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How Coercive Control Undermines a Victim’s Ability to Make Decisions

By
Samara Knight
-
coercive control and decision-making

Domestic abuse isn’t always visible. Sometimes, it shows up in the way your words are dismissed, your preferences are laughed at, or your voice slowly fades from the decisions that shape your own life.

At the core of coercive control is power — the need to dominate another person’s choices, voice, and sense of self. For many victims, the most enduring wound is not a single traumatic event, but the quiet, cumulative loss of the ability to make decisions. And that loss doesn’t disappear when the relationship ends. It lingers in the everyday: choosing what to wear, what to eat, how to live.

When Decisions Are Made for You

When there is coercive control in a relationship, the most significant decisions — financial, legal, personal — are made unilaterally by the abuser. Victims are either deliberately excluded from the process or manipulated into compliance, often with no real opportunity to give or withhold consent.

This isn’t about occasional miscommunication. It’s about being deliberately sidelined, overruled, or overridden.

As one survivor shared, “My ex applied for a mortgage in both our names without ever discussing it with me. I only found out when the paperwork arrived to sign. It would have locked me into a 30-year financial tie to him — and to a life I hadn’t chosen.”

Another recalled, “He got a vasectomy without even mentioning it, secretly took out a loan for the equity of the house, started a business behind my back with my money — and ran it with the mistress.”

The effect is deeply destabilising. When your partner routinely makes major life decisions without you — or despite your objections — it sends the message that your voice doesn’t matter. The cumulative result is not just the loss of practical control over your life, but a shrinking of your sense of agency. You begin to internalise the idea that you’re not supposed to have a say.

Over time, this breeds confusion and helplessness. Many survivors describe feeling like passengers in their own lives, unable to steer the direction of their home, finances, or future.

Fear-Based Choices

Coercion is not always loud. It can be subtle, strategic, and persistent — a slow grind of pressure that wears down resistance over time. This might look like constant pestering, emotional guilt-tripping, or sly, underhanded remarks designed to manipulate rather than persuade.

One survivor described, “My ex and I had an argument that lasted 9 months. I said ‘no’ continuously; he would not give up. I finally couldn’t take it anymore. Later he said that I agreed with him. No, I was psychologically beaten into submission.”

Another shared, “I stopped making decisions that made me happy for the sake of keeping the peace. I dreaded seeing his name pop up because I was in this state of fear about what I’d done wrong now.”

When there is domestic abuse, saying “no” can feel dangerous — not necessarily because of direct threats, but because of what comes after: sulking, accusations, hours-long arguments, or emotional shutdowns. This constant pattern of punishment and protest conditions the victim to give in, not out of agreement, but to end the conflict.

The abuser may insist, “I’m just trying to talk it through,” but in reality, it’s a siege — an endless loop of pressure and emotional exhaustion. Decisions are no longer about what feels right, but about what feels safest.

Sometimes, though, the coercion is direct and unmistakable. It can take the form of veiled threats or outright intimidation — reminders that any resistance will come at a cost. One survivor recalled, “If I disagreed with him, he’d stand over me, clench his fists, and say, ‘You’re really going to make me do this?’ I always backed down. Every time.”

This kind of physical and verbal intimidation doesn’t just enforce compliance in the moment — it creates a long-term association between asserting your needs and being unsafe. Even when not directly threatened, the memory of those moments keeps future resistance in check.

Eventually, many victims begin to pre-empt what the abuser wants, making decisions based not on desire or instinct, but on self-protection. It becomes easier to avoid conflict than to hold your ground. And once fear starts guiding your choices, it’s no longer a decision — it’s survival.

Undermining Your Voice Through Shame and Gaslighting

Decision-making relies on one essential ingredient: self-trust. And in coercive control, that trust is slowly dismantled.

Abusers often ridicule, mock, or belittle their partner’s preferences and opinions. It’s rarely overt — more often it comes in the form of sarcastic remarks, eye rolls, or passive-aggressive “jokes.” Over time, these interactions leave victims feeling stupid, irrational, or incompetent.

One survivor wrote, “I had no idea what I even liked anymore! And I doubted decisions and constantly second guessed myself.”

Another added, “When your internal guide has been systematically tampered with or nearly destroyed, it’s an uphill battle to trust your own decisions.”

Abusers may frame their criticism as concern:

  • “I just don’t think that’s a good idea — you always get these things wrong.”
  • “You’re so emotional. Just calm down and let me handle it.”

These kinds of comments reinforce the belief that the victim’s judgment is flawed. Eventually, they begin outsourcing decisions to the abuser because they’ve come to believe they’re not capable.

This erosion of confidence doesn’t just affect the relationship. It bleeds into every part of life. Survivors often struggle to make even simple choices after leaving — unsure whether their preferences are valid, or whether they’ll be punished again for getting it “wrong.”

The Illusion of Choice

Control doesn’t always come from force. Sometimes it’s about keeping someone in the dark.

Abusers may deliberately withhold key information until a decision is irreversible — or they’ll offer meaningless choices to create the illusion of collaboration while keeping real control out of reach.

One survivor said, “Oh, he asked my opinion on refinancing the house — three options, and he chose the one directly opposite of what I preferred. Then I had no choice but to sign the papers.”

Another added, “He made it look like I had a say by asking me to pick the curtain colour — but he already bought the house.”

These dynamics are deeply disorienting. You’re made to feel included, but nothing you say actually changes the outcome. Your “yes” is manufactured through strategic omission, selective information, or pre-determined results. Over time, this trains victims to disengage. If their input never matters, why offer it? And with each ignored preference, they retreat a little further from their own voice.

Pressure, Urgency, and No Room to Reconsider

Healthy decision-making involves time, reflection, and the freedom to change your mind. In coercive control, those freedoms don’t exist.

Victims are often pressured to make quick decisions — usually under emotional duress — and then locked into them, even if they later express doubt or discomfort.

One survivor described: “You are not allowed to make one decision. Ask a question. Only communicate through text. And know nothing. They gaslight you to take focus off their actions.”

Another added: “I ended up utterly demoralised by constantly having to fight for a say in any decision and still usually being invalidated or condescended to.”

This sense of urgency is often manufactured. Abusers set artificial deadlines or create high-stress moments designed to overwhelm. One survivor recalled, “I was cooking dinner and my husband told me we needed to decide then and there if we were going to purchase a particular house. I told him I couldn’t decide in that moment, and he said, ‘Ok then, if you can’t decide now, I will just make the decision for myself.’”

This type of pressure sends a clear message: if you can’t keep up, you’ll be left out. It turns decision-making into a race against the abuser’s impatience. There’s no room to pause, no tolerance for uncertainty, and certainly no acceptance of changing your mind. Even simple changes of heart are met with contempt:

  • “You said yes — now you’re going to change your mind again?”
  • “You’re being dramatic. We already agreed.”

Over time, this creates deep anxiety around expressing needs or asking for time to think. Many victims learn that it’s easier — and safer — to stay quiet than to risk being mocked, rushed, or steamrolled again.

Relearning How to Make Decisions in Recovery

Leaving the relationship doesn’t immediately restore someone’s confidence. In fact, many survivors find the aftermath even more disorienting. After years of being silenced or overridden, they no longer know what they want — or how to trust their ability to choose.

One survivor shared, “After I left him, suddenly I was faced with decisions I had never had to make before because he had always decided everything for me… I had to relearn how to make choices for myself, which was both terrifying and freeing.”

Another wrote, “I grieved for the years I felt I wasted trying to make the relationship work… but I embraced the freedom of finally being able to make decisions without criticism.”

Rebuilding this capacity is a slow, emotional process. It often begins with the basics: choosing meals, trying new clothes, setting boundaries. Small decisions become acts of self-definition. And with each one, the survivor begins to reconnect with the part of them that was buried.

“I can think about what I want and especially what I need, make my own decisions and mistakes,” one woman explained. “I can enjoy the simple things in life. I now have the space to get to know me in all my imperfections.”

This stage can feel scary — but it’s also where healing begins.

Supporting Survivors with the Decisions They Make

If you’re supporting someone who’s healing from coercive control, the most powerful thing you can do is not make decisions for them. Even well-meaning advice can feel like another form of control.

One survivor offered this: “Don’t tell them what they need to do. They have enough of that already. Let them know you see them and will support them no matter what. Help them to feel like they have the ability to make decisions and take some control for themself.”

What survivors need most is space — to explore, to stumble, to experiment with using their own voice again. Offer curiosity instead of direction. Validate their hesitation. Respect their timing. This isn’t about giving them the right answer — it’s about helping them believe they’re allowed to find their own, even if that means making mistakes along the way.

If you’re walking alongside someone in recovery, remember that healing begins when theyrealise the right to choose is theirs again.

Featured image: Coercive control undermines decision-making. Source: Dragana Gordic / Adobe Stock.

New UK Domestic Abuse Orders Empower Third Parties to Act — A Lifeline for Silent Victims

By
Samara Knight
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UK domestic abuse orders

A major shift in the UK’s response to domestic abuse has quietly taken root, with the launch of new Domestic Abuse Protection Orders (DAPOs) designed to close dangerous legal gaps and offer earlier, stronger protection to victims. The new orders are currently being trialled in select police forces across the country and could mark a pivotal moment in how society intervenes in coercive and violent relationships.

What Are DAPOs and How Do They Work?

Under the Domestic Abuse Act 2021, the UK government introduced a new two-stage protection system comprising Domestic Abuse Protection Notices (DAPNs) and the longer-term Domestic Abuse Protection Orders (DAPOs). These powers allow police and courts to intervene even when there is insufficient evidence for criminal charges.

According to The Guardian, DAPNs can be issued by police immediately to provide urgent safety, while DAPOs—applied for within 48 hours—can be enforced across civil, family, and criminal courts. Unlike older mechanisms such as non-molestation orders, DAPOs can include a broad range of conditions tailored to each case, including:

  • Prohibiting contact with the victim or their children
  • Exclusion from specified locations
  • Wearing a GPS tag
  • Mandating participation in drug, alcohol, or behavioural rehabilitation

Critically, DAPOs are not limited to 28 days like previous orders and can last much longer depending on the case, with breaches carrying criminal penalties of up to five years in prison. Additionally, family courts now have the power to impose GPS tagging on high-risk offenders for up to 12 months—a measure that was previously limited to police or criminal courts.

The pilot was rolled out in late 2024 and early 2025 across police forces including Greater Manchester, Croydon, Cleveland Police, North Wales, and British Transport Police. In Cleveland, where the scheme began in March, over 40 DAPOs have already been issued.

A Quiet Revolution: Third-Party Applications Now Allowed

Perhaps the most transformative element of the pilot scheme is the allowance for third-party applications. As BBC News reports, friends, family members, or professionals such as support workers or healthcare providers can now apply for a DAPO on behalf of a victim.

This development could be life-saving. Victims of domestic abuse often don’t report out of fear—fear of being disbelieved, losing their children, or triggering further violence from the perpetrator. Allowing a trusted third party to act breaks this paralysis.

Why Victims Often Can’t Report Abuse

Many survivors do not recognise coercive control for what it is until years into the relationship. Control over finances, who they can see, what they wear, and even how they think or feel can be subtle and hard to describe.

Others do understand the danger but feel powerless to act. According to Women’s Aid, up to 85% of domestic abuse victims never contact the police, and emotional and psychological abuse often goes entirely unreported.

There’s also the reality of trauma bonding, shame, and isolation. Victims may rationalise their partner’s behaviour, especially in cases without visible physical violence. Third-party intervention helps bridge this gap between perception and protection.

Jess Phillips, the Minister for Safeguarding and Violence Against Women and Girls, said the new measures were intended to be far more effective than the previous orders, which victims and advocates frequently described as being disregarded without consequence.

What’s Next?

The Ministry of Justice will evaluate the effectiveness of the pilot over the next two years. If successful, the orders could be rolled out nationally. Legal experts have praised the framework for streamlining protective measures and removing the bureaucratic hurdles that previously hindered quick, decisive action.

Campaigners warn, however, that implementation must be matched by robust training. Police officers, judges, and professionals must understand the nuances of coercive control and psychological abuse to apply the powers appropriately.

Nevertheless, these changes signal a long-overdue recognition of how domestic abuse operates in the real world—where silence is often survival and help must come from those watching, not just those suffering.

Featured image: New UK domestic abuse orders help victims. Source: cherryandbees / Adobe Stock.

New Research Shows Domestic Violence Often Starts with Isolation and Control

By
Samara Knight
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domestic violence isolation and control

When it comes to domestic violence, cases involving catastrophic physical violence are the ones that most often make it into the media.

But our new research shows there are often signs of trouble long before such tragic outcomes – before couples move in together or get married.

We asked a large group of women about how domestic violence (also known as intimate partner violence) they’d experienced had started and escalated.

A general pattern emerged. First came psychological abuse, then physical abuse, then sexual abuse.

So if women, health workers and others can recognise the signs of psychological abuse early on, there’s a chance to intervene before abusive behaviour progresses.

How does this relate to coercive control?

The types of psychological abuse women told us about indicate they’d experienced coercive control.

Coercive control is defined as a pattern of restrictive, manipulative and dominating behaviours used to undermine a partner’s autonomy and freedom. While it can occur in any type of relationship, it is most commonly perpetrated by men against women partners and is underpinned by inequitable gender roles and misogynistic attitudes.

Another way of describing coercive control is a pattern of behaviours that aim to prevent a partner from being in charge of their life. For instance, this could mean controlling who a partner can see, what they can wear, or where they can go. Or it could mean questioning a partner’s sanity when they raise concerns about abusive behaviour.

There’s been growing awareness of the impact of coercive control and domestic violence more broadly on women’s health and wellbeing. There’s also growing awareness that coercive control can escalate to catastrophic abuse against women and children, including homicide.

So, Australian states and territories have scrambled to tackle the issue legally. Queensland recently joined New South Wales in making coercive control a standalone criminal offence.

What we did and what we found

We wanted to know more about the progression of domestic violence and if there were key stages to intervene to help prevent the worst harms.

So we surveyed a nationally representative sample of 815 Australian women who had experienced domestic violence in the past five years and asked them to create a timeline of their relationship.

Women started with the earliest warning signs that something was wrong and then added what happened around important life events, such as moving in together, having children, seeking help or leaving. Women could describe their experiences in their own words.

When we analysed all the timelines together, we created a summary of the general sequence of abuse over time.

First, there were attacks to a survivor’s mind, then her physical body, then her sexual self.

Psychological abuse an early sign

Psychological abuse was present in almost all relationships early in the timeline. It usually emerged before moving in together or getting married.

The earliest indicator of abuse was being isolated from others, as one woman said: “He stopped me from talking to male colleagues.”

Controlling a woman’s day-to-day activities happened next. One survivor told us how her money and car were used against her: “He kept my belongings from me […] to prevent me from leaving.”

Then, as one woman said, there was other emotional abuse: “If I said anything he didn’t like, a brick wall would be erected […] I wouldn’t be spoken to for two to three days.”

Another said: “He called me crazy when he had done something wrong.”

On average, women told us physically abusive behaviours first appeared after a major life commitment, such as marriage or moving in together.

In general, sexual abuse by a partner first emerged after the psychological and physical abuse started.

For survivors who had a child during the relationship and whose partner was sexually abusive, the worst of that sexual violence generally came sometime after giving birth.

For many survivors, a growing concern about the impact of abuse on their children occurred around the same time as leaving their relationship and trying to get help.

What next?

This research sets out clear opportunities for prevention and early intervention.

We need to train health professionals to look for signs and ask about psychological abuse when their patients are contemplating life transitions. This includes raising awareness and targeted resources for staff working in pregnancy care.

Future research should see if these patterns of abuse apply in different diverse groups of survivors.

We also need better community education, particularly for young women, about the features of psychological abuse that occur early in relationships, before physical and sexual abuse.

As one participant told us: “More domestic violence campaigns should focus on emotional abuse. We focus so much on the physical, but I can feel immediately when I am hit. It takes longer to feel gaslighting, manipulation and other emotionally heavy abuse. It lingers with you. It alters the way you think and traps you far worse than the physical does”

This article, originally titled ‘‘He stopped me from talking to male colleagues’: new research shows how domestic violence so often starts with isolation and control’ by Elizabeth McLindon and Kelsey Hegarty was originally published on The Conversation and has been republished under a Creative Commons license.

Featured image: Domestic violence often starts with isolation and control. Source: AI generated / Adobe Stock.

Family Law Changes Will Better Protect Domestic Violence Victims – And Their Pets

By
Samara Knight
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domestic violence laws protect pets

Welcome changes to family law come into effect this week in Australia to better support victims of domestic violence in property settlements.

Importantly, the Family Law Amendment Bill 2024 will provide a new framework for determining ownership of the family pet in divorce and separation proceedings. Pets will no longer be recognised merely as property, but as “companion animals”.

Family law courts must now consider animal abuse, including threats to harm pets, when deciding which partner is awarded ownership.

Research suggests up to 15% of all animal cruelty cases involve domestic violence offending. Therefore, the new laws will provide some relief to partners whose beloved pets have suffered abuse.

Part of the family

Australia has high pet ownership, with 69% of households owning an animal companion. Some 48% have dogs and 33% have cats.

For victims of violence, the bond with their pet is very important for emotional support. Because of this attachment, abusers often target animals as one of the ways to control their victims.

Disturbing research has found animals living in violent households may be kicked, punched, held by their ears, thrown and poisoned. Injuries are common. Pets can be killed.

When a person experiences family violence in their home, they are often asked “Why don’t you just leave?” The reasons are complicated. Perpetrators of coercive control can make their victims fearful for their own safety and their children’s – and for the safety and wellbeing of their pets.

If victims do leave an abusive relationship, family pets are often left behind because it is too hard to find suitable accommodation. Also, the pet may be registered in the name of the abuser.

Court’s past view of pets

Previously, if a victim asked for ownership of their pet, courts could not consider the animal’s safety or wellbeing.

In Australian family law, pets were viewed as personal property, similar to other possessions such as cars, furniture and electronic equipment.

In any dispute about pets, courts would consider the following:

  • who paid for it?
  • was it a gift?
  • whose name is on the ownership documents?
  • who has possession?
  • who paid the expenses?

In deciding custody, courts were not thinking about where the pet would be out of harm’s way. Instead the focus was on who had the superior right to title, a common question in personal property law.

The safety and survival of a dog or cat was irrelevant in decision-making.

Hope on the horizon

Many Australians do not view pets as just another item of personal property. They see them as treasured family members who should be protected.

The amended Family Law Act redefines pets as companion animals, rather than as mere property. The shift recognises the deep emotional attachments between pets and their owners.

Any species of animal owned by a couple as a companion will be covered under the new sections of the Act. However, disputes in family law are more commonly about dogs.

When a marriage or de facto relationship breaks down, the court will consider any past cruelty towards a pet when deciding future ownership.

Matters for consideration will include:

  • was there family violence?
  • was there animal abuse, actual or threatened?
  • who has ownership or possession of the animal?
  • is there any attachment by an adult or child to the animal?
  • how much did each person in the household care for the animal?

Courts will only be able to assign ownership to one party. There will be no joint custody to prevent ongoing disputes over the ownership of the pet.

If an abused partner is confident they would be allowed to keep their companion animal if they leave a violent relationship, there is a greater chance they will seek safety.

If a victim has fled to accommodation where they cannot keep their pet, the new laws will allow for a court order to transfer the animal to another person. A safe person.

The sentience of animals – their ability to feel pain and fear – is still not recognised in Australian family law.

Nevertheless, this week’s changes should lead to large numbers of companion animals gaining protection from future abuse.

Financial abuse may constitute family violence

Other changes to family law also come in to force this week.

Family law courts must consider the economic effects of family violence on the victim when making decisions about property and finances after separation.

Critically, the definition of family violence is being broadened. It will now include economic or financial abuse-related conduct, such as sabotaging the victim’s employment, forcibly controlling their money or forcing them to go into debt.

Not paying child support for a long time might also count. Intentionally damaging a property to reduce its value will also be in the equation.

There will also be greater protections to prevent the misuse of sensitive information that arise from confidential conversations with healthcare professionals, or with specialist support services.

The property changes will apply to all new and existing proceedings, except where a final hearing has already commenced.

These reforms to better protect victim-survivors of family violence and the animals they love, are long overdue.

The article Family law changes will better protect domestic violence victims – and their pets by Meri Oakwood was originally published on The Conversation and has been republished under a Creative Commons license.

Featured image: New laws protect pets in domestic violence cases. Source: olezzo / Adobe Stock.

Anger After Abuse Isn’t Destructive – It’s Healing

By
Samara Knight
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anger after abuse

Anger has long been framed as a “negative” emotion and something to suppress. Survivors of abuse are often told to stay calm, be rational, and try to forgive if they want to move on. But there are many emotions that can arise in the aftermath of abuse, such as rage, fury, and grief. What happens when those emotions are seen as wrong or shameful? For many survivors, giving themselves permission to feel angry becomes an essential part of healing.

Anger is not the enemy; it’s a messenger and a sign that a boundary has been crossed. Anger is a part of you screaming, “That was not okay.”

Many survivors who accepted feeling anger as part of their process after abuse have described their experiences. One said, “It wasn’t until I let myself feel the anger that I stopped trying to make sense of it all. I was finally able to name what happened as abuse” and another person added, “I spent years trying to forgive too soon. What I needed was to feel angry, to feel all of it, before I could even begin to heal.”

Why Anger Is Often Suppressed After Abuse

Many survivors were conditioned, long before the abuse began, to downplay their emotions. Women especially are taught that expressing anger makes them “difficult” or “ungrateful.” In abusive relationships, this belief gets weaponized. Survivors are gaslit into believing their reactions are the problem—not the harm itself.

“I wasn’t even allowed to be upset,” one person shared. “If I cried or looked angry, he’d mock me or threaten to leave. So I just went numb.”

Another shared, “My abusive ex would regularly go into rages, but if I showed even the slightest hint of anger, he’d call me crazy, insane, or mentally unstable. I learnt to shut down my anger because it was the safest option.”

This emotional suppression creates an internal pressure that builds over time, until it either implodes in depression or erupts in delayed rage.

The Double Standard Around Survivor Anger

When survivors speak with sadness or pain, they’re often met with empathy. But when they speak with anger—they’re usually met with discomfort, disapproval, or silence.

“When I finally told someone I was furious about what he did, they told me I needed to let it go. But I hadn’t even had space to feel it yet,” one woman said.

Someone else shared, “People don’t know what to do with angry survivors. But if they’d lived through what we did, they’d be angry too.”

This double standard reflects a societal discomfort with victim power. When survivors reclaim their voice through anger, they disrupt the narrative that they are broken, fragile, or passive victims.

Anger as a Sign of Healing

Contrary to the belief that anger is a step backward, many trauma therapists see it as a sign of recovery. In the early stages of abuse, many survivors blame themselves. Anger often signals the moment they begin to shift that blame outward—toward the person that harmed them.

“The first time I allowed myself to say, ‘He hurt me on purpose,’ I cried for hours. But they weren’t sad tears—they were angry ones. And they were freeing,” one survivor wrote.

Another said, “It was only when I got angry that I stopped trying to fix him and started protecting myself.”

Anger can help with reclaiming dignity. It affirms that what happened wasn’t okay. It moves the survivor from confusion to clarity—and often to action.

Give Yourself Permission to Feel Your Emotions

For many people, it can be difficult to allow themselves to feel angry without guilt. Especially for those raised in religious or cultural environments that equate anger with sin or “being bad,” this can be deeply challenging. But every human emotion is valid—including rage.

One person reflected how their views on feeling anger changed following abuse, “I grew up thinking anger was unholy. But now I think not feeling it was the real harm.” Another person echoed how they needed to shift their perspective on this emotion, saying “I had to learn that anger wasn’t a failure of healing. It was the healing.”

Whether it’s writing an unsent letter, screaming into a pillow, hitting a punching bag, running it out on a treadmill, or simply telling a friend, “I’m mad as hell”—expressing anger safely and consciously is a powerful step toward recovery.

When Anger Feels Scary

For some survivors, anger brings up fear. Either because it reminds them of their abuser’s violence or because they worry they’ll become “just like them.” But survivor anger, grounded in truth, is not the same as abusive rage. One is about harm. The other is about healing.

“I was afraid that if I felt the anger, I’d become someone else,” one survivor said. “But I didn’t. I became more me than I’d been in years.” Another added, “His anger destroyed. Mine restored.”

Anger doesn’t mean lashing out or hurting others. It can be a deeply private, reflective, and cathartic experience. It’s not about revenge—it’s about release.

Transforming Anger into Strength

Once anger has been acknowledged and expressed, many survivors channel it into purpose. They advocate. They write. They protect others.

“My anger got me out,” said one woman. “But it also got me through.”
Another survivor shared, “I used to feel guilty about being angry. Now I see it was my inner protector all along.”

When survivors stop apologizing for their anger, they may discover that the emotion provides a new source of strength to take action. The same fire that once burned in silence becomes a light that guides them forward.

Experiencing anger after abuse isn’t something to fear. It’s something to honor. It’s the part of you that never accepted mistreatment, that rises up no matter what has tried to silence it. Feeling anger doesn’t mean you’re stuck in the past —it can be a sign that you’re healing. And when someone who’s healing from abuse identifies their feelings of anger and allow themselves space to experience that emotion in a safe way, peace often follows.

Featured Image: Feeling angry after abuse is normal and it’s healthy to work through that emotion. Source: stokkete / Adobe Stock

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

New Report Reveals Ireland’s Family Courts Are Failing Domestic Abuse Victims

By
Samara Knight
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family law court failing abuse victims

Survivors of domestic abuse are being retraumatised by the very system meant to protect them, according to a major new study commissioned by Women’s Aid and conducted by Trinity College Dublin and University College Cork. Drawing on the experiences of over 400 survivors, the research paints a grim picture of Ireland’s family court system—one that too often overlooks ongoing abuse, fails to prioritise safety, and reinforces coercive control through legal processes.

“It is one of the worst things I’ve ever been through. Ever,” one survivor reported. “I sometimes put it down as worse than some of the things that he did, because of what resulted from it.”

A Stage for the Abuse to Continue

Describing their time in family law proceedings, survivors used words like “relentless,” “horrific,” and “retraumatising.” In many cases, the abuse didn’t end with separation—it evolved. The court process, rather than offering relief, became a new battleground where abusers weaponised the legal system to maintain control.

“It’s essentially a stage for the abuse to continue,” one survivor in the study shared.

According to the report, 92% of survivors said the abuse either began or worsened after separation and during court proceedings. Patterns of coercive control, emotional abuse, and financial abuse frequently escalated during this period. Victims described being manipulated through repeat summons, adjournments, and court-ordered access that enabled intimidation.

Court-Ordered Contact as a Tool of Coercive Control

A central finding was that court-ordered access often put survivors and their children in harm’s way. In trying to comply with legal requirements, victims were forced into ongoing contact with their abuser—what Women’s Aid called “court-sanctioned opportunities for further abuse.”

Sarah Benson, CEO of Women’s Aid, said on RTÉ’s Morning Ireland that survivors were being “required to regularly engage with their abuser,” sometimes leading to fresh harm or trauma. She added that this reflected a “completely inadequate” system that assumes abuse ends once a relationship does.

Parental Alienation Accusations Undermine Protective Parents

A troubling theme was the widespread misuse of the term parental alienation, often weaponised against protective parents—primarily mothers—who raised safety concerns. Instead of their fears being acknowledged, they were accused of manipulating their children or undermining the father’s role.

The research found that in many cases, judges and assessors failed to meaningfully consider the possibility of domestic abuse, instead accepting parental alienation claims without sufficient scrutiny. As Benson stated to RTÉ, “this was especially evident in the reported experiences of court-appointed assessors,” who often lacked adequate training in recognising coercive control or post-separation abuse.

The report found that children’s views were frequently dismissed or ignored altogether. Many expressed fear about visits with the abusive parent, yet their perspectives were sidelined.

Despite expressing discomfort, many children were compelled to maintain contact due to court mandates. Survivors said their children felt unsafe and unheard, reinforcing the perception that the family law process prioritised the rights of the perpetrator over the wellbeing of victims.

A Call for Urgent Reform in Family Law

The new research exposes a family law system out of step with the reality of domestic abuse. A significant proportion of cases involve ongoing abuse, yet professionals across the system—from judges to legal practitioners—are often unequipped to recognise or respond to it.

Sarah Benson noted, “What we are particularly appalled by is the finding that adult victim-survivors of domestic abuse navigating the system for matters of guardianship, custody, and access describe the experience as relentless, overwhelmingly negative and retraumatising, with some saying that it became ‘even worse than the abuse’.” [via The Journal].

Women’s Aid is calling for a domestic abuse-informed overhaul of Ireland’s family justice system. This includes mandatory training in coercive control, improved legal representation, and a shift away from blanket assumptions that separation ends the abuse.

Experts Demand a Domestic Abuse-Informed Justice System

Professor Stephanie Holt of Trinity College, the lead researcher on the report, described the family court system as “fundamentally flawed” in its response to abuse. She called for systemic reform that places the safety and voices of both adult and child survivors at the centre of legal decision-making.

As pressure mounts, the Department of Justice has reaffirmed its commitment to reform through the Family Justice Strategy 2022–2025 and the Family Courts Act 2024. But campaigners stress that unless those reforms are deeply informed by the lived realities of domestic abuse survivors, the system will continue to retraumatise those it should be protecting.

Featured image: Family law courts are failing domestic abuse victims. Source: IBEX.Media / Adobe Stock.

The Hidden Pain of Not Being Believed After Domestic Abuse

By
Samara Knight
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not being believed after abuse

Leaving an abusive relationship is one of the hardest steps a person can make. It requires extraordinary bravery to walk away from someone who controlled, manipulated, or hurt you—especially when fear and affection are so deeply tangled. But for many people who make that brave decision, the heartbreak doesn’t end with freedom. Instead, they face something just as devastating: not being believed after abuse.

This second form of betrayal doesn’t come from the person who harmed them—it often comes from those they expected to offer support: friends, family members, co-workers, professionals, or even entire communities. And the emotional damage it causes runs just as deep.

Reaching for support, but met with blame

After breaking away from abuse, survivors often want to share their stories and begin to make sense of their experiences. But when they are met with denial or judgment, the emotional impact can be jarring.

One survivor shared, “After being able to share some of what it was like, hoping for some comfort, my stepmother said, ‘I told you not to move in with him.’”

Another recalled, “My mom said, ‘He must’ve really been upset when he got fired from his job,’ as if that was a good reason to abuse me.”

While these remarks may seem harmless or even caring to the speaker, they can feel like echoes of the abuse for the survivor. They invalidate what happened and often mirror the gaslighting or deflection used by the abuser. For someone not being believed after abuse, these responses deepen the trauma.

The pain of being dismissed and misjudged

Even after escaping, survivors may find that the harm doesn’t stop. This time, it’s not physical or verbal abuse—it’s disbelief, downplaying, or denial of what they’ve endured.

Phrases like “It wasn’t that bad” or “Sorry things didn’t work out” might sound polite, but to the survivor, they can feel like another round of gaslighting.

One survivor recalled, “I can’t believe you left him; he was such a good man,” repeating the kind of denial they’d already endured in the relationship. Another said, “You should’ve said something sooner,” a phrase that shifts blame onto the survivor rather than acknowledging the complexity and fear that kept them silent.

These reactions breed shame and uncertainty, leaving survivors isolated and unsupported—especially harmful when they’ve already struggled with not being believed after abuse.

When disbelief becomes a wound of its own

Being met with disbelief isn’t just disappointing—it can create lasting emotional scars. When someone who’s escaped an abusive situation begins to doubt their own memory, their sense of reality, or their right to feel hurt, recovery becomes much harder.

“My own mother had the audacity to say I must have liked the abuse,” said one woman. “I love her from a distance now… I don’t have to put up with her mental abuse either.”

“I have several friends who still don’t fully comprehend how bad or dangerous it all was for me,” one woman said. “That made me doubt my own experiences at a vulnerable time when I was still getting over being gaslit by him.”

Another survivor shared, “The cop I reported to said, ‘You’re just making this up,’ after doing zero investigation.”

These aren’t isolated stories. For many, the experience of not being believed after abuse happens repeatedly—eroding the fragile ground they’re trying to stand on.

When systems that promise safety fall short

It’s deeply painful when friends and family don’t listen. But when professionals dismiss your trauma, it can be downright traumatic. Survivors are often told to trust these services. They’re promised safety. But when those same systems ignore them, the betrayal cuts even deeper.

One woman said, “I told the therapist what he did, and she asked me what I had done to trigger him. I never went back.”

Another shared, “My child told the judge he was scared of his dad. I tried to protect him, but they said I was alienating him. Then they gave full custody to the man he was afraid of.”

Another recalled reporting a strangulation incident: “The cop never investigated and just said I was making it up.”

For anyone not being believed after abuse, this kind of institutional disbelief reinforces the trauma. It tells survivors their truth doesn’t matter—and that no one will help.

Why it’s easier for some to deny than accept

People often find it easier to dismiss or question a survivor’s account than to accept that someone they know could be abusive. Many people still believe abuse must be loud, visible, or physical—and they struggle to recognize coercive or emotional abuse when it doesn’t fit those expectations.

“There’s this idea that abuse has to look like bruises and black eyes,” one survivor said. “But for me, it was the constant erosion of self-worth. When I talked about it, people looked at me like I was overreacting.”

Another added, “I wish people knew how many of us look ‘fine’ on the outside. How many of us smiled through hell.”

When others choose the easier version of the story—the one that denies abuse—they leave survivors bearing the full weight of not being believed after abuse.

The dangerous road back

One of the most harmful consequences of being dismissed is that many survivors end up returning to their abuser. Not because they wanted to—but because they were isolated, shamed, and made to feel their experiences weren’t real or serious.

“Real support can be felt,” one survivor said. “A lot head back to their abuser because they didn’t get support—they got reprimanded and invalidated.”

Another echoed the heartbreak of this cycle: “I left once and no one believed me—not even my closest friend. I started wondering if I was overreacting. So I went back. And things got worse.”

When survivors are met with disbelief, they’re left carrying the trauma alone. That silence can become overwhelming—and sometimes, dangerous.

Restoring belief, one voice at a time

Recovering from abuse is already a long and painful journey. But trying to heal while also coping with not being believed after abuse adds a heavy layer of grief. Survivors must look for new sources of support and affirmation—often in therapy, survivor groups, or anonymous spaces online.

“I wish someone had just said, ‘I believe you,’” one person said. “Those three words could have changed everything.”

Another said, “Quiet support. No questions, no judgment, but understanding, acceptance, acknowledgment… that’s what I needed.”

These moments of being believed are powerful. They help survivors reconnect with their truth and slowly rebuild what abuse and disbelief tried to destroy.

Not being believed after abuse is a profound and painful betrayal. But by listening with compassion, by choosing to trust survivors without judgment, we can help stop this secondary wound. And for those who’ve already lived it, know this: your story matters, your pain is real, and you never needed anyone’s permission to protect yourself or choose what was right for you.

Featured image: When victims are not believed. Source: fizkes / Adobe Stock.

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

Queensland Says ‘Enough’: Coercive Control Now a Criminal Offense Under Hannah’s Law

By
Samara Knight
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coercive control in Queensland

In a historic move to combat domestic abuse, the state of Queensland in Australia has officially criminalised coercive control — a pattern of controlling and abusive behaviour that often precedes domestic homicide. The legislation, known as Hannah’s Law, came into effect on May 26, 2025, and carries a maximum penalty of 14 years’ imprisonment.

Named in honour of Hannah Clarke and her three children, who were murdered by her estranged husband in 2020, the law marks a turning point in how Australia responds to non-physical domestic violence. Hannah’s death, which shocked the nation, has since become a symbol of the silent suffering many endure behind closed doors.

Lloyd Clarke, Hannah’s father, said it was vital to recognize the many sacrifices made throughout the journey — not just by his family — as those efforts have made it possible to hold future abusers accountable.

What Is Coercive Control?

Coercive control refers to repeated abusive behaviours — emotional, psychological, financial, or technological — intended to dominate, isolate, or instil fear in a partner. Under the new Queensland law, these behaviours are now officially recognised as a serious criminal offense when used in the context of domestic relationships.

Nadia Bromley, CEO of Women’s Legal Service Queensland, emphasized the significance of this shift: “For a long time, we’ve known that coercive control underpins a lot of domestic family violence,” she said [via SBS]. “This change today is about recognising that coercive control is a very serious form of domestic violence.”

While coercive control does not always involve physical violence, its effects can be equally, if not more, devastating. Victims often experience long-term trauma, anxiety, depression — and in too many cases, the abuse ends in homicide. A review in New South Wales found that 97 percent of intimate partner homicides were preceded by coercive control.

A Global Shift Against Invisible Abuse

As Queensland joins New South Wales in criminalising coercive control, the push for legal reform is gaining traction globally. The United Kingdom and Ireland have already made coercive control a criminal offense, recognising that controlling behaviours can be deadly even in the absence of physical violence.

New South Wales was the first Australian state to pass coercive control legislation, with the law taking effect in July 2024. Like Queensland’s reforms, it followed years of advocacy, high-profile tragedies, and growing awareness that domestic abuse often begins long before the first act of physical violence.

The legislation in Queensland was first introduced to Parliament in 2023, following recommendations from the Women’s Safety and Justice Taskforce. It applies to abusive behaviours occurring on or after May 26, 2025, and is backed by bipartisan support.

Amanda Camm, Queensland’s Minister for the Prevention of Domestic and Family Violence, described coercive control as the “underpinning dynamic” of abuse: “It can include physical and non-physical forms of abuse and creates a climate of fear, humiliation, isolation, that over time, erodes the victim’s sense of identity, freedom and independence [via Women’s Agenda].”

Technology and the Changing Face of Abuse

Frontline workers have embraced the new law, describing it as a long-needed step forward. Adam Beck, area manager at Centacare’s domestic violence service on the Sunshine Coast, noted that patterns of controlling behaviour frequently precede lethal violence. He explained that abusers often manipulate what they know about their victims to instil fear or maintain control, rather than relying on any fixed set of tactics.

Modern technology has further complicated the issue. Research by the eSafety Commission revealed alarming attitudes toward digital surveillance in relationships: nearly a quarter of Australians think it’s acceptable to demand a partner’s phone passwords, and 13 percent agree it’s reasonable to track them via location apps. Perpetrators have also used children to gain access to private information, including passwords and surveillance during video calls.

Hannah’s Family Leads the Change

Sue Clarke, Hannah’s mother, said her daughter hadn’t recognized the danger she was in:
“If knowing about coercive control could save someone’s life, we’d be willing to share our story a thousand times over [via SBS].”

Since Hannah’s murder, her parents have become relentless advocates, establishing the Small Steps 4 Hannah foundation to raise awareness and educate Australians on the dangers of coercive control. Their campaigning helped push this law across the finish line, ensuring other victims may receive protection before it’s too late.

Queensland Attorney-General Deb Frecklington described the new legislation as a major move toward greater justice and protection, highlighting that the coercive control laws, backed by bipartisan support, will strengthen efforts to hold abusers accountable.

However, experts warn that the law’s success will depend on education and proper implementation. Some advocates have raised concerns about the risk of misidentification, particularly for women who may be incorrectly identified as perpetrators when acting in self-defense. Training for police, legal professionals, and support workers is essential to ensure the law protects the people it was designed for.

As coercive control continues to gain recognition worldwide, Queensland’s new law adds momentum to the broader global movement. The law, born of tragedy, now stands as a symbol of change — not just in memory of Hannah Clarke and her children, but for every survivor who was never believed, and for those still living in silence.

Featured image: Coercive control has been criminalized in Queensland. Source: kieferpix / Adobe Stock.

The Journey to Self-Forgiveness: Healing After Abuse

By
Samara Knight
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forgiving yourself after abuse

For many survivors of domestic abuse, the hardest person to forgive isn’t the one who hurt them—it’s themselves.

Even after leaving, after the danger has passed, many of us carry an invisible burden. The burden we carry is more than the trauma of what was done to us; there’s also guilt, self-blame, and regret for what we did or didn’t do in response to the abuse. We reflect on our choices: Why didn’t I leave sooner? Why did I believe them? Why didn’t I protect myself—or my children—better? And over time, these questions often morph into something much heavier: shame.

To begin forgiving ourselves, we first need to explore the complex reasons why shame exists in the first place.

Silent Self-Blame That Lingers

Abuse is designed to disempower. It chips away at your self-trust until you start doubting your instincts, your decisions, even your memories. And when you finally get out, you’re often left holding the wreckage, unsure how much of it you caused.

“I remember thinking,” one survivor shared, “maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I’m remembering it wrong. Maybe I’m exaggerating.”

Another reflected on her feelings of guilt and self-blame, “I let that thing into my life. I gave it my soul. That’s something I have to live with.”

One woman said, “I used to think it was my fault. That I needed to communicate better. That if I just said things right, he’d understand.”

This kind of self-questioning is common in the aftermath of abuse—especially if you’ve been gaslighted, invalidated, or repeatedly blamed by the person who hurt you. And even when you intellectually understand that you were abused, the emotional residue lingers.

The Myth of the Perfect Reaction

Part of what makes forgiving yourself after abuse so difficult is the unrealistic standard we often impose on ourselves. We imagine the “ideal” survivor of abuse—someone who sees the red flags immediately, walks away at the first sign of harm, and never looks back. But that’s rarely how it works.

Abusers are skilled at weaving together kindness and cruelty. They create confusion, dependency, and hope. And survivors—especially those who were isolated or groomed from an early age—may not recognize the harm until they’re deep inside the cycle.

“I didn’t realize it was abuse until years after I left,” one survivor wrote. “I just knew I was unhappy, that I was losing pieces of myself, but I didn’t have the words for it yet.”

Another reflected, “For 30 years I kept thinking if I just did better or acted differently, things would change—until I realized they never would.”

Many of us punish ourselves for the ways we coped—whether that was minimizing the abuse, lashing out, staying too long, or shutting down emotionally. But those were survival mechanisms. You did the best you could with the knowledge and support you had at the time.

Self-forgiveness begins when we acknowledge the complexity of abuse. No one stayed because they were weak. Many of us stayed longer than we would have liked because our existence became trying to survive something that was designed to keep us trapped.

Grieving the Versions of Ourselves We Lost

Forgiving yourself also means grieving: grieving the years lost, the dreams that were derailed, the person you were before the abuse began. This grief is deeply personal and can be painful to sit with.

“I felt ashamed that I wasn’t able to save my marriage,” one survivor said. “That a devoted wife should have been able to help her husband overcome his addictions. I felt absolutely defeated.”

Another person said, “I feel like I lost out on so many great opportunities in my life because I didn’t leave him sooner. When I think about all the things I didn’t do and doors that are now closed to me since I spent so many years worried about keeping him happy, it makes me want to cry.”

Forgiving yourself means letting go of the illusion. It means no longer shaming yourself for believing in something that wasn’t real—because you wanted it to be and you deserve real and healthy love.

When Others Reinforce the Blame

One of the hardest parts of recovery is when others echo the blame we already place on ourselves. Whether it’s subtle judgment, religious condemnation, or outright dismissal, it can deepen the wounds and stall the process of healing.

“I was told, ‘Just get over it’—as if I hadn’t already tried,” one woman said.

Other survivors reported hearing, “No wonder he treated you like that” or “If it was so bad, why didn’t you just leave?”. This victim-blaming reflects a poor understanding of the power dynamics inherent in domestic abuse and invalidate survivors’ experiences.

When the world doesn’t offer compassion, it becomes even more crucial that we offer it to ourselves.

Reframing the Narrative

Self-forgiveness doesn’t mean excusing everything you did or didn’t do. It means understanding your actions in the context of trauma. It means recognizing that you were manipulated, isolated, or afraid—and that your responses were human.

“I’ve forgiven myself for putting up with it,” one survivor said. “For falling into the trap. For the ways I could’ve behaved better. I’ve moved on and am constantly healing.”

“I used to beat myself up for not leaving sooner, especially because of the horrible things my children witnessed” another survivor shared. “But then I realised—I wasn’t free to choose. I was surviving the only way I knew how.”

You are not the person who set out to hurt you. You are the person who survived. And now, you’re a person who is healing.

Forgiving Yourself After Abuse is a Gentle, Ongoing Process

Self-compassion and forgiveness is not a one-time decision—it’s a process. Some days you’ll feel strong and clear. Other days the old voices will return, whispering blame and doubt. That’s normal. That’s part of it.

You don’t have to rush it. You don’t have to “get over it.” You’re allowed to move slowly. To feel it all. To forgive yourself in layers.

And when it feels too hard, come back to this:
You didn’t deserve what happened to you.
You were doing the best you could.
You are not broken—you were hurt.
And you are worthy of healing, love, and a life that is yours again.

Featured Image: Many survivors struggle with it, but it’s important to forgive yourself after abuse. Source: alexandre zveiger/ Adobe Stock

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

Silenced in Church: When Religious Communities Dismiss Domestic Abuse

By
Samara Knight
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religious communities ignore domestic abuse

For many survivors of abuse, faith can be a source of comfort, strength, and belonging. But for others, religious communities become yet another place where their pain is ignored, their voices silenced, and their abusers protected. Spiritual teachings meant to offer healing are sometimes weaponized to keep domestic abuse survivors quiet and submissive—turning sacred spaces into sources of further harm.

When Scripture Becomes a Weapon

Many survivors report that religious texts or beliefs were used to justify staying with their abuser. Beliefs like “God hates divorce” or “submit to your husband” are twisted and stripped of context, used to pressure people—especially women—into enduring mistreatment for the sake of spiritual obedience.

One survivor wrote, “My narcissistic father always used our religion like a cricket bat to emotionally beat me over the head, so he could control me.”

“I was told I was going to hell if I left,” one woman said. “Even though he was abusing me and our child.” Another said, “Even today he was questioning my Christianity, saying my boundaries are unbiblical and abusive.”

Instead of being encouraged to seek safety, survivors are often told to pray harder, forgive more, or have more faith.

Another shared how her husband controlled her ability to express her faith, “My husband was not so religious but I am. If he caught me playing Christian music, all hell would break loose by physical abuse.”

The result for both of these situations is a deep internal conflict between spiritual belief and survival instinct.

Protecting the Abuser, Not the Victim

In many cases, abusers are respected members of their religious community—pastors, volunteers, “good husbands,” or regular churchgoers. A public persona as devout or upright can make it almost impossible for others to believe the person could be abusive behind closed doors.

“My ex father-in-law was a preacher,” one woman wrote. “Behind closed doors, he was a full-blown narc and abuser. Same as both his sons.” Another survivor said, “My church saw him as a wonderful, giving man. But they didn’t see what he did at home.”

This dissonance often leads communities to downplay the abuse, blame the victim, or quietly encourage her to stay for the sake of appearances. In some cases, church leadership actively discourages divorce or disclosure, prioritizing the image of a strong marriage or the institution over the wellbeing of the individual.

The Pressure to Stay Silent

For survivors who are religious, being shamed by their community is especially painful. They are often already struggling with guilt, confusion, and grief. Being told they are sinning by leaving an abuser—or worse, being ostracized for speaking up—only compounds their suffering.

“The worst is when we look the other way and allow church doctrines to prevent women from divorcing and make them stay for years in domestic violence,” one woman shared. Another said, “He abused me and then claimed I had to forgive him because we were Christians and as a Christian, I was called to forgive.”

This weaponized forgiveness can silence a survivor’s pain, forcing them to spiritually reconcile with someone who has shown no remorse, accountability, or change. This can escalate abuse over time since there are no repercussions for the abuser and the victim’s story is ignored.

Leaving Both the Abuse—and the Church

For some, leaving their abuser also meant leaving their faith community behind. The betrayal by those they trusted spiritually created wounds that ran just as deep as the abuse itself.

“My ex-husband abused me in every way. But what hurt almost as much was being shamed in church when I left him,” one woman explained. Another survivor said, “My friends’ church supported her abuser and told her she was being ungrateful. It broke her spirit. She doesn’t go to church anymore.”

When spiritual communities prioritize doctrine over human dignity and safety, survivors are left spiritually homeless—unable to find support in a space that once grounded them and with the people who claimed to care.

Finding Faith After Betrayal

Despite everything, many survivors eventually reclaim their faith—but on their own terms. They find new communities, redefine their relationship with God, or rebuild their spirituality in quiet, personal ways.

“Even though I left the church that enabled my abuser, I found a new one—one that listened, that believed, that didn’t ask me to pretend,” a survivor shared.

Another wrote, “I still believe in God. I just don’t believe in staying where my soul is dying.”

“A pastor from a different church came to me and told me he would come with me to the police. That one act changed everything,” another person shared. This shows that while some religious individuals and institutions may be complicit, others can offer true sanctuary.

For some survivors, faith becomes the very thing that leads them out of darkness.

Reclaiming Voice and Belief

The journey of healing after spiritual betrayal is long, but survivors do not have to walk it alone. There are faith leaders who speak up, communities that protect the vulnerable, and spaces that do not demand submission to abuse in exchange for salvation.

Reclaiming faith after a religious community denied or dismissed domestic abuse means allowing your own spirit to speak louder than the voices that once told you to stay silent. It means believing that your safety, your dignity, and your voice matter in the eyes of something bigger.

When coercive control and domestic abuse are denied by a religious community or these groups choose to help abusers maintain their public image over supporting survivors, they are failing those they claim to protect. But survivors are not alone, and despite what some religious practitioners may say, they are not wrong for leaving an abusive relationship and putting their wellbeing first.

No faith should require you to stay in harm’s way. If your religious community told you otherwise, know this: You don’t owe them your silence and submission. Your life matters more than their judgment.

Featured Image: Religious communities may dismiss domestic violence to “keep up appearances” and some abusers misrepresent religious teachings to control their partners. Source: Sana / Adobe Stock.

* Quotes are drawn from survivor experiences shared publicly on the Shadows of Control Facebook and Twitter pages and have been lightly edited for spelling, grammar, or clarity.

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