(1 year, 3 months ago)
Commons ChamberIt is a privilege to follow so many great speeches in this debate.
I personally do not love the word “victim”: it makes some of us feel as though we have neon signs above our heads, flashing away and marking us out as weak, naive or stupid enough to have ignored the signs that led us to be treated so badly. I wince whenever I read that description of myself, despite knowing that it was not stupidity or weakness and that actually anyone could find themselves in a similar situation.
There are many women who grow up with only this expectation of relationships, not even imagining anything better for themselves. The privilege I had is that I knew that I did not deserve it or had to just accept it—that it was totally wrong and had to stop. Being in this place, having been plucked out of a previously ordinary life of low-paid work, single parenthood and constantly juggling money around, gave me the new tools to recognise that I did not have to put up with living my life in constant fear. I found the confidence and courage to say “No”, but before living this extraordinary life I know I would not have done. I would have carried on feeling isolated and invisible, and I know that finding a way out would have been infinitely harder.
As MPs, we regularly meet or hear from non-governmental organisations and charities that centre on victims or deal in the business of domestic abuse, but in ordinary everyday life people living in that situation have to first come to the realisation that their constant fear is not okay. Then they have to decide that it is not okay for them, and then to fully realise and accept that they deserve better. That part is the hardest.
I have colleagues and friends here and professional briefings that reminded me of that constantly. Despite not discussing my own personal home life much, the logos of those NGOs were always in my inbox. MPs wore badges. These issues were talked about and debated, but not in most people’s homes. We have to break through to those who need us and make sure as legislators that these processes are as easy and stress-free as we can make them, and currently they absolutely are not.
I know that as MPs we want to encourage all victims to come forward to report rape, domestic abuse or stalking, and we want to reassure them that they will be listened to and helped and justice will be served. But can any Member here today look their constituents in the eye and promise that the current horrendous delays and the experience of handing over the intimate details of their lives for brutal and crass scrutiny, and to be regurgitated all over newspapers, is going to be worth it?
The Bill comes too late for me. I know that and that is something that I will never be able to do for myself. The prospect is unbearable, frankly. But I have been able to put myself and my life back together, although of course there will always be broken and missing pieces.
The Bill’s aims are to be welcomed, but we also need to see real and tangible changes, rather than simply hear a wish list put forward by both sides of the Chamber. We need first and foremost to listen to victims and experts delivering services on the ground, such as the Centre for Women’s Justice, Dr Karen Ingala Smith, Aurora New Dawn and many others who have been helping victims for a long time, and who centre women and prioritise their needs. They know as professionals that, as Dr Karen Ingala Smith said:
“A trauma-informed safe space creates space for action and recovery from violence and abuse and places the woman victim-survivor in control and in the centre.”
That is why it is essential for women to be able to access recovery spaces free from men. I am afraid that that must also include those who may no longer identify as men, in accordance with the Equality Act 2010. I refer to services such as Beira’s Place in Edinburgh.
Women who have experienced rape and male violent abuse will re-experience that trauma in the presence of biological men, whether it is considered kind to say so or not. That must always be something that we can say without fear of being cancelled or essentially constructively dismissed from our roles, whether in the sector or in politics. Likewise, men who have experienced domestic abuse or violence from a female perpetrator must also be able to heal and rebuild their lives in a setting free from women, if that is right for them, and receive specialist care.
Let us please use the Bill to make positive changes to improve the experiences of victims who need protection, support and justice. Let us ensure that it is worth victims coming forward, that they have safe and protective services, spaces and refuges if they need them and that they are not simply having to relive their trauma over and over again.
(2 years, 5 months ago)
Commons ChamberIt is a year since the nation held its breath, prayed in hope, and then received the terrible news. It was a body blow felt by women everywhere. Those grim headlines alerted us to the enormity of the problem, the sheer scale of male violence against women and girls. Women shared stories, organised and collectively shouted “No!” Every one of us had had, and has had, enough.
In a country such as ours, there is no acceptable excuse or reasonable explanation on earth for the rise in violent crime against women and no excuse or explanation for the abysmally low prosecution rates. Most women never receive justice for rape; most do not even get to try. Author Julie Bindel, a lifelong feminist campaigner, wrote this morning:
“If conviction rates for rape fall any lower in the UK, it might as well be decriminalised.”
That has also been said many times in this place by my hon. Friend the Member for Birmingham, Yardley (Jess Phillips). Why is that still the case? Whatever the reasons are, they cannot be used as excuses. They must be fixed urgently. We need to see changes immediately.
If every person who has been raped lay down in the street as though they had been murdered, we would be tripping over the bodies. If the bodies of women who had been killed by their former or current partners were there too, we would run out of space to walk. I welcome the Minister’s launching the Enough initiative as part of her Department’s strategic changes and Operation Soteria, but we in this place are all on notice. We cannot just allow the scale of male violence against women and girls to keep growing. It is our problem, it is society’s problem, it is everybody’s problem, but it is largely our responsibility.
In the meantime, the Office for National Statistics data released at the end of January showed that police forces recorded the highest-ever number of rapes and sexual offences last year—more than 63,000 rapes, 13% up on the previous period. Perhaps we need another lockdown so that women and girls can just live out our daily lives without the risk of being brutally hurt? Should women all stay quietly at home after dark, or maybe carry weapons?
The men who commit those crimes need to know that they will be caught, stopped and locked up. If they ruin a life, they should live with that action every single day, as their victims are forced to. Instead—what? They just go home after work, rape a woman, go to bed, catch a train the next morning, plan a bit of DIY at the weekend, knowing they will not be caught or prosecuted. Meanwhile, the person that they have brutalised slowly opens her eyes, tries to move her limbs in order to stand, walks slowly in a state of shock, checks her injured body, and then sits motionless, her brain attempting to make any sense of what happened to her and reliving the bits she remembers over and over. Stuck, paralysed and alone, she will have to piece together her sense of herself and the world anew. Every decision and thought will now carry weight like never before. A new way of living will be hers, her life interrupted and broken because a man decided to use his body to hurt, control and violate her.
Some of those women are able to speak up—they attack the useless system we have in the hope that that might bring about change—yet the majority will carry on being daughters, mothers and workers, changed for ever, mostly unnoticed by others who will not know their story. But we are here to make things better. Women should not simply have to accept that violence is a real and daily threat to bear in mind constantly. Male violence against women and girls should be seen as being as socially unacceptable and shocking as kicking an animal. The pursuit of justice must be a priority, reflecting the punishment lived by victims.
Dame Vera Baird reacted to today’s grim figures by saying:
“Much as we hope each year to finally witness the green shoots of a recovery, we are once again faced with the crushing reality that the criminal justice system is continuing to fail rape victims in ever-increasing numbers.”
Let us treat that as an emergency, as my right hon. Friend the Member for Normanton, Pontefract and Castleford (Yvette Cooper) said, and fix this broken system once and for all.
(4 years, 4 months ago)
Commons ChamberI would like to thank all those who have made this possible—in particular the right hon. Member for Maidenhead (Mrs May), whom I also thank for her kind words earlier.
A few months ago, when I rose to speak on the Domestic Violence Bill, I had no idea just how much of an impact those eight minutes would have on my life. Within a couple of hours my speech had gone viral on social media, it was all over the globe, in the press and on television and radio. I chose to speak about something extremely personal because I felt it was important to remind others, the vast majority of whom are of course women, that they are not alone, and to make the point that they have not been singled out because of who they are, their social or financial status, their profession, their lifestyle or their physical appearance.
Anyone can find themselves in a situation like I did, and nobody attracts another person with the truth about their brutal temper or their ulterior motives. A witty description of their controlling behaviour will not feature on their dating site profiles, and their work colleagues will have absolutely no clue that, when they return home from work, they do so to an extremely anxious partner, who will have spent their day trying to anticipate any bear traps or tripwires that could trigger the familiar pattern of a night that then spirals downwards through an exhausting routine of aggression, accusation, rage, threats and pain.
I wanted to speak directly to those women, like me, struggling to make sense of the conflicting message of words of endless love dished out with actions of brutal hate. That simply is not love. Love should never hurt like that. We can spend years trying to make excuses for our abusers, justifying their terrible behaviour and blaming ourselves, just as they do, but it is not your fault: it is never your fault. The only person to blame is the person who uses their fists or their physical power as a weapon.
After my speech, I received hundreds of emails. They still arrive every day as reminders of the grim reality in many households across the UK. The stories are often shocking and provoke reactions of horror and sorrow, but also relief because, mostly, these are survivors’ stories, told to me from their past. The ones I do not hear from as much, however, are those who are right in the middle of this reality right now. They are living locked down, locked in, locked away: threatened and terrorised by someone who thinks it is okay to use his wife, partner or family as an emotional or physical punch bag. What almighty cowards they are—bullies who seize the opportunity of a global crisis to show those smaller and weaker than them that they are in control. Whether you are a manual worker or a magnate with millions, if you use your fists or your fury to frighten those closest to you, you are certainly not in control, and you need to stop.
During these extraordinary last couple of months, we have rightly come to recognise those in our communities who carry out the vital services that we mostly take for granted. From refuse collectors to surgeons, and from teachers to council officers, all have played an incredibly important role in ensuring that things still work while all that we know is upside down. Those people have shown such dedication and love for our country when we need them the most. They have worked under enormous pressure, and above or beyond their pay grade or basic training.
Our police forces are not only upholding brand new emergency legislation, but keeping an eye on the most vulnerable in our communities, which includes those at risk of or suffering from domestic violence. They are dealing with a huge increase in incidents and doing their utmost to protect those who need to be protected. Likewise, there are wonderful people who work as counsellors, run helplines, or organise emergency refuge and shelter for those who need to flee from a situation in their home that poses more of a threat than a potentially deadly and incurable virus.
I thank the incredible women who have come into my life over the past few months and worked tirelessly to campaign for recognition of, and desperately needed funding for, the services that put women’s lives back together. They include women such as Elaine from my local domestic violence refuge, Rising Sun. She is listed on my phone if I need to talk to her for a bit or to have a boost, just as she is for many other women in my part of Kent. However, services such as Rising Sun, and national services such as Refuge, Women’s Aid and SafeLives, have had their funding cut. At a time when calls on such services have doubled, it is essential that the Government listen to Labour Front Benchers today as they explain what funds are urgently needed. I join them in urging the Government to ringfence 10% of the £750 million fund for domestic abuse charities.
The coronavirus is devastating lives, families and professionals, and we know that it will damage our economy for many years to come. It is, however, a false economy not to invest in the women and families whose lives are stunted and stifled by domestic abuse. Given the right support, those people can and will grow and soar. They will help to stop the cycles of violence surrounding them, and they will probably give back to society far more than they have taken out at their time of greatest need.
(4 years, 7 months ago)
Commons ChamberI had not heard of the fame of the Chorley ice cream parlour, but perhaps I should add it to my list of recess destinations. [Interruption.] The Lord Chancellor says he is going to come along as well.
On the question of Crown courts sitting, we need to bear in mind that, as reported by the crime survey, the most reliable measure of criminal offending, over the past nine years there has been a significant reduction in the total number of criminal offences, from about 9.5 million offences in 2010 to about 6.5 million offences today. That is a very welcome 30% reduction under this Conservative Government, so of course, bearing in mind the reduction in the number of criminal offences, one would expect to have fewer sitting days. However, we keep the question of Crown court sitting days under continual review. Just a few weeks ago, my right hon. and learned Friend the Lord Chancellor increased the number of Crown court sitting days in this current financial year by 700 to ensure that we keep working through the outstanding case load. The outstanding case load is at its lowest level since 2001. We will of course keep the question of Crown court sitting days under review for the next financial year—the one starting in a few weeks— and, if necessary, we will of course increase Crown court sitting days.
Discussions with Cabinet colleagues are at an early stage, but I can say that we want a commission or similar body to examine the issues and make recommendations that restore people’s trust in our democracy and the institutions that underpin it. No decisions have been made yet on the appointment of such a body, its scope or composition. I will update the House in due course.
A key ongoing concern for public law practitioners remains the accountability of constitutional processes and safeguards. To what extent will the commission include consultation with relevant external professions, such as the legal profession, and will they be invited to have substantial input and proper scrutiny?
The hon. Lady asks a very proper question. Indeed, I would envisage the body taking evidence from third parties, outside organisations and civic society more generally to provide a thorough evidence base before any recommendations are made.
(4 years, 10 months ago)
Commons ChamberSo what is domestic violence or abuse, and where do we get our ideas about it from? Often we see the same images and stereotypes on TV: housing estates, working-class families, drunk men coming home from the pub, women surrounded by children, and a sequence of shouting, followed by immediate physical violence or assault. But soap opera scenes tend to focus on only one or two aspects of a much bigger and more complex picture.
Domestic violence has many faces, and the faces of those who survive it are varied, too. There are 650 MPs in this place—650 human beings. Statistically, it is highly likely that some of us here will have directly experienced an abusive relationship, and we are just as likely as anyone else to have grown up in a violent household.
Abuse is not just about noticeable physical signs. Sometimes there are no bruises. Abuse is very often all about control and power; it is about abusers making themselves feel big, or biggest, but that is not how they present themselves. It is not how they win your heart. It is not how they persuade you to meet them for a coffee, then go to a gig, and then spend an evening snuggled up in front of a movie at their place. When they ask you out, they do not present their rage, and do not tell you that while they like the idea of strong, independent, successful women, they do not like the reality. They do not threaten, criticise, control, yell, or exert their physical strength in an increasingly frightening way—not yet. Not at the start. Not when they think you are sweet, funny and gorgeous. Not when they want to impress you. Not when they turn up to only your third date with chocolate, and then jewellery. Not when they meet your friends, your parents, or the leader of your political party. They do not do any of that then.
It is only later, when the door to your home is locked, that you really start to learn what power and control look and feel like. That is when you learn that “I’ll always look after you,” “I’ll never let you go,” and “You’re mine for life” can sound menacing, and are used as a warning over and over again. It is when the ring is on your finger that the mask can start to slip, and the promises sound increasingly like threats. It is then that you spend 12 or more hours at work longing to see the person you love, only to find that on the walk or tube journey home they refuse to speak a single, solitary word to you. Eventually, at home, they will find a way to let you know which particular sin you have apparently committed: your dress was too short, the top you wore in the Chamber was too low-cut, or you did not respond to a message immediately.
It starts slowly: a few emotional knocks, alternated with romantic gushes and promises of everlasting love, which leave you reeling, confused, spinning around in an ever-changing but always hyper-alert state, not knowing what mood or message awaits you. You tell yourself to be less sensitive, less emotional, to stop over-analysing every little thing. Ignore the moods—he never stops saying he adores you, right? All seems good again.
A whole week goes by: a week of summer evening walks home and maybe a drink on the way. A long weekend is booked and organised as a surprise while you are at work. The journey there is full of promise and promises—time away alone together in a place away from stress—but then it starts. In a strange city, his face changes in a way you are starting to know and dread, in a way that says you need to stay calm, silent and very careful. He goes for a walk. You sit in your hotel room and wait. You read a city guide and plan which sights you want to visit, mentally packing a day full of fun. But he seems to have another agenda. He doesn’t want you to leave the room. He has paid a lot of money and you need to pay him your full attention. You are expected to do as you are told, and you know for certain what that means—so you do exactly as you are told.
In the months that follow, those patterns continue: reward, punishment, promises of happily ever after alternated with abject rage, menace, silent treatment and coercive control; financial abuse and control; a point-blank refusal to disclose his salary or earnings, an assumption and insistence on it being okay to live in your home without contributing a single penny, as bills continue to pile up; a refusal to work, as your salary is great and public knowledge; false promises to start paying some specific bills, which you discover months later remain unpaid; and the slow but sure disappearance of any kindness, respect or loving behaviour.
You get to the stage where you are afraid to go home. After 15 hours at work, you spend another hour on the phone to your mum or a close friend, trembling, a shadow of your usual self. You answer the phone, and the sheer nastiness and rage tell you not to go home at all. So you leave work with your best friend, exhausted and shaking, and buy a toothbrush on the way, knowing that the verbal abuse followed by silent refusal to speak at all will be 100 times worse tomorrow.
Every day is emotionally exhausting. You are working in a job you love but putting on a brave face and pretending all is good, fine—wonderful, in fact. Then the pretence and the public face start to drop completely: being yelled at in the car with the windows down, no attempt to hide behaviour during constituency engagements —humiliation and embarrassment now added to permanent trepidation and constant hurt and pain. It is impossible to comprehend that this is the person who tells his family how much he loves you and longs to make you his wife.
But the mask has slipped for good, and questions are starting. Excuses are given to worried friends, concerned family and colleagues who have started to notice. One night, after more crying and being constantly verbally abused because you suggest he pay a bit towards your new sofa, you realise you’ve reached the end and you simply cannot endure this for another day or week, and certainly not for the rest of your life. Having listened intently for two whole weeks to the sound of his morning shower, timing the routine until you know it off by heart, you summon up the courage to take his front-door keys from his bag.
You have tried everything else on earth and know for certain, 100%, what awaits you that night if you do not act today. Heart banging, you hide them carefully and creep back into bed, praying he won’t discover what you have done. You know for certain what will happen if he does. You know an apology will not follow. You know for sure it will be because of what you have done and that it is all your fault. He leaves for the gym, telling you how much he adores you. He tells you to remember that you will always be his. He kisses you lovingly, as though there has not been months of verbal abuse, threats and incidents he knows you will never disclose. He tells you he will bring something nice home for dinner.
Sure enough, the next few days and weeks are a total hell—texts and calls and yelling: “You’ve locked me out like a dog”, “No one treats me that way”, “This is the last thing you will ever do”. You cry, you grieve for your destroyed dreams, you try to heal, you ignore the emails from wedding companies, but it is like withdrawal, and it takes six months.
But one day you notice that you’re smiling, that it’s okay to laugh, and that it’s been a week or two since the daily sobbing stopped. You realise you are allowed to be happy. You dare to relax and you dare to start to feel free. You realise it is not your fault and that he is now left alone with his rage and narcissism. You dare to start dating someone, and you realise that you have survived, but the brightest and most precious thing of all is realising that you are loved and believed by friends, family and colleagues who believe in you and support you.
So if anyone is watching and needs a friend, please reach out, if it is safe to do so, and please talk to any of us, because we will be there and we will hold your hand. [Applause.]
I thank the hon. Lady for that speech, which was simultaneously as horrifying and as moving a contribution in the Chamber as I have heard in my 22 years of membership of the House. Thank you.
(5 years, 1 month ago)
Public Bill CommitteesQ
Professor Trinder: I dispute the concept that it would be easier. I echo Nigel Shepherd’s point that it would be kinder. There is absolutely no reason why there would be a significant increase. In effect, the Bill just changes the way irretrievable breakdown is evidenced, by removing the need to present allegations that may or may not be true. What we may see—it happened in Scotland and other jurisdictions—is that there will be a temporary increase or spike in the number of divorces that are being brought forward. The law would not cause an increase in relationship breakdown; what it would do is enable people who are waiting for two years, sometimes five years, who are in a queue already because their marriage has broken down, to move on with their lives, sort out permanent agreements for their children and resolve money issues without having that long wait.
Mandip Ghai: For survivors who are thinking about leaving an abusive relationship, the point of separation is often the most dangerous time for them. There are lots of things they are thinking about, not just his reaction to the divorce. The Bill would just be one thing that would hopefully help her leave the abusive situation.
Q
Professor Trinder: That is a difficult issue, about which we have thought a lot. In general, the Bill very helpfully places responsibility for determining whether a marriage has broken down on the parties. In almost all instances, it is entirely up to the parties to determine whether the relationship has broken down and make that declaration. My only reservation with the one-year marriage bar is that it possibly has a symbolic importance to Members here. If the threat of removing the bar were to jeopardise the progress of the Bill, then I would not support it. Part of the reason for my making that statement is that there is not much evidence for needing to remove the bar.
In our study, we looked at a nationally representative sample of 300 undefended cases. Only four of those were brought within year two—months 12 to 24. Only one was brought in the 13th month, as soon as it was legally possible to bring those proceedings. Numerically, the size of the population is small. In those four cases we also looked at what the case was about: why the marriage had come to such a precipitate end, whether it was domestic abuse, and whether it was women trying to flee an abusive relationship. None of those cases involved domestic abuse. That is not to say that there would not be domestic abuse survivors wanting to leave a marriage soon, but the numbers are very small and divorce in itself is not a protective measure.
There is the potential for nullity in the case of a forced marriage. Non-molestation occupation orders would be a solution. In any case, women would be in a better position in that, although they would have to wait 18 months, they would not have to disclose particulars of behaviour.
Mandip Ghai: We would obviously want survivors to be able to end an abusive marriage as soon as possible. We would agree with the one-year bar if concerns about it were going to derail the Bill: looking specifically at the impact on survivors, there is not enough evidence. I would also want some evidence on the impact it would have on migrant women and migrant survivors. I do not have enough information on that at the moment. There is also the issue of the potential impact on immigration status if someone’s stay is dependent on their relationship with the abuser. We do have concerns about the one-year bar, but we would agree on that if it was going to derail the Bill.
Q
“reforms that “made divorce easier” were followed by significant increases in divorce rates”
and, moreover, that the effect of the move towards no-fault divorce laws seemed “permanent”. Is there research suggesting that we could see not just a spike in divorce but a continuation of increased divorce levels?
Professor Trinder: No.