Challenging the Narrative: Media, Drug Use, and the Creation of Stigma, and How We Can Rewrite the Story.
Growing up in poverty, with experiences of homelessness, substance use, and encounters with the criminal justice system. In June 2025, I became the first in my family not only to attend university but to graduate. As a white, working-class man once written off by society, I now find myself standing in the prolific Bute Hall, draped in my gown at The University of Glasgow. But the journey to this moment was anything but conventional.
On 2nd November 2018, I entered Phoenix Futures Rehabilitation Service. After 14 years of drug use, including 12 years of chronic ketamine dependency. At the time, I weighed just six stone. I was physically f*cked, mentally broken, and spiritually empty. What shocked me most wasn’t just my condition, but how others responded to it. In rehab, I was mocked by other residents for my substance of choice. I was told, and I quote, that I wasn’t a “proper addict” because I “only used ketamine”.
That stigma stuck with me. It informed me that even among those in treatment, some stories don’t count. The idea that some forms of addiction are more legitimate and more “worthy” than others stayed with me. But also, for many years, my stigmatising viewpoint of other substances justified and encouraged my substance abuse.
This ongoing struggle with the hierarchy of substances, the belief that some addictions are considered more “valid” than others, was a primary motivation for the research that became my dissertation: Framing Addiction: Media Representations and the Impact on Societal Perceptions in Glasgow, Scotland (2019–2025)
What inspired me to explore the link between the media and addiction stigma?
Since leaving rehab in 2020, I’ve worked as a public speaker, sharing my journey across schools, colleges, universities, and nationwide conferences. I’ve collaborated with global media outlets like LADbible, The Sunday Times, The Epoch Times, and the BBC. My story has been viewed, read, or heard by tens of millions of people through various media platforms, including television, radio, newspapers, and social media.
And yet, despite the reach, despite the good intentions, I am often hit with waves of online abuse and sometimes, death threats. Derogatory comments like “You’re glamorising addiction”, “You don’t look like a junkie”, “You’re doing it for attention and money”, “Man Up, it wasn’t the drugs fault, it was you”, and the famous - “once an addict, always an addict”. These words used to hurt, and to be honest, they still do sometimes. But what hurts more is when the organisations I work with publish my story beneath dehumanising, stigmatising headlines, headlines I would never write myself.
So, I began to ask: Who gets to tell our stories? Who controls the narrative? And what happens when those stories are reduced to stereotypes?
How do these portrayals shape public perception, and ultimately, policy and practice?
My research analysed media coverage in Glasgow from 2019 to 2025. A period when the city gained the reputation of being “the Drug Death Capital of Europe”.
Media outlets frequently amplify the voices of politicians, police, and CEOs of major drug-related treatment providers or charities, many of whom hold significant influence over public opinion and policy. Yet, often have no lived experience of drug use. In some cases, their public statements appear less rooted in genuine insight and more in self-interest, shaped by the need to attract clients, funding, or political favour. This top-down approach reinforces a system in which expertise is equated with titles, rather than experience. Meanwhile, those directly affected by addiction are often excluded, tokenised, or only invited to speak within tightly controlled spaces.
This imbalance mirrors Antonio Gramsci’s theory of cultural hegemony, where dominant institutions control the discourse, deciding who gets to speak and what stories are legitimised. It perpetuates a model where addiction is explained for people with lived experience, rather than by people with lived experience, entrenching stigma and erasing the insight that only those with lived/living experience can genuinely offer.
These portrayals don’t just mirror public opinion; they actively shape it. When the media repeatedly depicts people who use drugs as violent, hopeless, or irresponsible, it diminishes empathy. It drives punitive policies, heightens public misunderstanding, and creates even more barriers to support for those most in need, despite overwhelming international evidence endorsing compassionate, health-based, person-centred approaches.
As Paulo Freire once said, “To speak a true word is to transform the world”. When the media denies us that word or distorts it, they deny us the opportunity for transformation.
What impact does this media framing have on people with lived/living experience?
It silences us. It shames us. It kills us.
Media stigma is not just a cultural issue; it’s a social justice issue, and a public health issue. It affects whether people seek help. It shapes how services treat them. And it determines whether society sees them as worthy of compassion or condemnation.
For me, the headlines that paints me as a “former addict/junkie turned success story” is not empowering. It reinforces the idea that I’m only valuable because I’ve “escaped” a life of drug use, as if I’m only acceptable now, but I wasn’t before. But I was a human being then, too. I had worth, even at my lowest point.
Erving Goffman’s concept of the “spoiled identity” describes how stigma reduces a person from whole to broken in the public eye. I lived that. And every time I see another sensationalist headline, I feel it again.
What role do people with lived/living experience have in challenging media stereotypes?
We must be central to the conversation, not just as interviewees or case studies, but as authors, editors, and decision-makers.
Lived experience is not just a story to be consumed, or some tokenistic “tick-box exercise”; it’s expertise. We understand the consequences of stigma because we still live with it. However, we also recognise the power of narrative to heal, connect, and create change. That’s why community-led media, podcasts, grassroots storytelling, and digital campaigns matter so much. They give us the space to speak truthfully, with dignity and depth.
We need allies in the media who are willing to co-create, not just consume. We need ethical standards that prioritise person-first language, context, and complexity. We need to invest in recovery-led platforms that centre on humanity and love, not dehumanisation and consequences.
Final thoughts
Stigma nearly killed me. What saved me was connection, not only to others, but to a new story about who I was and what I could become. The media has the power to support or sabotage that transformation.
We don’t need pity. We don’t need heroes. We need honesty, nuance, and justice. Because behind every headline is a human being, and every story deserves to be told with dignity and respect.
About the Author
Thomas Delaney is a public speaker, researcher, and social entrepreneur based in Glasgow. He is the founder & CEO of YouthWISE, a trauma-informed drug education initiative, and a recent First-Class Honours graduate of The University of Glasgow with a BA (Hons) in Community Development. His work draws from lived experience of ACEs, trauma, addiction and recovery, as well as academic research into media, stigma, and public policy. Thomas has collaborated with leading media organisations, including LADbible, The Sunday Times, BBC, and The Epoch Times, with his story reaching millions worldwide.
He is passionate about reframing narratives of addiction to promote dignity, justice, and human connection. Email: [email protected] Website: www.thomasdelaney.co.uk LinkedIn: linkedin.com/in/thomascdelaney