Participants were diverse in terms of their age, years they had been in the UK, professions, and religious affiliations. The average age for the sample was 40. Many participants had been in the UK from their childhood and many others for decades. Of the 24 participants, 15 identified as Muslim, six as Christian Orthodox, two as Jehovah's Witness and one as not religious.
Table 1
Participant demographic characteristics
Participant number | Sex* | Age | Country of birth | Years in the UK | Profession | Religious affiliation |
P1 | Female | 43 | Eritrea | 22 years | NGO worker | None |
P2 | Male | 31 | Eritrea | 8 years | NGO worker | Muslim |
P3 | Male | 45 | Eritrea | 25 years | Religious leader | Muslim |
P4 | Female | 49 | Eritrea | 25 years | Health worker | Muslim |
P5 | Female | 61 | Eritrea | 30 years | Health worker | Muslim |
P6 | Female | 47 | Eritrea | 30 years | NGO worker | Orthodox Christian |
P7 | Female | 53 | Eritrea | 32 years | Social care worker | Muslim |
P8 | Female | 58 | Eritrea | 35 years | Community worker | Muslim |
P9 | Female | 51 | Bangladesh | From early childhood | Religious leader | Muslim |
P10 | Female | 55 | Bangladesh | From early childhood | Local authority | Muslim |
P11 | Male | Not declared | Bangladesh | From early childhood | Local authority | Muslim |
P12 | Female | 49 | Bangladesh | From early childhood | Local authority | Muslim |
P13 | Female | 28 | Bangladesh | From early childhood | DV organisation | Muslim |
P14 | Female | 31 | Bangladesh | From early childhood | Local authority | Muslim |
P15 | Female | 45 | Bangladesh | From early childhood | DV organisation | Muslim |
P16 | Female | 32 | Bangladesh | 6 years | DV organisation | Muslim |
P17 | Female | 27 | Ethiopia | 4 | Support worker | Jehovah’s Witness |
P18 | Female | 23 | Ethiopia | 6 | Full time mother | Orthodox Christian |
P19 | Female | 29 | Ethiopia | 8 | Full time mother | Orthodox Christian |
P20 | Female | 24 | Ethiopia | 5 | Full time mother | Orthodox Christian |
P21 | Female | 35 | Ethiopia | 4.5 | Full time mother | Muslim |
P22 | Female | 23 | Ethiopia | 3 | Full time mother | Orthodox Christian |
P23 | Female | 24 | Eritrea | 7 | Full time mother | Orthodox Christian |
P24 | Female | 63 | Eritrea | 8 | Support worker | Jehovah's Witness |
*Participants were not asked to self-identify their gender, hence only sex is mentioned.
Understandings of DVA focused on physical violence.
In all the study contexts, definitions of DVA revolved around physical violence. For most participants, DVA extended beyond intimate partner violence to encompass the mistreatment of women by other family members, particularly mothers-in-law. The level of awareness of DVA among the study participants seemed to be a function of numerous factors, including their exposure to women’s rights language, relevant legislation in the UK, as well as socio-culturally enforced gendered norms that seemed to cut across the Bangladeshi, Eritrean and Ethiopian communities. Many participants explained that their understanding had changed and had improved over time because of their stay in the UK.
In the Bangladeshi community, there was a diversity in the language used to talk about DVA experiences, but there was also a notion that abuse was taking place only when there was evidence of physical harm, as highlighted in the account below:
Majority of the time people are focused on (physical abuse), and it is easier for them to deal with it if a woman has a bruise. It’s easier to say, ok you are a victim of domestic abuse. If she is experiencing sexual abuse for example, would she go to an imam and say look my husband is sexually abusing me. No, she wouldn’t. (Bangladeshi study participant)
The general perception among the Bangladeshi participants was that other forms of DVA that were not evident or were less visible tended to understated in the community.
Within the Eritrean study context, numerous research participants admitted that they had to educate themselves on DVA after arriving in the UK, whilst a few interlocutors, including men and women, said that DVA was not a problem as they had not met women subjected to physical violence. In this study cluster too, perceptions about domestic violence related to visible cases of physical violence and the participants’ own awareness of specific examples in their surroundings. Similar ideas were expressed within the Ethiopian study cluster, as illustrated in the following account: “I have learned in this country, some women don’t even know [that] they are being abused.” (Ethiopian study participant).
Within the Eritrean and Ethiopian study contexts, participants explained that traditional gender roles ascribed to women were constructed around the notion of perseverance or endurance, with many proverbs and sayings promoting women’s submission and justifying a ‘machismo’ type of masculinity, a term that some research participants themselves used. In some cases, such attitudes were reinforced by religious figures, as illustrated in the following account:
When they tell their family members [about abuse], they are told that they should be patient and endure it as it's just the way it should be. Some go to their priests seeking for advice and they will get advice to endure the situation. (Ethiopian study participant)
A Bangladeshi research participant also described women’s submission to men as a community-wide norm:
Yes, I do think it is a big problem in our community, and how do I define it, it's so culturally, you know, ingrained that it's the norm, normal behaviour to treat women in a degrading manner, in a manner where she has to perform some duties (physical and sexual), and it's expected of her. Just there now, it's not seen as a misuse of cultural or religious norms. It's just natural, and it's expected, and she expects it too, as well as her family and he (husband) and her family; it seems to be like from my experience that it’s like you would do, it's unusual if it doesn't happen. (Bangladeshi study participant)
Participants explained that often adults had witnessed it as children in their families, and this tended to contribute to its normalisation. Since their parents had perpetuated such behaviours and norms, asking for their support when such situations arose in their own adult relationships was believed to be futile. One participant said:
(…) That this is how man behaves and so I just sort of accept it, and so it’s also, you know if there is any kind of instances where perhaps a woman in that situation goes back to say in a most likely to say to her mum and says you know this is what's happening in my relationship with my husband, if the mum has been subjected to those kind[s] of treatment the likelihood of mum then just saying, it's nothing unusual you've seen how your dad treats me and so that's how men are, so just accept it just bear it, and that's the thing some women accept. (Bangladeshi study participant)
Ethiopian participants also reported that certain forms of verbal and psychological abuse, such as intimidation, belittling and financial control were normalised. Some participants saw men as victims-turned-victimisers, who had been socialised in an abusive environment and had unhealed trauma, as the account below illustrates:
It’s because of the culture - I don’t think they are aware that they are being violent. I think it's because of their upbringing and the trauma experienced before they came to the UK or what they have been through when they migrate to the UK. The men themselves need a lot of therapeutic support. When they grow up, they might have experienced domestic abuse within their family or in their neighbourhood and they think it’s how you should treat women. (Ethiopian study participant)
Participants also explained that many Ethiopian and Eritrean men arrived in the UK via treacherous routes, crossing into Europe through the Sahara Desert, Libya, and the Mediterranean Sea, and may have been subjected to human rights violations. They believed that such abuses added to other unhealed trauma to manifest as violent behaviour towards their intimate partners, as the following account illustrates:
It could also be the psychological trauma that affect[s] them during the journey. We hear a lot of horrific stories [about] what happens in Libya: both men and women are raped, their kidney forcefully stolen and all sorts of stories. (...) I think they displace their anger and frustrations on their wives and girlfriends. Some people take out their anger by kicking their dogs, or on the door, I think that’s why they are like that. Because they have a lot of anger, sadness and misery bottled up inside. I didn’t read any research but that’s what I think. (Ethiopian study participant)
Eritrean participants agreed that financial problems and disputes were a major cause of DVA. For example, a woman might wish to send money back home to her relatives, and her husband might object, leading to disagreement, conflict, and even physical violence. Additionally, while both female and male refugees are entitled to asylum and welfare benefits, participants reported cases where men exercised control over the family income, disempowering women and creating family tensions. Other study participants explained that family reunions and arranged marriages between UK-based Eritrean men and Eritrean women wishing to escape from refugee camps and urban displacement in East Africa could also result in significant power imbalances between spouses, as well as unmet expectations and increased stress among women arriving to and living in an unfamiliar environment. A detailed account is provided below:
So, the man had settled and adjusted and knows about the system. The woman comes as a guest. She's under the control of the man. So that's more hurdles for the woman, the man would say ‘I brought you here and now you're suing me’ type of thing, but also knowing how to go and get help. You know that they go by years and years without knowing anything, because they're grateful that the man had brought them here and you know, he's just the Almighty basically. He didn't bring them just to benefit the woman, but to benefit him as well. Even in the community, you get that extra respect if you bring your wife here. So, for her to go on and accuse him of abuse, wow, no way. (Eritrean study participant)
Overall, the participants from the three study contexts all expressed a nuanced understanding of the causes of DVA that included systemic, intergenerational and migration-related trauma affecting both women and men. While many of the causes were related to gender inequalities and harmful gender norms that were socio-culturally reinforced, men were generally seen as being under-served by the same gendered system that trapped them in toxic masculinities.
Multiple perpetrators within the extended family
In most accounts, participants identified multiple perpetrators within extended family settings. This was particularly prevalent in multigenerational families living in the UK and emerged as a recurrent issue in the Bangladeshi community. Even in cases where relatives are not physically present in the UK, they could still have an impact on the life of the married couple. This was also reported for the Eritrean community, which participants presented as a closely knit transnational community. One explained:
The news travels back home, so their families back home would be another barrier [to reporting a perpetrator]. So, if a woman does anything, the man will definitely tell his family and her family, and then it would be, why are you reporting your husband to the authorities, so there’s a community issue, and a culture issue here. It’s local, it’s national, people in the UK know each other, the community is very interconnected. Whatever happens in London will be known to someone who lives in Birmingham, Sheffield, or Leeds. So, you have this blame and shame aspect as well. (Eritrean study participant)
Since news travels back home quickly, pressure is quickly exerted on women by relatives overseas to act in a socially ascribed manner. These pressure systems were reported to reinforce society-wide ideas that women are at fault when problems arise and are responsible of ‘fixing’ problems, and the general stigma associated with separation, contributing to a general silence about DVA.
In the Ethiopian context, participants discussed how mothers-in-law had direct influence on the marriage dynamics and their sons, and how this could lead to wives’ emotional abuse by their husbands. Husbands would often compare wives to their own mothers, praising their mothers for having been ‘perfect women’ and raising their children effectively despite a plethora of hardships that they had experienced back in Ethiopia. Their mothers’ hardships were often juxtaposed to their wives' improved conditions in the UK, who were blamed for failing in their roles as wives and mothers. One participant described the following incident:
I used to have severe morning sickness when I had my first baby and he used to tell me that I should stop complaining because his mother had a tough life and was much stronger: ‘but you don’t have a busy day, you spend most of your time sleeping. Why are you complaining? My mother used to wake up at 5 am to make breakfast for us then go to work, and then come back at lunch time to prepare meal for us. You don’t do a quarter of what she is been through.’ (Ethiopian study participant)
Such comparisons often contributed to fostering antagonism or even resentment towards mothers-in-low and became the cause of arguments between spouses. Comparisons could also be made between sons and fathers by mothers-in-law to silence women into submission, as in the case below:
For example, I bought [an] Ethiopian traditional dress and wanted us all to have a professional picture. But he kept postponing it because as you know, he doesn’t like spending money and how he controlled all the expenses. But she (husband’s mother} said to me that ‘you can live with him peacefully; he is much better compared with his dad’. Usually, couples compare themselves with other peer couples, but my competition was with his parents. It felt impossible. (Ethiopian study participant)
In the Bangladeshi community, participants spoke about a hierarchical relationship between wives and other women in the family depending on their relationship to the husband, with older women, and especially mothers-in-law, occupying a more powerful position. Participants explained that daughters-in-law were often subjected to controlling behaviour by mothers-in-law, which could contribute to a complex system of dominance and some women’s multilayered oppression within the larger family., as the account below shows:
So, one of the things I've seen there is not only domestic violence in all its forms, from the spouse, but it can happen from the extended family members, like brother-in-law, sister-in-law's mother father-in-law’s. (Bangladeshi study participant)
Participants believed that this complex nexus of power relationships was rarely considered or understood by DVA service providers, which was believed to limit the latter’s ability to effectively support wives abused by husbands.
Division between the private and the public sphere and notions of shame and honour
In all the study contexts explored in this paper, participants articulated that DVA was treated as a private family matter. All these communities upheld a strong belief that if a woman spoke about her experience of DVA, she was not a ‘good’ woman, wife or mother, and that she did not perform her social role properly. The following account is one of many that were reported to the researchers:
For example, if a woman is a victim, is most likely you know in most cases would be a woman who's been the victim, perhaps, you know she would speak to somebody older who could maybe talk to her husband or something like that. But they definitely wouldn't want these to come out and go to a sort of organisation or if there is any kind of help organised, like domestic violence helpline or something, they would not be alerting them to. They will still consider that this is a private matter. (Bangladeshi study participant)
Furthermore, participants explained that women who did speak out faced the risk of further abuse from other family members and the wider community. In most cases, a conversation about DVA would be considered an intrusion into a family’s private life and women would have no option but to remain silent and to devise their own strategies for managing abusive situations within the family. The study participants’ accounts suggested that people in the community who were aware of DVA cases would be hesitant to intervene, in some cases following an explicit request from the victim not to do so.
In the Eritrean community, for example, participants presented a picture whereby everyone exerted considerable effort to keep family issues private. As a result of society-wide gender imbalances, when things went wrong people narrowed down on women’s and not on men’s actions, with women being seen as disobedient and as bringing shame if they spoke about DVA outside of the family circle. A participant explained:
And culturally we think that family… that no one should speak about the family, you know. It’s forbidden, it’s [a] shame to speak about what happens in the family, whether the couple, or the family unit, you don’t talk about it outside home. So, this being secretive… which is again, common in many communities, not to single out any community, whether it’s Muslim or Christian. (Eritrean study participant)
An Ethiopian participant also explained that taking formal action against a perpetrator was considered a taboo and that she herself had faced stigma and social ostracism when she decided to leave her abusive husband. Another Ethiopian participant recounted that those experiencing DVA would be criticised in their Orthodox Church congregation if they pursued legal avenues to deal with perpetrators. One woman affected by DVA had been advised to manage the problem amicably, and to forgive her abusive partner as a good Christian should do.
Expectations about prioritising family values (as opposed to individual needs or desires), and notions of shame and honour continued to be predicated on women’s behaviour, respectively. According to the study participants, upholding the reputation of the family was the sole responsibility of a dignified woman, who was expected to sacrifice her own dreams and desires for the greater needs of the family.
In the Bangladeshi community, participants’ accounts also revealed a widely upheld belief that if DVA occurred there was something wrong with the woman and that if she spoke out, she behaved inappropriately:
And there's such a stigma, you know, around it, you know as I said before, I think it's such an expected thing, you know, it's just it's the norm, and if you kind of speak out its kind of like there's something attached, it becomes something that is attached to the woman where she is kind of misbehaving, or there must be something wrong with her (Bangladeshi study participant).
In some cases, the expectation for women to endure DVA situations was coupled with a belief that Allah would reward their patience and endurance. Participants’ accounts also suggested the existence of a wider belief in the community that not talking about the abuse would eventually result in the problem disappearing.
In the case where DVA victims mustered the courage to seek help within religious establishments, they would often be advised to work on their marriage despite the abuse continuing. The same often occurred when clerics mediated in response to DVA or other marital problems. Research participants in the Ethiopian and Eritrean cluster explained that whilst both Christian and Muslim religious leaders and elders in their communities often mediated to reprimand a violent husband, the onus still tended to be placed on the wife to endure her situation. In many cases, participants reported that abusive men acted innocent and did not follow through with the agreed corrective actions, evidencing the limited power of religious mediation to change human behaviour. The account below is illustrative:
Especially if his family has a status in the community, there is no point going to the faith leaders. They tell him off, counsel him but men like that have narcissist behaviour so he pretends as if he is good. He says ‘I haven’t done anything wrong, it's her who did something wrong; it won't happen again’’ but the abuse didn’t stop all her life. But my mother ran away to the city leaving him behind. That's when the abuse stopped. (Ethiopian study participant)
And in spite of what were often lengthy mediation processes, abusive situations could escalate, putting the life of a woman and her children in danger:
[…] after years of abuse and years of mediation by family members, local community leaders or religious leaders, priests, or sheikhs, they fail to resolve the issues and then it goes out of hand. […] The priests and sheikhs try to solve the problem by keeping the family together, but then children get involved, the man who is abusive towards his wife is in the majority of cases also abusive towards his children, and children will go to school with bruises, and things escalate from there, for example. (Eritrean study participant)
Overall, participants presented a picture of a community-wide tolerance of DVA, which traditional mediation processes and approaches did not eschew. These deeply ingrained gender expectations and double standards were described as different from the UK’s statutory environment and gender equality standards. While in the home country the expectation for female victims was to endure quietly, such response and coping mechanisms were complicated by a very different statutory system in the host society. One of the participants recounted a story of a young Eritrean woman who came to the UK to marry an older man who turned out to be violent. Her story, told by a study participant below, helps to illustrate tensions between gender standards at home and the UK’s statutory environment, especially in relation to safeguarding children in abusive households:
She is very young, and she came with a child from back home, a child from another relationship. This man was violent towards this child. (…) And I happened to know this man in the community. He was one of the violent men, known in the community. So, I went to him and said, in this country it’s like this. And I said to this woman, this man is hot tempered, how do you manage his temper? And she told me, when he becomes fire, I become water. And I said, if you put too much fire in the water, the water also boils. And I left. And a few months later she had a nervous breakdown, she was admitted to hospital, the children were taken away to foster care. Can you imagine? So, the water can also boil. I will never forget it. This is what the society expects from women culturally. (Eritrean study participant)
Interactions with the UK statutory and cultural environment clearly impacted community-upheld gender norms, which merits further research.
Male-dominated religious establishments as a barrier for women seeking help.
When study participants were asked to share their thoughts on the response of religious institutions to DVA in their communities, they tended to present these as male-dominated and as less accessible to women. Since they were comprised or led by men, women hesitated to approach them when faced with DVA and to share their experiences with men in these establishments, as the two accounts below suggest:
So, he is an imam and he is a man and in some respect this is a big barrier for them (women) doesn't help the fact that most of their community leaders are men, which is quite disproportionate, actually because then you know, the issues come into that, talking to a men about abuse. (Bangladeshi study participant)
Some women who come to report DV are scared of the men themselves. They try to avoid men. (Eritrean study participant)
Speaking about the traditional Eritrean Orthodox community context, a research participant felt that there was a general sense and understanding in the community that the believers and the priests of the Tewahedo Orthodox Church had a mostly public relationship (which applied to both men and women), and that encounters between the two groups happened only on special occasions, which hindered communication of intimate problems. They explained:
The relationship with a priest is quite formal, very rigid. Unless you have a christening or wedding to plan, you wouldn’t approach a priest. If you do, it’s like, oh I spoke to a priest today, it’s a big deal kind of thing. You don't have an interaction with [a] priest apart from that. […] It's like, it's almost like they're closer to God. So, you don’t approach them unless you have a very good reason. And domestic violence is not considered a good reason. (Eritrean study participant)
Similarly, approaching a religious establishment would not be easy for a Bangladeshi Muslim woman. Mosques were described as male-dominated spaces where women’s voices were not listened to. Similar issues were raised by Ethiopian participants in situations where abusive husbands happened to be serving in the Church as priests. Consequently, many women would seek solace in their faith, prayer, and spiritual life, rather than turn to a religious establishment. In the Eritrean and Ethiopian communities, and to a certain extent also in the Bangladeshi community, community elders were also reported to have considerable influence on the family life, typically being invited to mediate marital conflict and situations of DVA. Those structures were described as more informal, but they were perceived to be equally male dominated. Some of the Eritrean respondents saw it as an intrinsic barrier stopping women from seeking help. Even if women asked for support, this was often described as futile because the majority of the mediators were male and did not understand women’s predicaments. The two accounts below illustrate the issues:
Of course, I don’t expect anything else, most mediators are men, so it’s not surprising that they can’t resolve those issues. Most, if not all community leaders and religious leaders are men. And they fail to resolve a problem and things escalate. Or women give up and decide to live like they used to. (Eritrean study participant)
When you approach elders/priests or the sheik (imam), even if she was physically abused no one encourages you to go to the law. Even if the woman wants to seek help, they discourage her and silence her. The mediation usually ends up with the woman to be patient and forgiving and he would never do it again. Every time it happens, they tell him he will get better. It’s a taboo to tell her to go to court. (Ethiopian study participant)
While not all religious mediators responded in the same way, the perception that they also adhered to the same cultural standards and expectations as the rest of the population in the community was strong in all study contexts. In addition, women affected by DVA could not easily divulge such experiences to religious mediators as they were all male and were anticipated not to understand a woman’s experiences.
Keeping the family together and marriage as an institution ordained by God.
Cultural expectations fixated on women’s endurance when dealing with an aggressive or abusive intimate partner made it harder for women to openly challenge perpetrators. Participants’ accounts suggested that women’s silence could be reinforced by emphasis being placed on faith-based conceptualisations of marriage as ordained by God. The community often deployed these understandings to reinforce culturally accepted social norms that limited women’s options. The accounts below are illustrative:
Well, there are many factors, so you know in [..] our culture where faith is a big thing where, you know marital relationships are conducted under faith-based oath. Yeah, so that's a sacred matrimonial relationship, which requires spiritual and religious leaders to advocate a break or authorise a divorce, professional and also the faith-based element that requires before even get[ting] to that stage of you know, separation, right? (Bangladeshi study participant)
Because marriage is ordained by God so it’s very very hard psychologically, mentally to contemplate breaking that. (Eritrean study participant)
Many Eritrean participants felt that religious teachers and mediators, either Muslim or Christian, were reluctant to advise divorce since this is not a formal religious teaching and because the clergy saw the continuation of marriage as a priority, as the following account suggests:
I would say religious leaders play a big role. Sometimes they would suggest a divorce when there’s no point in pursuing a relationship, but most of the time they are driven by the fact that they want to preserve the family. So, it might be a very subtle factor that affects the mediation process. So, they are doing their best to come to terms with the situation, to make some arrangements so that a relationship could be saved. (Eritrean study participant)
In all research contexts, divorce was perceived to be sinful and socially unacceptable. Therefore, if a woman had enough courage to reach out to her priest or imam for help, it is highly likely that she would be advised to try to work out a solution together with her husband. Several participants recognised, however, that clerics were there to support the preservation of marriage and did not find this response strange. An Ethiopian participant, for example, explained:
In our faith (Ethiopian Orthodox), I don’t expect the priests to encourage divorce or separation because marriage is holy and respectful. It is very difficult for them to advise separation; they might have to support them, but I don’t expect them to tell the couple to get divorced or separate. If I go to the church seeking help, I expect them to give us spiritual advice and discipline to help the relationship get better, not to tell us about separation. (Ethiopian study participant)
It should be stressed that these were the experiences of our research participants and should not be generalised. Other studies from the Ethiopian rural context, for example, have found that priests may not interfere with divorces if separation is inevitable, although they will not advise it directly (Istratii, 2020). It could be that in the diaspora context, priests’ responses may be even more orientated toward preserving marriage as the primary unit of the community abroad, although this would require further research. It may also be considered that in the UK, the role of religious leader is not typically a full-time job, which would restrict their involvement with the community and the family in general.
Regarding help-seeking barriers, Ethiopian study participants also proposed that abused women did not want to leave an abusive relationship because they feared that their children would grow up without a father. A participant recounted a story from her congregation about a woman experiencing domestic violence who refused to leave her husband when advised by peers because she did not want her children to blame her for family breakdown when they became older. The pressure to keep the family together because of children was also present in the Bangladeshi community, as illustrated below:
So, they would much rather be making the marriage work for the sake of the children is what you always hear. I’ve got to stay in this relationship, I don't want to be the single parent, I don't want people to know I've got my husband out, so those kind of elements and social pressures and shame comes into effect when people are kind of trying to deal with issues.. (Bangladeshi study participant)
Bangladeshi study participants also generally believed that women’s rights in Islam were often mispresented by the religious leaders and mosque establishments. Mosques could contribute to the culturally accepted norms about men’s violence against women, maintaining male domination when domestic violence was disclosed. The study suggested that women’s voices were seldom present within religious injunctions related to marriage, divorce and leaving a violent relationship. Similar to the Eritrean and Ethiopian communities, Bangladeshi study participants agreed that the focus of religious leaders had been on keeping the family together.
Distrust of social services in the host country
Research participants from all study clusters believed that their compatriots did not trust social services, which were commonly regarded as ‘taking children away’ and ‘destroying families.’ One participant explained:
[I] guess you know there is also fear, there is a shame. So, the fear would be if they've got children then, you know, the intervention from the organisation, would that lead to sort of social care coming in and, you know, taking their children away. There is a fear in that, and also you know there is an element of shame, which is very real fear for them. (Bangladeshi study participant)
To minimise this risk, women who experienced abuse but did not seek direct DVA support, instead mentioning children’s problems at school or health issues when communicating with health practitioners.
The accounts of Eritrean participants suggested that the welfare and asylum systems in the UK could also reinforce power imbalances between men and women due to social housing and welfare benefits being under the name of the husband. Even when a couple arrived together to the UK and claimed asylum together, they would not typically share equal rights as the norm would be for the husband to appear as the main applicant:
People come here and they don’t know the system, they are used to a specific way of life. In that system, a man is a breadwinner, and a woman looks after their family, there is no other income. But here you have a completely different system. There is a possibility of a woman working as well, and that’s where the shift is happening. Also, if it is a family reunion, a man arrives here and then brings his wife, she wouldn’t necessarily have access to public funds. She would have no recourse to public funds and technically, she’s dependent on a man. And that gives a man full control and power. And that makes a relationship very toxic, in terms of power imbalance (Eritrean study participant).
Ethiopian and Eritrean study participants additionally explained that there were women in their communities that had been married only in church whose relationship status was not recognised as legal in the UK. There was also a fear of deportations among newly arrived women being manipulated by their abusive partners who had been in the UK longer. One of the Ethiopian participants explained that her former husband used to threaten her that he will contact the Home Office should she report him, and that she will be deported to Ethiopia without her UK-born children. Since she was new to the country, with limited English language skills and isolated from the community, she had assumed that this was true.
Perceptions about formal services not fully addressing the needs of women from diverse migrant communities.
Participants’ accounts overall suggested a perceived lack of services that were accessible to women where they could feel understood. The analysis so far should have evidenced that women’s cultural identities were intertwined with their religious backgrounds and their faith, and hence there was a need for services that considered and could respond to the conditions of women from diverse religio-cultural backgrounds.
The women who participated in the women’s focus group were not aware of any specific services for the Ethiopian and Eritrean communities. Although they reported the existence of an Ethiopian community centre based in North London and a small charity called ‘Women Empowerment Group’ based in West London, they did not know of any dedicated domestic violence service targeted to these communities. They also mentioned that the Ethiopian community centre employed one paid staff, and that one volunteer had been active in the Orthodox Church and had made regular contact with the Ihit-le-Ihitoch women’s group to seek advice or refer women who are experiencing domestic abuse.
According to Bangladeshi study participants, the service provision landscape for their community in the UK has also been patchy, particularly when tackling DVA incidents and homicides that often remained hidden and forgotten. Racial discrimination, Islamophobia and a lack of cultural understanding were mentioned as barriers in accessing mainstream services by Bangladeshi women. The study participants reported that staff employed in statutory services struggled to understand Bangladeshi women’s reluctance to report abuse as perpetrators’ power of retribution generated fears for the victims.
Gaps in and needs for community responses.
In considering better responses to DVA, participants agreed that there was a need for speaking openly about the problem and improving awareness of VAWG and DVA laws within the community, among both women and men. They also spoke about the importance of working through religious leaders and clerics, as a way of reaching the wider community, as illustrated in the examples below:
Yeah, I think, you know, definitely, we need to really be talking about it [domestic abuse] more. We need to talk about this as an issue. This should not be one of many things which are just either brushed under the carpet or, you know, seen still as a taboo. We don't talk about it, so that's the first thing we did need to do, is talk about and we can say this is an issue. Here, you know that subject needs to be open, that needs to be talked about, and the places that we need to talk about are places like mosques. (Bangladeshi study participant)
I think it’s always good to raise awareness, as I said. Violence against women, the root cause of it is power imbalance, patriarchy and all that. They need to understand that. It’s only through educating that we can address those issues. One, we educate those religious leaders and the whole community. That might help to reduce incidents of violence. (Eritrean study participant)
When people first come to the UK, they get orientations. Maybe they should support religious leaders to go and teach them about this. Education should be given not only on faith-related issues but other practical areas too. They may not change everybody’s heart, but they can influence many of them. (Ethiopian study participant)
Participants’ accounts suggested that religious mediators and teachers, if effectively trained, could contribute to the prevention of DVA. Many believed that clerics and religious scholars need to be trained to understand the extent of the problem in their communities and its impact on families and to be equipped to speak about abuse as part of their sermons and regular teaching.
For example, participants noted that each Ethiopian Orthodox Church has a sebeka gubae, an office that supports administrative work in the church, where they could train 2–3 people as a team to respond to DVA. The team could make referrals and could collaborate with organisations providing practical support, including shelters or refuges. The mosques are also well placed to offer a wealth of Islamic guidance and serve as advocates for the rights of women within the faith. Participants noted that the responsibilities of both men and women within the family unit and their equal contribution to its harmony within Islam were rarely spoken about. The majority of imams they encountered served as mediators without much training or support. They believed that improving knowledge of Islamic practice could enhance understanding of the faith that assist also in the prevention of VAWG.
Many study participants proposed that religious mediators and teachers needed to be trained on safeguarding issues, trauma and the impact of DVA and victim safety so that they might provide better advice and support women affected by DVA. Participants believed that faith leaders should take seriously all forms of domestic abuse, not only physical harm, consider the risks to women’s and children’s lives and wellbeing, and act promptly where needed, instead of encouraging women to deal with the issue as a private matter.
An Ethiopian participant stated that religious figures should be ‘just like schoolteachers and health professionals,’ who should take action against DVA. As an example of good practice, a family committee was reported to have existed at the Eritrean mosque in London for few years. The imam who was interviewed for the study was trained in family therapy and held a degree in counselling. The mosque he belongs to has been proactive in the sense of encouraging people to come forward if they need help, and taking initiatives internally, such as discussing marriage problems during Friday sermons and holding lectures and seminars on resolving family conflicts.