When I think of my ex-husband, I’m constantly reminded of one thing.
He used to call me a bad mother in front of our children.
It was just one way I experienced a pattern of abuse for nearly two decades and, as South Asian Heritage month draws to a close, I want to highlight domestic abuse within our communities and to push for cultural change.
For 18 years, I endured coercive control, financial and emotional abuse from my ex-husband, as well as my in-laws, before I escaped with my children.
He would question everything I bought from the shops – harassing me over what I had purchased, while pretending he was going to buy a house for us.
Instead, he coordinated with his parents to bring us into their home, where we lived in squalid conditions.
If I reacted to any of this, he would call me ‘emotional’ and ‘sensitive’.
I am a British Sikh woman in my 40s, and was raised in a traditional Indian household.
From a young age, I was conditioned to respect my parents and learned that I should stay quiet – I was often shouted at – or even hit – if I tried to express an opinion or stand up for myself.
My mother also sold me on the myth of marriage. ‘Just wait until you’re married,’ she would tell me – promising I would be able to go out, wear nice clothes and wear make-up and live my life on my own terms.
But those promises of freedom never came to pass.
This Is Not Right
On November 25, 2024 Metro launched This Is Not Right, a year-long campaign to address the relentless epidemic of violence against women.
With the help of our partners at Women’s Aid, This Is Not Right aims to shine a light on the sheer scale of this national emergency.
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I became a solicitor, a profession I love. Work was a space where I would come alive, where I could prove to myself what I was capable of in ways I never experienced at home.
I met my ex-husband during my first few months of university, at a dinner event hosted by the Asian Society. He was five years older, already working, and struck me as a family-oriented, sociable person.
But the abuse – from him and his family – started before we were even married. At our engagement, my future father-in-law told me that I could not take a job in London.
After the wedding, we moved in with my in-laws. My husband was the only son in his family and his mother treated him like a king.
She told me often that many other women were after him, as though I should feel lucky to have him.
I felt like a hostage. I was able to find a job locally but I did this around serving the household: cooking, cleaning, and food shopping.
Over the years, as our children arrived, things only got worse as I was expected to solely look after them, clothe them, and take them to and from school.
When I tried to talk to my husband, his response was always, ‘You’re lucky you have my parents to help,’ but the reality was I was looking after them too, taking them to medical appointments and acting as their interpreter.
As we end South Asian Heritage Month, it is very much the right time to highlight domestic abuse within our communities and to push for cultural change
I felt completely trapped. There was enormous cultural pressure to make my marriage work, no matter how unhappy I was. I lived in a heightened state of stress, constantly in survival mode and unable to rest.
Still, though, I didn’t recognise domestic abuse and had begun to believe that I was the problem – that I was a bad person or a bad wife.
But eventually, I realised the reality of my situation and knew I had to leave with my 10-year-old son and 8-year-old daughter.
I started to smuggle my children’s clothes out, item by item, hiding them in my spare office at work. I found a rental property and quietly used my own funds to set up a bank account in my sole name.
A few weeks before I left, I told my ex I needed time and space to think. I didn’t say I was leaving for good or mention divorce to him – I feared if I did, I might not get out alive.
My in-laws tried to convince me to stay, but I started to see their approach as being rooted in cultural expectations – the same cultural pressure that had led me to marry someone like their son in the first place.
Divorce remains a taboo in my culture but this was a battle unlike any other. His family tried to destroy my life when I moved out.
All financial support for the children was cut off while my soon to be ex-husband began spending our joint savings without my consent. Then he started bad-mouthing me publicly, and refused to sign the divorce petition, despite his affair.
Most damaging of all, he began directing his abuse toward our children.
He repeatedly filmed them and made them say how much they enjoyed going to his (even though they told me they hated it) to use as evidence in court hearings.
They became collateral damage in his efforts to hurt me.
The divorce proceedings in court mirrored my abuse. I was shouted at, disbelieved and put under unbelievable pressure despite already being traumatised.
I was advised by my solicitor that judges prefer to see parents getting along and that if I wanted to relocate with the children, it would only be permitted if I got along with their father.
The experience was harrowing, lasting over two years as various divorce and custody arrangements were decided, and it nearly financially crippled me.
There were times when I felt like I couldn’t keep going but today, I am finally divorced and rebuilding my life.
The most difficult and painful repercussion is witnessing the continued emotional abuse of the children by their father. It’s extremely hard to live with and is both psychologically and physically damaging to them.
Get help from Refuge
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse, help is available. Refuge offers confidential support for survivors from all backgrounds. No one should suffer in silence.
During South Asian Heritage Month, let’s break the silence and stand together against domestic abuse – because every survivor deserves safety, respect and the chance to rebuild their life.
The National Domestic Abuse Helpline can be reached at 0808 2000 247 and provides a live translation service for all languages – ensuring support is accessible to everyone. Visit www.refuge.org.uk for more information.
My story is one of many, yet too often silenced by cultural stigma and fear. In South Asian culture, there are issues rooted in longstanding gender norms that place boys on a pedestal from birth.
This dynamic can create environments where control, entitlement, and emotional neglect become normalised.
If we were more open about these topics, perhaps we could help others break the cycles of abuse; I think that if I had been able to read someone else’s story during my own marriage, I might not have stayed for over 15 years.
Personal experiences have the power to educate, validate and empower others. As we end South Asian Heritage Month, it is very much the right time to highlight domestic abuse within our communities and to push for cultural change.
Domestic abuse is a generational issue – it’s passed down to children unless we confront it.
It transcends culture and community – and trust me, every survivor deserves support, respect and freedom.
*The survivor featured in this piece has requested to remain anonymous for her safety and privacy. We are using a pseudonym to protect her identity.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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