On 23rd July 2024 the College of Policing and National Police Chiefs’ Council published the first National Policing Statement 2024 about Violence Against Women and Girls.
The very first sentence in this significant report describes violence against women and girls (VAWG) – including domestic abuse – as having reached ‘epidemic levels’ in the UK. It refers to the data that informed the Statement as ‘staggering’. It goes on to say: “At least 1 in every 12 women will be victims of VAWG per year (2 million victims) and we expect the exact number to be higher”. One in twelve. It is time we heard their voices and challenged that reality. Here is one of those voices.
Moni’s Story
Moni had made a good life for herself and her children once she had been able to leave their father and start again. The years of deliberate cruelty – silence, sarcasm, name-calling and threats – had all taken their toll on her confidence and left her feeling like a failure as a mum sometimes. She had to borrow money to get by, and take extra part-time work. But it was all worth it to be able to live without the constant hostility.
Moni had done all she could to ensure that her three children hadn’t seen the worst of it. She would go to bed early before he came home and pretend to be sleeping so that he wouldn’t pick a fight and wake them. She didn’t want them to witness the goading and back-biting that their father seemed to revel in. Protecting them from how bitter and vindictive he could be was really important to her. He once taunted – ‘You knew I was a nasty piece of work when you married me!’ and laughed. When he started to hit her – that was when she knew she had to leave.
In the years that followed their separation, the children used to visit him from time to time until they had social lives of their own and he stopped making the effort. That was all in the dim and distant past. But now her children had grown and had children of their own. They were starting their own families. They had wanted their father at their weddings. Wanted their children to have a grandpa. And so he was – albeit at a distance – back in their lives. For Moni – this resurrected all sorts of memories that she had long since buried. She had completely forgotten that he existed for a good few years. But she didn’t need to meet or even speak to him – not often, anyway. It was bearable.
Then he became ill. Moni’s youngest couldn’t see him struggling on his own, and moved him closer so that they could keep an eye on him. It was a kindness he had done little to deserve, and he was a challenging man to be around. The family persevered, but they found it hard.
One day when they were packing for a long weekend away, Moni’s daughter started talking about her father and how difficult he had been that week. And then she said – out of the blue – ‘At least now he can’t bully me anymore’.
With that one phrase, Moni realised that the care that she had taken to shield her children from their father’s selfish cruelty had not protected them after all. That they had all felt his hostility and anger. That they had been bullied and belittled when she was out at work, or when they were visiting him after he had left. That they had been victims too. And – even as adults with children of their own – they could still remember how that felt.
Living with that sadness and guilt was not something that Moni had bargained for in her retirement, but the impact of living with domestic abuse stays with women – and with children – and can last a lifetime.
See the full One in Twelve series here