TL;DR
- Strictly winner Ore Oduba opens up about a 30-year porn addiction that began at age nine.
- He hid the addiction out of deep shame rooted in childhood trauma and strict upbringing.
- Oduba lost his non-binary sibling and separated from his wife before seeking help.
- He’s speaking out to protect children from early exposure to porn online.
- His message highlights how silence and stigma can devastate families and mental health.
Strictly Star’s Silent Struggle: Porn Addiction and Years of Shame
TV darling and Strictly Come Dancing champ Ore Oduba is pulling back the curtain on a deeply personal battle that nearly swallowed his life whole. The usually upbeat presenter revealed that he spent 30 years wrestling with a porn addiction—one that began when he was just nine years old and haunted him well into adulthood.
Appearing on the “We Need to Talk” podcast, Oduba didn’t sugarcoat the crisis that lived in the shadows of his glittering TV career. Calling it an addiction that “dogged me for nearly 30 years,” he confessed it had been “destroying my life from the inside out.” What started as a moment of curiosity after being shown explicit content on a computer by a friend’s older brother turned into a long-term coping mechanism for childhood trauma.
Oduba, who turns 40 this month, described the moment his “eyes were opened,” saying the initial fascination quickly turned into something darker. “Whilst I wouldn’t say addiction set in immediately, the intrigue started immediately,” he shared.
A Childhood Wrapped in Fear and Silence
The real sting? Young Ore was carrying more than just curiosity—he was carrying fear. After a sibling was scolded at school for smoking, Oduba felt crushing shame he somehow absorbed as his own. That pressure escalated when a trip to Nigeria took a stern turn, with his father threatening to move the family back to raise them under stricter rules.
To survive emotionally, Oduba learned to act. “I was a master masker,” he admitted. Even at just ten years old, he understood this wasn’t the kind of topic families whispered about, let alone discussed openly. “Shameful, it’s so shameful,” he said of how society frames porn addiction. “We can’t talk about it because there is a perceived nature to it that is everything we hate, everything that we despise.”
That shame clung to him well into adulthood, silencing him from asking for help and pushing him deeper into secrecy. It wasn’t until 18 months ago that he broke free, marking his first year of what he calls “sobriety” in July.
Loss, Love, and a Wake-Up Call
Oduba’s journey to healing came at a staggering emotional cost. “It took me 30 years, two deaths, and a divorce to finally go: here’s what’s happening,” he revealed. Earlier this year, he experienced the heartbreaking loss of his non-binary sibling. He also separated from his wife Portia last year, marking a painful period of change that forced him to confront buried wounds.
Despite the heartbreak, he is using his voice to spark urgently needed conversations—especially as a parent. His children, Roman (7) and Genie (4), are growing up in a digital world where access to explicit content is only a tap away. Oduba highlighted how “60 per cent of children are finding it accidentally,” warning that without intervention, “children start self-educating” through harmful exposure.
Though Oduba’s experience is not LGBTQ-specific, the shame-driven silence he describes hits close to home for many queer people who grow up in environments where anything linked to sexuality is treated as taboo. The pressure to hide, pretend, or “mask” is familiar territory for LGBTQ youth who often learn early that some truths are “unspeakable.”
Addiction struggles—whether sexual, emotional, or digital—can affect anyone, but they often go unaddressed in queer spaces where mental health support still lacks visibility. Speaking openly about taboo addictions helps break the culture of secrecy that harms both straight and LGBTQ communities, especially those raised in conservative or culturally restrictive households.
By sharing his story, Oduba isn’t just helping parents rethink the conversation around porn—he’s modeling vulnerability that can open doors for LGBTQ youth and adults to acknowledge their own struggles without shame.