Surviving Family Court Where Abuse Is Not Recognised
As a survivor of coercive control, I have experienced firsthand the devastating impact that coercive control and psychological abuse can have on an individual’s life.
My journey through the legal system was marked by frustration and disbelief, as I struggled to make my voice heard and seek protection from my ex-husband’s pattern of abusive behavior.
As a lawyer myself, it was expected that I could protect myself, but the law seemed ill-equipped to recognise the complexity of my situation.
Background To Seeking A Protection Order
In 2014, I sought a protection order against my ex husband.
The decision to make the application was not one taken lightly.
We had been separated for four years already, and despite the long history of abuse (both during and following the relationship), I was still trying my best to keep things on an even keel between us.
We were raising two children together, and although I no longer wanted a relationship with him, I still considered him to be a part of my family.
When I left my ex husband, for example, I encouraged him to move in with my own father for a time, hoping this might assist in his recovery from the obvious distress he was experiencing at the end of our relationship.
My ex in fact lived with my father and family for two years following the end of our relationship. During that time, he continued to stalk, assault and abuse me, as well as actively manipulating and attempting to turn my family against me.
During this period, I also walked away from the million dollar property that we had lived in while together — figuring that it was better to try and maintain our relationship as parents, than instigate a fight over money that I instinctively understood would be vicious and enormously damaging for our family.
I was also still only 22 when I left the relationship, with two small children, and attempting to get my professional career off the ground. I was therefore wholly unprepared to instigate a broader fight against the much older man who had been so controlling in the course of that relationship.
My ex husband still lives in that property today — he moved back to it after leaving my father’s home.
I don’t begrudge him it (I’d love a little more security myself, but the pursuit of money isn’t really my thing), but the context here is that he ended up with more than he deserved, while I actively sought to maintain our parenting relationship in the face of the horrors he continued to inflict.
My ex husband went on to stalk me, both physically and through the legal system, for many many years.
In the courts, this was predominantly using child support legislation and included more than 60 different applications filed by him over the years.
I began this blog in 2021, with an article I wrote on those experiences and the failure of the family court to protect me from what amounted to “procedural stalking” or “paper abuse” (to use the academic terms for these things).
All of this was against a background of years of seemingly “minor” incidents, that cumulatively had had an enormously damaging impact and effect on my life and consequent ability to cope with the pressures that continued to be inflicted after I left the relationship.
During the course of our relationship, my ex husband had sought to undermine my already damaged self-esteem (damaged from a multitude of traumas that predated him and which had made me vulnerable to his advances in the first place), slowly isolated me from friends and family, and manipulated me emotionally.
Over time, these behaviours had escalated, so that I found myself trapped in a cycle of psychological abuse that left me feeling helpless and afraid.
Even when I left him, I wasn’t able to label his behaviours for what they were though.
They were coercive and controlling behaviours, with the ever present threat of violence if he didn’t get what he wanted, but because this was what I had grown up with, I didn’t yet understand that these were not normal behaviours and that I was allowed to seek protection from them.
One particularly telling incident in the year after we separated, was when my ex partner had been stalking me from the car park building across from my apartment.
From this vantage, he had been able to look down directly into my lounge and kitchen. On a couple of occasions, this had resulted in him storming my apartment door when I had had friends over, and had included an incident where he had physically chucking a man out my apartment door.
On other occasions he had simply let himself in when he’d seen me go out and gone through my mail and computer emails — confronting me later over incidents he perceived as betrayals even though we were separated.
While up on that car park building one day, he also sent me a text message declaring his desire to jump off the building if I didn’t return to him, with the veiled threat that read: “don’t worry, I’ll make sure I return the kids to you before I do”.
At the time, while I understood the sinister messaging behind what he was saying, in my still continued desire to see good in him and write off his actions as simple “pain” over the loss of our relationship, I still did not wholly understand the broader context of what his messages like this meant.
Later, as things played out and got worse, I came to understand that he viewed me as his property and I came to fear that he might in fact kill me if he couldn’t control me and get what he wanted from me.
The Protection Order Application
When I made the application for a protection order in 2014, I was by then, a barrister (court room lawyer) working in a small regional court.
The last thing I wanted was for my personal business to be played out before the judges I had to appear in front of daily professionally.
Things had reached breaking point for me though, when I realised my then 11-year old daughter was at serious risk of some of the things I had experienced in the course of my relationship with my ex husband.
Of course I wanted to protect her — as well as myself.
The difficulty was that I had only really just began to sort through my own troubles and history. I still didn’t have a good grip on what had occurred during the relationship, and I wasn’t wholly positioned emotionally to take on this battle.
“Psychological abuse” was also still relatively new to my vocabulary and while I had begun to connect some of the dots, I certainly didn’t have the overarching understanding and narrative that I do today — a base point for any lawyer arguing a case.
Put simply, I didn’t yet have the capacity to see and argue the nuances of my very complicated situation.
I also wasn’t positioned financially to pay for my own lawyer, while my ex husband, by contrast, was living in his own home, bankrolled by his parents, and able to spend tens of thousands of dollars on one of the best that our region could offer.
The main premise of my application for protection was that there was a pattern of abusive behavior, which included physical and psychological violence.
I had not yet came to terms with the sexual abuse and rape I had also experienced in the relationship — so that was not included in the application.
And I was also still attempting to be “fair” and “reasonable” about things — often downplaying his actions through an unfounded sense of empathy for what I understood to be his loss (which I now understand were simply part of a pattern of controlling and abusive behaviour) and carefully acknowledging where I felt it was fair to recognise my own role in “provoking his anger” or similar (things I now recognise as my being apologetic for actions and events outside of my control).
I also had no real understanding of the power imbalance that had been an inherent part of our relationship. Having in fact been a traumatised teenager and single mother when I met my ex husband, while he had been a professional man in his mid 30s, I had immediately been behind the eight ball in that respect.
I didn’t understand how vulnerable this made me, why this contributed so significantly to my lack of power in and out of the relationship, how this meant I put up with much more than I should have, or the broader understandings that I now have around domestic or family violence or abuse today.
All of which is to say that although the judge hearing the protection order application did acknowledge that there had been (in her words) “low level violence”, I failed to persuade her that I was in need of protection.
There’s a particularly telling passage from the judge’s decision that I’m going to quote verbatim here, before I analyse how all of this fits into the broader picture of what coercive control looks like within legal systems that fail to recognise family and domestic violence and abuse for what they are.
From the Judgement
[10] In November 2010 a disagreement arose at the applicant’s home. The respondent yelled at the applicant and ordered her out of her father’s house. As she was backing out the applicant says the respondent raised a closed fist as if to hit her. He then gave the applicant a large shove towards the front stairs. The applicant says that she nearly lost her balance and fell down the stairs and her father came out of a room when he heard the argument. The respondent was also living in the same home at the time of the argument. The respondent accepts that he pushed the applicant but he did not try to push her down the stairs. The applicant says the pushing was in a context of an argument. He says he was trying to make the applicant leave so he pushed her to go out the door.
[ 11] I find that because of the disagreement between the parties, there was a physical interaction whereby the respondent pushed the mother. The action of pushing by him was domestic violence but I accept that this was historical low level violence and the last allegation of physical violence by the mother.
[12] In April 2009 the applicant alleges there was an assault at her office. She says she was there early in the morning and the respondent arrived to collect [daughter]. There was an argument and the applicant says the respondent stood over her and yelled down at her. She says she repeatedly asked the respondent to leave and [daughter] leapt in to her arms crying. It is her allegation that the respondent eventually became so frustrated that he grabbed her with [daughter] in her arms and began shaking her. The respondent accepts that he held the applicants’ arms during an argument in her office with [daughter] but he does not accept he shook her. It is accepted the parties were arguing at that time and that as a result there was yelling by the respondent. He was frustrated and acted inappropriately by grabbing the applicant with [daughter] in her arms and he probably shook her. There is no indication of how long that went for, or how violent the action. There was not a lot of detail given but I find this was domestic violence by the respondent. I take into consideration that this action was at the time the parties’ relationship was breaking.
The Problem: Failure to Recognise Patterns of Abuse
Navigating the legal process while seeking a protection order was emotionally, physically and financially exhausting.
I was attempting to work full-time as a lawyer, run a business, raise two young children, and somehow navigate the fear and plethora of emotional issues that were flowing from my ex husband’s actions and my need to pursue these proceedings.
I was also in a new relationship by this point and planning a wedding to my new husband to be — which was also probably fuelling some of my ex partner’s particularly toxic behaviours.
I attempted to compile evidence of my ex-partner’s abusive behaviour, including incidents of physical violence and numerous examples of psychological abuse.
I hoped that presenting this information would help the judge recognise the pattern of control that had been present throughout our relationship and that this was what was behind my fear of what he might do.
Unfortunately, the judge’s findings in my case were disheartening.
While they acknowledged instances of physical violence, they failed to grasp the significance of the psychological abuse I had endured.
The judge essentially dismissed the pattern of coercive control, instead focusing on isolated incidents and labelling them as “historical” or “low-level” violence.
This dismissal of psychological abuse left me feeling invalidated and, ultimately, unprotected by the legal system.
The judge’s findings also left me vulnerable to attack in later proceedings, with the fact that I had lost these proceedings then forever wheeled out as evidence of my purported lack of credibility.
Modern Understandings of Coercive Control
Coercive control is a form of psychological abuse characterised by a pattern of manipulative behaviours that aim to dominate and control a partner.
It encompasses various components, including emotional manipulation, threats, isolation, monitoring a partner’s activities, and exerting financial control.
Coercive control is insidious and often goes unnoticed, as it slowly erodes the victim’s self-esteem, independence, and sense of safety.
Research on the impacts of coercive control on victims reveals a wide range of harmful consequences. These can include mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), as well as physical health problems and increased risk of substance abuse.
The psychological toll of coercive control can be long-lasting, making it challenging for survivors to rebuild their lives even after leaving abusive relationships.
When it comes to navigating legal systems, victims of coercive control and psychological abuse are at an enormous disadvantage — one that in my experience (as a lawyer of 9 years and having researched extensively in this area over the 6 years since I left my legal career) judges and lawyers simply refuse to understand, acknowledge and accomodate.
A significant shift in understandings around coercive control has occurred in recent years however, with experts (at least outside the family court) increasingly emphasising the importance of recognising patterns of behavior rather than focusing solely on individual incidents.
This perspective acknowledges that the cumulative impact of coercive control can be just as damaging, if not more so, than isolated acts of physical violence.
By examining the broader context of abusive relationships, we are able to better assess the risks and harms faced by victims.
Numerous studies and expert opinions support this shift in focus.
For example, research by Dr. Evan Stark, author of the groundbreaking book “Coercive Control: How Men Entrap Women in Personal Life,” highlights the importance of examining the full range of tactics used by abusers to exert power and control over their partners.
Other research has also consistently found that victims of coercive control experience higher levels of psychological distress compared to those who experience only physical abuse.
Risk of Homicide That Accompanies Coercive Control
The risk of homicide is also significantly higher in cases where coercive control is present.
Coercive control is a pattern of abusive behaviours that includes emotional manipulation, threats, isolation, and financial control, aimed at dominating and controlling a partner.
These patterns of control often escalate over time, creating an increasingly dangerous environment for victims.
There are several reasons why coercive control is associated with an increased risk of homicide.
Firstly, abusers who engage in coercive control are focused on maintaining power and control over their partners. As victims attempt to resist or escape the abusive relationship, the abuser may resort to more extreme acts of violence, including homicide, to regain control.
Secondly, the cumulative impact of coercive control can erode a victim’s self-esteem, support networks, and resources, making it more challenging for them to leave the relationship and increasing their vulnerability to lethal violence.
Professionals who work in the field of family violence and abuse will also be the first to tell you that the most risky time for a woman is not in fact during the relationship, but after she attempts to leave — a fact supported by a plethora of empirical evidence on the subject.
The Legal System’s Limitations
One of the primary limitations of legal system is the focus most often placed on physical violence, often at the expense of recognising and addressing psychological abuse.
This narrow approach can lead to a failure to identify and respond to patterns of coercive control, as demonstrated in my personal experience seeking a protection order.
The emphasis on physical violence can be attributed to several factors.
For one, physical acts of aggression are often more visible and easier to document than subtle psychological manipulation.
Additionally, societal attitudes that prioritise physical harm over emotional harm contribute to the legal system’s reluctance to treat psychological abuse with the same level of seriousness.
This focus on physical violence has severe implications for victims of coercive control.
By dismissing or downplaying psychological abuse, the legal system can inadvertently perpetuate the cycle of abuse, leaving victims vulnerable to further harm.
Victims, often already struggling to tell their story, end up feeling invalidated and discouraged from seeking help, believing that their experiences are not severe enough to warrant legal intervention.
The lack of protection for victims of coercive control also exacerbates the power dynamics in abusive relationships.
Abusers can continue their manipulative behavior with impunity, knowing that the legal system is unlikely to intervene unless physical violence occurs.
This further disempowers victims, making it even more challenging for them to escape the cycle of abuse and reclaim their autonomy.
Addressing these limitations in the legal system requires a comprehensive understanding of coercive control and a recognition of its profound impact on victims, including the fact that the risk of homicide and serious injury is a real risk for victims, even (and even most often) where physical violence is not generally an issue in the relationship.
There Are So Many Cases Like My Own
When I left my legal career at the end of 2016, I felt isolated and alone.
I had by then moved house following the protection order decision, fearing that my previous residence had not been secure enough; been repeatedly gaslit by the family court; and found my ex husband stalking me once again, this time outside my place of work — video camera in hand.
I had also witnessed plenty of cases that had demonstrated a repeating pattern of injustice too, but as is often the case, still had only my instincts, not a broader understanding of the systemic nature of the injustices involved.
I therefore sought further postgraduate education as I tried to make sense of all that I had experienced and witnessed; a long the way discovering a large body of academic research on these issues too.
Since then, I have also spoken to dozens of different women who have worked in this area or experienced similar, read hundreds of cases that demonstrate the same kinds of patterns I saw in my own case and those I witnessed in practice, and gained that bigger picture of understanding of the systemic nature of what occurs for women and children facing a system that doesn’t want to believe them.
My personal experience with the legal system’s shortcomings in recognising and addressing coercive control and psychological abuse is, unfortunately, far from unique.
Many other individuals have faced similar challenges when seeking protection from abusive relationships.
Learning this was surprisingly therapeutic.
For the first time since these horrors in my life began, I understood that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t crazy.
And that there were others who understood what I had been going through.
Steps Toward Change: Advocacy and Legal Reform
Raising awareness of coercive control and its impacts on victims is an essential first step in addressing the shortcomings of the legal system.
Through advocacy, education, and the sharing of personal experiences, we can challenge societal attitudes that prioritise physical violence over psychological abuse and promote a more comprehensive understanding of the dynamics of abusive relationships.
Some jurisdictions have already made significant strides in recognising and addressing coercive control through legal reforms and the implementation of new laws.
For example, in 2015, the United Kingdom introduced a law specifically targeting coercive and controlling behavior in intimate or family relationships. This legislation acknowledges the cumulative impact of coercive control and provides a legal framework for prosecuting offenders.
Similarly, several states in the United States, such as California and Hawaii, have enacted laws that recognise patterns of coercive control, expanding the definition of domestic abuse to include psychological harm.
These legal reforms signal a growing understanding of the complexities of abusive relationships and offer hope for more effective protection and support for victims.
That said, and despite the good intentions of some legislatures, we are still facing court systems that fundamentally do not want to recognise their inadequacies and who consequently, often fail to give meaning to these new laws, as intended.
I have written about these issues previously in my article “Challenges in Applying Laws Related to Family Violence and Abuse in the Court System”.
To better address cases involving coercive control, the legal system must continue to evolve and incorporate a broader understanding of abuse.
Potential changes could include:
- Expanding legal definitions of domestic abuse to encompass psychological harm and coercive control, providing a more comprehensive framework for identifying and addressing abusive behaviours.
- Implementing mandatory training for legal professionals, including judges, attorneys, and law enforcement officers, to improve their understanding of coercive control and its impact on victims. This has to be more than the broad brush stroke that is often given. Formal qualifications on family & domestic violence and abuse, and in sociology and psychology, must become part of judicial and legal training.
- Establishing specialised domestic violence courts or tribunals that focus on cases involving coercive control and other forms of abuse, ensuring that victims have access to knowledgeable and empathetic legal professionals.
- Encouraging a multidisciplinary approach to addressing domestic abuse, incorporating mental health professionals, social workers, and victim advocates to provide comprehensive support for victims.
- Strengthening penalties for coercive control offenses and ensuring that offenders are held accountable for their actions, sending a clear message that psychological abuse will not be tolerated.
Conclusion
The outcome of my case highlights the shortcomings of the legal system when it comes to understanding and addressing the insidious consequences of abuse and coercive control.
Despite my professional background and knowledge of the law, I found myself unable to secure the protection I needed.
This experience has fuelled my determination to raise awareness about coercive control and advocate for change in the legal system, so that others in similar situations can find the support they desperately need.
I have seen, read and talked to victims of case after case that are just like my own, and often far worse.
Until judges obtain the necessary in-depth and academic / research based understanding of family and sexual violence and abuse that has now been so extensively written about, we will continue to see women and children (and this is a gendered issue, as a large body of empirical evidence bears out) placed at unnecessary risk.
By taking the steps noted earlier, and by continuing to advocate for change, we can work towards a legal system that effectively recognises and addresses the complexities of coercive control though.
In my own little corner of the world, I can see things are changing — still at snail speed and far from the systemic recognition and change needed — but positive work is being done.
What we still need though, is recognition and acknowledgment from judges and legal professionals about what they don’t know.
And we still urgently need the unfair and prejudicial judgement of people who allege abuse to stop.
If you have experienced abuse and/or controlling relationships, you are deserving of institutions that will protect you if you want to leave.
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