The media shapes a large portion of how we understand the world around us. It has the power to place us in other people’s shoes and alter our perceptions of issues where we lack direct experience.
Fortunately, the majority of adults in the UK will not experience domestic abuse during their lifetime. Instead, they will rely on depictions of abuse in the media to broaden their knowledge of its various manifestations.
Suddenly, fictional tales are not just stories nestled within a book or on our TV screens. For many, they come to define how we view abusive relationships. Because of this, authors and filmmakers have an enormous responsibility to portray abuse accurately and thoughtfully.
However, as Emma Armstrong, CEO of I Choose Freedom, points out, they ‘sadly too often fail to do so.’
Fixating on Violence
Consider EastEnders’ Little Mo, whose husband slams her face into a plate of Christmas dinner. Or Mariam in A Thousand Splendid Suns, who is forced to chew on pebbles until she breaks her molars. Ellis Ruth in A Cruel Love is beaten so badly that she miscarries. And Lily Bloom endures the physical manifestations of her husband Ryle’s temper in It Ends With Us. What do these harrowing stories have in common? They all centre around violence at the hands of partners. However, by focusing predominantly, if not exclusively, on domestic violence, the media glosses over less obvious, but equally damaging, forms of abuse like gaslighting, coercive control and financial abuse.
Emma Armstrong explains why this is so troubling:
‘It can feed into misconceptions, old myths and stigmas associated with domestic abuse, such as there must be physical violence in a relationship for it to be abusive,’ she says. ‘This is incredibly dangerous as survivors living in abusive situations are likely to question if the relationship is abusive at all if violence is not present.
Since February, the act of coercive control is now ‘on par’ with other domestic abuse offences in England and Wales. Those convicted of coercive control will face tougher management from police and probation services. But while the law has finally caught up, the media unfortunately has not.
‘We know that coercive controlling behaviour is one of the biggest risks in domestic homicides, leaving women and children at risk of being murdered,’ Armstrong adds.
The domestic homicide timeline has eight stages, beginning with an unhealthy, whirlwind relationship, intensifying with controlling behaviour and culminating in the death of the victim. If the media continually fails to shed light on the early stages of domestic abuse, fewer people will learn to identify the warning signs of a dangerous relationship and leave before the situation escalates. At the expense of victims, authors and filmmakers prefer to fixate on violence, caring more about ‘good drama’ than depicting domestic abuse in some of its more subtle forms.
Stereotype of the ‘Typical Victim’
The media also has the power to influence stereotypes of who the ‘typical victim’ of domestic abuse might be. Is it Martha in The Housemaid Is Watching who moves unseen, like a phantom, throughout the novel? Or someone like Sanica Ossinast in The Hurricane Wars, whose imprint on the narrative is so minimal that her name isn’t revealed until halfway through the book? Or maybe introverted Kate Ayres, the protagonist of Weyward, who prefers the company of nature to humans? Perhaps it is none of them.
The portrayal of these characters is problematic for several reasons. Firstly, it implicitly blames the victim for the abuse they suffered. Affording fictional victims of abuse little direct speech or screen time reinforces the harmful misconception that their shyness or introversion is the reason why they wound up in an abusive relationship. As Armstrong explains, the media is ‘compound[ing] survivors’ misplaced shame and guilt’ by falsely characterising victims as weak-willed, when in actuality ‘there is no excuse for abuse’ and ‘the reason behind this behaviour is power and control.’
Secondly, it feeds into misconceptions about who can, or supposedly cannot, be a victim. Let me clarify: anyone can fall prey to domestic abuse. Someone loud, outgoing, or feisty can be a victim. It is true that the longer a victim remains in an abusive relationship, the more like a shadow of their former selves they become. But by solely portraying victims of domestic abuse as timid, the media patently ignores the reality that anyone, regardless of their personality, is susceptible to coercive control. Evidence shows that these harmful stereotypes could be preventing friends, family members and the police from realising someone is trapped in an abusive relationship, simply because they are not the ‘typical victim.’
Unreliable Narrator
After its release in 2015, The Girl on the Train became an instant bestseller. Its protagonist, Rachel, has behavioural issues, an alcohol addiction and problems recollecting past events. The plot is irrelevant, but one of the biggest revelations of the novel is that many of Rachel’s memories are entirely incorrect because her ex gaslit her. Here, domestic abuse is reduced to a shocking plot twist. More worryingly, it makes readers reconsider the trust they placed in Rachel as the narrator.
The film I, Tonya also toys with the idea of an unreliable narrator. Directed by Craig Gillespie in 2018, the story centres around the infamous figure skater Tonya Harding, who suffered abuse throughout her life. By frequently breaking the fourth wall and underscoring scenes of violence with upbeat ’70s tunes, Gillespie aimed to show how Tonya was ‘not connected’ to reality and had become unfazed by the abuse that was ‘an all-the-time occurrence.’ Both of these stories amplify yet another harmful misconception prevalent in the media: that victims are not entirely trustworthy. In a country where over half of the victims have to report abuse at least twice before they are taken seriously by the police, the media cannot continue perpetuating the idea that survivors are unreliable or that their version of events cannot be trusted.
Authors and filmmakers have an artistic license that enables them to freely explore themes of abuse in a manner they see fit. This, however, does not prevent us from critiquing their work, especially when the subject matter is so sensitive and their reach potentially so vast. Abuse is nothing to joke about. It deserves to be portrayed with an accuracy that makes us understand all of its hidden manifestations. After all, people’s lives are literally on the line.
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