In a leafy suburb in Auckland, Stevie cuddles her 4-year-old daughter. The mother of three is in her early 40s, was privately educated, graduated with a degree and lives in a house owned by her parents’ family trust.
Across her chest are deep scars from where her ex-partner scraped at her. Her genitals are damaged, the physical scars of rape.
Her youngest child – the preschooler she soothes while she talks to the Listener – was conceived by rape. Stevie was exhausted, coping with a 6-week-old baby when her partner attacked her, resulting in another pregnancy.
The man is now in prison, jailed for fraud and burglary; domestic violence charges against him were added later.
Domestic violence is not a blue-collar problem or the domain of fist-happy drunks. In homes from Kaitaia to Bluff, women are being battered, victims of emotional and psychological abuse. Socio-economics do play a part: for women like Stevie, financial resources, and friends with spare rooms, can offer shelter. But every year, about 50,000 women from all levels of society and their children seek the help of Women’s Refuge. Put them all together and it’s the population of Nelson.
“Safer How, Safer When”, a groundbreaking study by Women’s Refuge New Zealand, has uncovered a more detailed picture, a nightmare scene of often torturous environments in which more than half of the 3500 women surveyed actually feared their partner might kill them.
One in eight homicide victims are women who die at the hands of their intimate partner, police statistics show. From 2009-21, 115 women were killed by a male partner, either their current or former one. One in three New Zealand women have experienced physical or sexual violence in their lifetime, according to the 2019 Family Violence Study, by University of Auckland researchers Janet Fanslow and Tracey McIntosh.
And in a 2011 UN report, New Zealand ranked worst among 14 OECD countries that supplied statistics for reported physical violence by a partner.
Stevie lived in fear of her life. But she didn’t tell anyone. Her partner kept her away from her family and friends, who had no idea what was going on. They ran a successful business together, welcomed their first child. But his drinking escalated and with it, violence.
“He got drunk and he got kind of scary. He kicked me and strangled me. Strangling was his favourite thing to do. Then he threatened to shoot me with a gun he had in the garage.’’
After an attack – hitting her, pulling out her hair, once stabbing her with a car key – her ex would be full of apologies. He gave up alcohol, but then became addicted to methamphetamine. Stevie rang the police but never followed up with pressing charges until he was later safely behind bars for burglary and fraud.
“I was too terrified that he would kill me and my kids,” she says flatly. “He threatened to do that and he was so capable of it.’’
Stevie never accessed Women’s Refuge services because she had her own house. But once he left and was imprisoned, the refuge’s Whānau Protect services helped her turn her home into a mini-fortress, adding safety locks, alarms and security lights.
Stevie talks as though still in disbelief. “I still can’t believe this happened to me. How did I end up with such a loser? Domestic violence happens to absolutely anyone – I thought I’d be the last person.’’
Physical and mental scars
On the South Island’s West Coast are two safe houses for women and children. Women’s Refuge’s geographical boundary for its West Coast office is a long, narrow strip from Karamea to Haast, a similar driving distance to the drive between Hamilton and Levin.
The two houses catering for eight whānau are full. They’re in secret locations, supported by 10 full-time staff who move between them while also aiding at-risk women who remain in their homes. At the helm is Trish McMurtrie, who has worked in this grim field for 19 years. She has known women who have died at the hands of their partners. “And that’s just me; I’m one person out of nearly 400 people nationwide.”
In an ideal world, she says, “I’d like to be made redundant because then I’d know that family violence is no longer an issue”.
If you take Women’s Refuge’s first survey findings as representative of those accessing its West Coast services, nearly half the women victims have been strangled by their abuser; more than half have been threatened with death; a third have been left with brain injuries that could affect them long term, and more than half have been held hostage by their abusive partner.
Specifically, one in five were beaten until they were unconscious, and one in five has been hospitalised for their injuries. Then there are the psychological scars: their abusers have isolated them from their families, stopped them from accessing health services, told them they’re worthless and better off dead, stalked them and forced them on or off contraception – another form of coercive control.
“It can be the stuff that others can’t see that hurts these women the most and is most damaging,” says McMurtrie. “And I’m not putting down physical abuse because that is a danger to life. But a lot of the women we talk with say, “I wish he would just give me a hiding and not do this psychological stuff.’’
On average, it takes a woman seven attempts to leave her abuser for good. She’ll stay in a safe house for about 26 days.
McMurtrie knows women often don’t want to leave their partners and she doesn’t judge them if they return to them. Home is where they’ve got their possessions, often pets, a bed they like. They also often feel safer at home “because they know what their partner is thinking and how they are behaving. When they are away, they can’t read his body signs and cues and they feel scared about that.”
One woman arrived at a West Coast refuge seven months pregnant and didn’t leave until after her son’s first birthday. Most are aged 25-40, but McMurtrie has helped one woman who was 86 and had lived with her abuser for 30 years. According to Women’s Refuge’s 2021/22 annual report, 41% of those seeking help were Māori and 40% Pākehā.
The housing crisis and high cost of living also play into women’s choices. “A lot of the women we see will know their partners well and think, ‘Okay, I need to get somewhere safe, have a little bit of a rest, think about what it is that I am doing,’” says McMurtrie. “Then it might be that they do choose to go back home because it’s more simple than having to try and find somewhere [else] to live.’’
Behind the curtains
The “Safer How, Safer When” report is the first of a three-stage study that should provide a better understanding of the risks to look out for, says Women’s Refuge head of policy Natalie Thorburn. Funded by Contact Energy, it is the first of its kind in New Zealand. The first stage analysed risk profiles carried out on 3500 women. Stages two and three will be conducted over the coming year.
Thorburn – who worked on the front line before turning to her policy job – was shocked by the findings in the first tranche. “I didn’t realise until we saw those stats in black and white quite how terrifyingly lethal a lot of the violence [was] that people were experiencing at the time they come to refuges. To find out half have had their lives threatened was shocking.”
Thorburn was also taken aback reading about extreme tactics by abusers – “monitoring everything she does in a day, dictating her daily routines. Living in those situations makes even the idea of getting help seem completely unfeasible.
“Telling them that they should kill themselves was a really high one. There is such a strong narrative of women being called crazy. That completely undermines them.”
And sometimes, the abusers get their way. Thorburn says more women commit suicide after leaving a refuge than die by homicide. “So we found out about not just the severity of this violence they endure but the undermining of their potential to live.”
Since 2022, Women’s Refuge has been trialling a new approach to helping victims. Rather than mainly focusing on the risks of injury or death, it has widened it to consider the danger to the woman’s health, reputation, credibility, financial stability, dignity, connectedness and life prospects.
When women can be safe in their own homes, the organisation tries to help them stay by making the house more secure, as it did with Stevie. It can also assist a victim to get a protection order, although Thorburn says they can be difficult to enforce. “We have women who say things like, ‘I’ve called the police 15 times when he’s breached it and they keep saying call us back if he actually commits a crime.’”
Status no barrier
Heather Walton is still embarrassed that she was the victim of domestic violence but she wants to talk about it to debunk some myths. The successful Auckland real estate agent runs an arm of Ray White with her second husband, Mark Bycroft.
She married her first husband and got pregnant quite quickly – his idea, pressure she now recognises as a form of coercive control.
In the 2000s, she had a glamorous home in upmarket Remuera and was living the rich-list life. But it was smoke and mirrors: behind the curtains, her husband was beating her. A pattern set in.
“Life goes back to normal and then things start to escalate again and again and again to another event,” says Walton. “And then an event happens and the apology comes in and the jewellery and the flowers come. The cycle carries on. But what happens is the event gets worse and worse.”
For Walton, the tipping point was when her husband brutally attacked her in front of their son. “I was fearful for my life and that’s when I phoned friends and said I need help. They gave me the strength to go to that next level and they took me to the police station.
“When the guy was photographing my body, he said it was the worst case of domestic violence he’d ever seen. “I was thinking, ‘Crikey, I’m not even that bad.’ My face wasn’t damaged but my body was, from being kicked as I lay on top of my son.’’
She laid assault charges but then dropped them. Why? “Because he was the father of my son and I would get the whole guilt trip of, ‘Well, if I have an assault charge on my record I won’t be able to take him to Disney-land or to America,’ and things like that.
But she did leave her marriage, enduring bankruptcy as the whole Remuera house-of-cards lifestyle collapsed.
Despite the life she has since built, Walton still feels shame about her past. “I’m an intelligent woman; I know that it wasn’t my fault, but because your self-esteem has been broken down, that’s just how you feel.
“You believe that you’re fat or you’re stupid or you’re whatever it is he has told you. It’s an absolute mental minefield.
“To break someone out of that, they need an enormous amount of support.”
Walton has written a book about rebuilding her life, and speaks to groups when she can about healing and growing from adversity.
“I know a lot of women who are suffering domestic violence from wealthy homes and they’re terrified to leave. What does their life look like after they leave? Who are their friends? What are people going to think?”'
Limiting call-outs
Why don’t women call the police earlier? The research points to a fear of ongoing retribution from their partners. An estimated 67% of family violence incidents are not reported. For those who do call, is the help there?
In a post-election briefing to incoming Police Minister Mark Mitchell, Police Commissioner Andrew Coster said reports to police of family harm incidents had jumped 81% in 10 years. Police time was being consumed in homes and away from the public places where people wanted to see them, he said. Coster said family harm call-outs could involve a complex mix of social problems, including drugs, financial issues and mental health.
Coster signalled a “managed withdrawal” from the police’s expanded role in the social domain, including a mental health crisis response and “right sizing our response to family harm”, with community agencies becoming more involved. He said police had been piloting a new risk assessment and triaging system for family violence calls, “for lower priority events where an immediate risk to life is not present”. A 111 operator would assess the severity of the situation before deciding whether to send a patrol car.
“To suggest the police can triage family violence call-outs over the phone and determine whether they need to attend is not acceptable,” says Wellington-based Family Court barrister Vicki Currie. “Women need the security of being able to say to their aggressor, ‘I am going to call the police,’ and for that to be a promise and not an empty threat. Women will not report family violence if they do not feel safe doing so.”
Merran Lawler, chief executive officer of the National Network of Family Violence Services, argues that police need to return to arresting and prosecuting the perpetrators of family violence rather than following the amorphous “family harm” category it adopted some years ago.
“While family harm was intended to be a police approach to “eyes-wide-open policing” it has become a catch-all for everything from instances of serious, sustained family violence, coercive control and intimate partner abuse to shouting arguments between brothers about who gets more time on the PlayStation, she says.
“A triage system must prioritise family violence call-outs rather than broad family harm call-outs and the resulting police attendance should focus on removing the perpetrator rather than police acting as social workers.’’
The switch of definition from “family violence” to “family harm” also concerns University of Auckland associate law professor Carrie Leonetti, who says it is too general and often confusing.
“The police seem to be suggesting that people are just calling them nonstop for trivial reasons and they can’t manage it.
“That is inconsistent with everything we know from social science evidence. We know that what typically triggers the final flight and the final calls to police is that the violence has actually become more severe, or targeted at a different person, such as a child. "
She says US research has found victims of domestic violence attempt to leave only after the eighth event on average, and only a fifth contact the police. “So women will put up with violence until it’s the kids, or they’ll put up with violence until it becomes sexual or becomes potentially lethal.’’
Responding to the criticism, a police spokesperson said family harm will be no different to other police response categories, which are also triaged. (Women’s Refuge chief executive Ang Jury has been personally reassured by Coster that police will attend immediately if a woman’s safety is at risk).
“Family harm calls where there is immediate risk to the safety of the victim is designated P1 – police’s top priority response – and we will respond as soon as possible,” the spokesperson said.
“Family harm encompasses a range of matters, from truancy or an argument to more serious cases with assault or violence. Police are signalling that mandatory attendance at every family harm event is an unsustainable model. Police are proposing a different way to triage and [refer] non-urgent calls to the most appropriate services.”
Breaking the cycle
Lawler also says our law and justice system focuses on “the endless line of victims” rather than trying to break the abuse cycle. “The perpetrators are a secondary consideration in the system and often it is only if and when they are charged that they are able to access support services to change their behaviours.”
Free nonviolence programmes are mainly only court-sanctioned, for a crime or breach of a protection order, when they should be more widely available to men who want to stop being abusers. Lawler says we need to stop talking about family violence in “soft” terms. “The touchy-feely ‘family violence is not okay’ is far from the truth – family violence is a crime. We don’t say ‘burglary is not okay’. It speaks volumes that we diminish the impact and cost of family violence.”
In the South Island, husband and wife Taimalelagi Mataio (Matt) and Sarah Brown are taking a different approach with their grassroots anti-violence movement, She is Not Your Rehab. They have just released a free digital app, Inner Boy (supported and funded by the Ministry of Social Development), which, Sarah Brown says, aims to help men on a 30-day recovery path from intergenerational trauma and abuse.
The movement – a book, online programme and now the app – came about to fill a big gap. She says many of the online anti-violence courses were “old-school anger management courses” from overseas. For many men, paid therapy is not accessible or affordable.
Brown used to work on domestic violence phone lines and says the waiting lists for paid therapy are long and the therapy is expensive – only certain people can access help and it’s even tougher for men outside big cities.
“All of our tools are free because men should be able to get support if they want to do the work and change. Our goal as a couple and a whānau is to create a whole generation of cycle breakers.”
Missing the Signs
Police are failing to recognise subtle forms of domestic violence and control, a researcher says.
New Zealand does a poor job of making our domestic violence perpetrators pay for their abuse, according to University of Auckland associate law professor Carrie Leonetti, who thinks we let far too many abusers get away with behaviour that would be deemed criminal in other countries.
With one of the highest rates of intimate-partner violence in the developed world, “we fail across a series of institutions”, says Leonetti. “The police have historically had very poor responses to family violence. They’re fairly good at responding to physical or sexual assaults, but there are all kinds of family violence that are not physical or sexual assaults and their track record has utterly failed to recognise that.”
One example, she says, is “coercive control, which police have poor training in and a poor ability to recognise how to respond to”. It may include behaviour such as stopping someone from accessing health services, emptying bank accounts or taking away forms of communication. Those aren’t crimes in New Zealand. “It is a way to keep the victim from leaving. It’s just a series of strategies and tactics to make it too hard or impossible for the victim to leave.”
Stalking someone is not listed as a crime in the Crimes Act, either, but treated as a civil “harassment” matter. In Australia, the US and the European Union, stalking is a crime.
Leonetti believes police are failing to respond to or charge perpetrators of family violence: hospitalisation rates are up, and so are calls to 111. “But the number of people charged has fallen 16% and convictions about 20%. And that is not consistent to me.”
Assaults within family relationships now account for two-thirds of reported serious assaults, the Salvation Army’s “State of the Nation 2024″ report says, and police in the 2022-23 financial year attended 177,548 incidents, up nearly 42% in five years. However, 62% of family harm call-outs do not result in recorded offences.
“What the police have tried to suggest is that everybody’s just calling more [often] now,” Leonetti says. “But if all of this were more calls but fewer crimes, then I would expect hospitalisations to go down, and they’re up.
“I’ve actually had individual police officers say to me, ‘If it isn’t an assault, we don’t even know what to do with it.’ And that’s unacceptable.”
Roll call of pain
Findings from the Women’s Refuge’s “Safer How, Safer When” report:
- Nearly half of refuge women had been strangled by their abuser.
- More than half had been stalked.
- More than half had been held hostage.
- More than half disclosed that their abusers had threatened to kill them, and they believed the abusers were capable of doing so.
- More than half were stopped from accessing health services or concealed injuries at the hands of their abusers.
- 84% were accused of things they hadn’t done.
- 79% of victims’ children were afraid.
- More than half had their belongings destroyed by their abuser.
- More than half were stopped from seeing family and friends.
- Four in 10 were assaulted while pregnant.
- 14% were forced to get pregnant or continue or terminate a pregnancy.
- 11% were forced to use substances.
Where to get help:
If it’s an emergency and you feel that you or someone else is at risk, call 111.
· Need to talk? Free call or text 1737 any time for support from a trained counsellor
· Suicide Crisis Helpline – 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO)
· Lifeline – 0800 543 354 (0800 LIFELINE) or free text 4357 (HELP)
· Youthline – 0800 376 633, free text 234 or email talk@youthline.co.nz or online chat
· 0800 What’s Up - 0800 942 8787
· Samaritans – 0800 726 666
· Depression Helpline: 0800 111 757 or free text 4202 to talk to a trained counsellor, or visit depression.org.nz
· Anxiety New Zealand - 0800 269 4389 (0800 ANXIETY)
· Healthline – 0800 611 116
· Additional specialist helpline links: https://www.mentalhealth.org.nz/get-help/in-crisis/helplines/
Where to get help:
If you are a victim of family violence, sexual violence or there is someone that makes you fearful, threatens or harasses you, seek help as soon as possible. You have the right to be safe.
]If it’s an emergency and you feel that you or someone else is at risk, call 111.
· Safe to Talk sexual harm helpline: 0800 044334, text: 4334, email: support@safetotalk.nz
· Rape Crisis: 0800 88 33 00
· Women’s Refuge: 0800 733 843
· Shine domestic abuse services free call: 0508 744 633 (24/7, Live Webchat is also available)
· Hey Bro helpline - supporting men to be free from violence 0800 HeyBro (439 276)
· Family violence information line to find out about local services or how to help someone else: 0800 456 450
· Oranga Tamariki line for concerns about children and young people: 0508 326 459, email: contact@ot.govt.nz1737,
· Need to talk? Free call or text: 1737 for mental health support from a trained counsellor
· Youthline: 0800 376 633, free text: 234, email: talk@youthline.co.nz
· Shakti - for migrant and refugee women - 0800 742 584 - 24 hours
· Elder Abuse Helpline: 0800 32 668 65 - 24 hours, text: 5032, email: support@elderabuse.nz
· Wellington Help for individuals, whānau and communities affected by sexual abuse in the Wellington Region: 04 801 6655 & push 0 at the menu - 24 hours
· Aviva For free 24/7 support line, call 0800 AVIVA NOW (0800 28482 669)
Where to get help for sexual assault:
If it’s an emergency and you feel that you or someone else is at risk, call 111.
· Safe to Talk – 0800 044 334 or free text 4334 for help to do with sexual harm. Available 24/7 and staffed by trained counsellors. Webchat or email support@safetotalk.nz.
· The Harbour Online support and information for people affected by sexual abuse.
· Women’s Refuge 0800 733 843 (females only)
· Male Survivors Aotearoa - Helplines across NZ
Where to get help for addictions:
If it’s an emergency and you feel that you or someone else is at risk, call 111.
· General helpline: phone 0800 787 797, text 868
· Māori Helpline – kaupapa Māori support services: phone 0800 787 798, text 8681
· Pasifika Helpline – Pacific support services: phone 0800 787 799, text 8681
· Youth Helpline – support for working through issues affecting young people: phone 0800 787 984, text 8681
· Need to talk? Free call or text 1737 any time for support from a trained counsellor
