trapped. 

So when I saw the job advertised for The Sophie Hayes Foundation years later, I wanted to help. The charity's mission is to help female survivors to sustainable freedom by providing them with employment skills and opportunities and social networks and connections. I got the job and my role was to provide employment coaching and find placements for my cohort. Because this was post-pandemic, it was all done online. 

I don’t get nervous about performing stand-up. Some people say performing stand-up would make them nervous. For me, stand-up comedy is fun; you get to be silly and rude to strangers. All stand-ups are baseline narcissists though, even me. Think about it, we really believe what you need most on a Saturday night is to stop talking and listen to us. 

But teaching survivors made me nervous. I had shadowed colleagues and received training but I knew my clients were under such pressure, I didn't want to get it wrong. My first class went fine, but I was stiff and formal. I could tell my clients were nervous. I got through all the class content but the eight women on the screen gave one-word answers and seemed uneasy when I asked them questions. 

I asked my colleague for advice. She suggested an ice-breaker for the next class. She told me to take ten minutes at the start to ask my clients what their favourite cake was and why. I understood that wasn't going to help someone gain employment but she said it would put everyone at ease, so the next class I tried that. 

I couldn't believe the difference in my clients after the first one or two shared their cake-based stories. My class were living in safe houses here in the UK but had been brought here from all around the world, so English was their second language. But they spoke enthusiastically about ‘tres leches’ (three-milk) cake, recipes passed down from their grandmothers and burning past birthday cakes – and they had passionate debates about how long you leave shendetlie, an Albanian honey cake, to soak.

 They told their stories so confidently because talking about their favourite cake was something they were expert in. They laughed and connected and the more formal part of the class was smoother because everyone was put at ease. It taught me why storytelling is so powerful. 

There is so much disinformation about refugees. But the women I supported were brought here against their will. But they were not victims, they were survivors. When I asked them what they wanted to do for a job, the most common answer was that they wanted to help people.

I'm running a free stand-up and storytelling class for The Sophie Hayes Foundation this autumn. I want my former clients to feel confident to tell their own stories because even my preconception of how a survivor of trafficking would be was totally wrong. I thought they would be quiet and traumatised, and I'm sure at one point they were, but not at the stage when I met them. 

They were brave, brilliant, hard-working, resilient, funny women who just wanted to support their families and move on with their lives. My class will focus on confidence-building to help prepare survivors for future employment. But I hope one day one of them might become a stand-up and tell their own stories about cake and who they are beyond exploitation.

I want there to be more women ​in comedy telling their stories and not having them told by male comics or worse ‘edgy’ male comics. In a world of bin-fire comment sections and roundabout painting, there's really nothing edgy about standing on stage and saying something mean.

I love the work of The Sophie Hayes Foundation so have asked some comedy friends to perform at the Comedy Store on Wednesday October 8 to help raise funds for the incredible work they do. It's an amazing line up and an amazing cause. Please do come along.

• The show on October 8 features Eshaan Akbar, Harriet Kemsley, Matt Richardson, Alison Spittle, Laura Lexx, Catie Wilkins, Sikisa, Huge Davies, Ria Lina, Tiff Stevenson, Richard Herring, Grainne Maguire and Lou Sanders. Tickets are available here.