INSIDE BRITAIN'S GIRL GANGS

Walking home from the pub with two friends, Kelly Frazer* recognised the feeling bubbling inside her. She knew what she craved - and it wasn't a cigarette, a drink, or even drugs. It was violence.

Aged 23, Kelly was a hardened member of a street gang. Brawling was a daily necessity. If she didn't get her fighting fix, Kelly went looking for trouble - and anyone who crossed her path would do. So when she spotted a lone girl walking towards her and her friends, she knew she'd found her victim.

"She was the same age as us, and as she passed I decided she'd thrown us a funny look," remembers Kelly, now 26.

That was all she needed to fly into a sickening rage. "The next thing I knew I was hitting her in the face and kicking her to the ground," she says. "My two friends jumped in and the three of us began kicking and punching her. At first she was screaming and crying, but then she went still. There was blood coming from a cut on her head. A few minutes later we ran off, leaving her for dead.

"I remember my adrenaline pumping and feeling totally exhilarated," Kelly says. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. We were congratulating each other on a job well done. As far as we were concerned, she deserved it. She disrespected us."

Shocking? Yes. Unusual? Far from it. Kelly is one of a growing breed of vicious young women who turn to violence in a bid to gain social standing and acceptance. According to the latest Government statistics, one in four violent attacks now involve a female. In 2008, more than half a million assaults were either carried out by women or involved a female in a gang.

Previous studies have shown that boys are lured into gangs because they lack identity and a sense of belonging. Now it's young women who are being drawn into a world where mindless violence earns you respect.

Clinical psychologist, Dr Funke Baffour, explains: "In recent years, girls have seen the status and power given to male gang members and decided they want some of that. Being in a gang boosts the morale of these girls - many of whom are from broken homes without a mother or father figure.

"They have low self-esteem and confuse having self-respect with getting respect from others. To get into these gangs often requires people to commit an act of violence, but because there is a hierarchy and a jostling for position, these crimes become increasingly violent."

Last summer, the News of the World launched its high- profile Save Our Streets campaign to raise awareness of violent crime and tackle the causes. Much needed when you consider that the most recent figures put the number of gangs in London alone at 174, with three being exclusively female, while in Leeds the Hyde Park Crew, the Little London Crew and the CPT have a number of girls in them.

In June this year, the 17-year-old leader and a 16-year-old member of London gang Girls Over Men were jailed for a horrifying attack on a 16-year-old girl. They abducted their terrified victim off the street in Stratford, east London, at knifepoint, stripped her, then beat her with belt buckles for "disrespecting" the leader's mother. Later, the 16-year-old gang member was overheard telling inmates at the young offender's institution where she was being held that she should have got a male friend to rape her victim.

Not only are these attacks becoming more common, they are also often recorded on mobile phones then swiftly posted on networking sites or chat forums, so gang members can boast about them.

"Gangs offer security and protection," explains Chris Saed, a youth worker at Sulgrave Youth Club in London, which works with ex-gang members. "Being in a gang means you always have someone watching your back. If people aren't getting that support at home, they'll look elsewhere."

Until Kelly turned 14, she'd been an above-average pupil, who'd dreamed of a career in the music business. Then her parents split up and, struggling to cope, Kelly admits she went off the rails. What started out as rebellion resulted in her spending the next eight years terrorising south-east London. After playing truant, she fell in with a gang of girls and spent her days drinking cheap alcohol on the street.

Left to bring up Kelly and her sister alone, Kelly's mum, a doctor's receptionist, struggled to control her wayward daughter. "Mum pleaded with me to go to school," Kelly recalls. "My little sister would cry because we were rowing, but I didn't care. My mates were my family. If I needed money, they'd lend it to me. If I got into trouble with the police, I called them. All the other girls at school cared about were boys and clothes, but I was so angry inside about my parents, and they understood that. We all looked after and fought for each other. It was about being in a sisterhood."

But as Kelly soon found out, being in the sisterhood meant proving you were up for anything. She started shoplifting, but soon that wasn't enough.

"The older girls in the gang would hit others just for the hell of it, and I wanted to prove I was one of them. The first person I hit was a girl from another gang who went to my school. We were both trying to prove ourselves and a crowd gathered. I punched her three times in the head until she fell to the ground. Everyone cheered, and I felt great," she remembers.

"From then on it just got easier. I was always drunk when I attacked people and sometimes I robbed them at the same time - they were just targets. We'd go looking for fights ust for kicks. I never felt bad about it. The thrill of hitting someone helped me forget how desperate my home life was."

By the age of 16, Kelly had dropped out of school and was spending all her time on the streets.

"Dad had moved out of London. He'd given up trying to discipline me, but my mum and sister used to plead with me to stop. Mum couldn't lock me in the house though, and to be honest, she was probably scared of me. I was out of control."

Between the ages of 15 and 20, Kelly was arrested 15 times for assault and prosecuted on three of those occasions. But it didn't suppress her appetite for violence. Because of her age, she was simply sent to anger-management classes or given community service orders.

Kelly's reputation as a fighter grew, and people from other gangs began seeking her out to challenge her. She started carrying a kitchen knife in her handbag.

"One evening, when I was 18, this girl started hassling a friend of mine in a nightclub," she says. "I took out the knife and stabbed her twice in the arm. I remember seeing the blood but feeling totally justified. My friends all supported me. We ran away as someone threatened to call the police.

Kelly prided herself on being the hardest, most ruthless of her gang. "If I broke someone's nose or gave them a black eye, and came back with bleeding knuckles, it was a good night," she recalls. "People respected me. I could feel they were scared of me when I walked into a bar. It was a good feeling."

That is until that night three years ago, when Kelly and her two friends beat their unsuspecting victim half to death on the way home from the pub. After the initial buzz of the attack had worn off, Kelly felt disgusted at herself.

"It had never bothered me before, but for some reason what we'd done to that innocent girl really got to me. I remember thinking: 'Oh my God - what have I done?' I felt physically sick wondering if she was alive or dead," she says. "The three of us beat her to a pulp. I don't know what happened to her and that still haunts me now.

"Back home I washed my bloodied hands and realised I needed to sort myself out. Mum saw me and started crying, saying: "Is this what you want for your future? Do you want to end up in prison?'"

In that moment, Kelly decided to change her life. She cut all ties with her old gang members and stopped going out. She called her dad and told him she was desperate to change. He agreed to fund a business course at college.

Kelly says one of the most difficult things was persuading others she had turned her back on her old life.

"After I started college, I'd bump into people from my past, people who wanted to fight me to prove themselves. It was hard to convince them I wasn't into it any more."

In the last two years, Kelly has transformed her life. She's rebuilt her relationship with her mum, dad and sister. She trained as a recruitment consultant and now has a full-time job and a fiancé, James*, a surveyor, who she met through mutual friends. She told him about her past at the start of their relationship, and while he was initially shocked, he was also impressed at how determined she was to turn her life around. They recently moved in together.

Meanwhile, one of Kelly's old gang members has been sectioned, and another is in prison for GBH.

Kelly realises she is one of the lucky ones to have escaped with just a few scars as reminders of her past life.

"I hate myself for some of the things I did and the pain I caused other people," she says.

"Even now I'm paranoid that my past will come back to haunt me, and the police will turn up on my doorstep. I'll never go back to my old ways - in fact I don't recognise that person any more."

'BATTERED BUT I WON IN THE END'
Stephanie North, 17, is a hairdressing student from Manchester.

Stephanie's nose was broken by a girl gang

"I'd got to know a gang of girls through a friend and at first I thought they were fun, but then their agressive behaviour started to scare me.

Two sisters, Leanne*, 17, and Tracey*, 15, ruled the roost. The gang would drink and smoke, and a couple of times they attacked people. I tried to reason with them but they didn't want to know, so I decided to stop hanging round with them. That made me public enemy number one - if they saw me in the street they'd shout 'traitor' at me.

Then I heard they'd surrounded a man in the street and beaten him up. I was terrified I'd be next. Especially when Tracey followed me home from the youth club I always went to and taunted me that I couldn't avoid her forever.

I reported what had happened to youth-club workers. The gang was already barred so there wasn't much they could do. A few weeks later - in February 2008 - I was sitting at the computer in the youth club sending an email when I heard one of the youth workers shout 'Get out!'.

I turned around and there was Tracey and the gang. She punched me in the face, breaking my nose, and I screamed in pain as blood spurted everywhere. They fled as the police were called. I agreed to press charges - though I knew they'd come after me for it.

For a fortnight, I was too frightened to leave the house. When I did, to go to the local shop, they'd obviously been watching out for me. I saw Leanne and some of the others walking towards me. I started shaking, but I was determined not to let them see how scared I was.

Leanne shouted: 'If you take this to court you'll have us to deal with and you don't want that.'

I ran home and called the police. Leanne was charged with intimidating a witness and last May she was jailed for three months at Manchester Youth Court. Tracey was ordered to pay me £30 compensation.

I've had no trouble since the trial but I'm still scared. I have support from youth workers and police and I'm determined to get on with my life. I've just finished my first year of college, while working part-time as a hairdresser and volunteering at the youth club.

To anyone else facing intimidation, I'd say be brave and don't let them win."

WORDS: ANDREA THOMPSON PHOTOGRAPHY: JUSTIN GRIFFITS-WILLIAMS, REBECCA BRADBURY, REX HAIR & MAKE-UP: TALLY BOOKBINDER AT NEMESIS, SARA BOWDEN KELLY WEARS TOP, RIVER ISLAND; JEANS, PRIMARK *NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED

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