'Behind closed doors' abusers are protected and victims shamed

On Tuli's* 17th birthday, a man in his late 20s manipulated her into marriage.

He told her he would be deported for working on an international student visa, unless she agreed to legally wed him.

"We got married and I came home like any other school day. Little did I know he was only using me to stay in this country," Tuli, who was already an Australian citizen, said.

Tuli said her then husband showed "his true colours" once they began living together. She was pulled out of school to move to South Asia until his bridging visa was approved.

While she lived with his family there, he coercively controlled her and her in-laws repeatedly humiliated her.

Once back in Australia, the abuser continued to track Tuli's phone, email and bank accounts throughout their marriage.

Although she studied and worked full-time, for years Tuli had next to no independence.

There were times when the abuser's assaults covered her in bruises and she couldn't properly talk or move.

"I still turned up to work every day. Didn't take a single day off because that was the only place that I felt safe," she said.

The physical, emotional, sexual, and financial abuse left the public servant "broken and frightened". "Shackled" to a perpetrator for eight years, Tuli said she fell into a societal "trap".

The first national study into migrant and refugee women in 2021 surveyed 1400 participants in 11 languages. It reported one in three women had experienced domestic and family violence and 63 per cent of them were married.

When Tuli and her ex moved to the ACT, there were fewer than 1000 residents who came from the same background.

In the close-knit community, she said it was not normal to discuss marital problems occurring "behind closed doors". She said violence against women was swept "under the carpet" and this stopped victims from speaking out.

"In [some South Asian communities] there's definitely the thinking that 'You only get married once', 'Just gotta work it out'," Tuli said.

"Every time I wanted to leave I would be convinced by friends and his family ... the shame culture is so big."

While she was still in primary school, Tuli remembered her family leaving the subcontinent for a "brighter and safer" future.

Like many migrants, she experienced cultural shock and struggled to be accepted in her new life. As a result, being a part of the expatriate and diaspora community was important.

At 13-years-old she discovered "the darker side of my culture".

Three family members assaulted her after she complained about a man in his 30s "grooming" her. The elders interrogated her for hours and eventually she decided to move cities rather than face the community.

"I was made to feel so little, worthless and like a criminal," Tuli said. "I wish they had hugged me that day and told me it was not my fault."

She realised "saving face" was more important than supporting family.

Fearing similar outrage, 17-year-old Tuli didn't tell her "relatively happy" family about her marriage for a year. But they were bound to find out.

"My mum stopped talking to me. All my friends left me. My whole world ... completely shut me out," she said. "[My ex] was the only one I had and whatever he was doing to me, I thought everyone experiences this in marriage.

Tuli said she was self-harming and tried to take her life multiple times.

"Perpetrators make you feel like [abuse] is always your fault ... so if I can't even keep my husband happy, I don't deserve to live," she said.

Between 2000 and 2022, an ACT domestic and family violence deaths review found 106 cases of DFV incidents where more than half (58 per cent) of were deaths by suicide.

A subset of 12 deaths in the review showed nearly all the abusers used coercive control, and most victims did not seek help from support services.

But there could be under-reporting of cases in communities like Tuli's.

A parliamentary inquiry and the national plan to end violence by 2032 mentioned the lack of consistent data, tailored services and distinct policy to address DV in marginalised communities.

For example, surveys could be missing information by categorising people into those who only spoke English at home and those who only spoke another language at home, but not both.

After eight years of abuse, Tuli called triple zero for the first time. In "a surreal state" she heard the operator's voice and hung up. But they called back and found out her husband had assaulted her.

Things did change after that day but justice was not necessarily served, Tuli said.

The court's apprehended violence orders could not prevent a smashed mailbox, or friends and family from helping the abuser contact her or enter her home.

The threat of violence also meant Tuli suffered panic attacks, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. With no housing support or shelter vacancies, she began living in her car and was homeless at one point.

"Everything was working against me," Tuli said.

She was also left with the burden of proving the abuse without enough money for a lawyer. To avoid threats and reliving her trauma in legal proceedings, Tuli dropped charges against her ex and settled their divorce out of court.

"I was escaping death. I just wanted out," she said.

More than a decade later, Tuli still counted herself "lucky". The Canberran said colleagues who turned into friends supported her throughout this process.

At the time of writing, Tuli knew at least three local women from similar backgrounds unable to escape domestic violence.

She said having more frontline workers (police, social workers and counselors) from diverse backgrounds would make reaching out for help less daunting.

Tuli is on track to complete her psychology degree next month and will soon be ready to join such a team.

Founder of women's support service Sitara Story and the 2023 ACT Local Hero Shamaruh Mirza said domestic violence is still a "taboo subject".

"These women [including refugees and asylum seekers] come from different countries and are quite unaware of the cultural norms and laws in Australia, particularly in relation to family life," she said.

Ms Mirza said they ran workshops teaching women to recognise all forms of abuse and to understand whether their residency rights are affected if they leave their partners.

"The first thing on their mind is always the children," she said. "It's very complicated and very sad."

Last year's death review acknowledged domestic and family violence occurred "differently" in culturally and racially marginalised communities.

It said it was "crucial" that responders had cultural sensitivity about diverse beliefs, values, customs and religious practices while also considering barriers like language.

The ACT government is due to respond to these recommendations in the second half of this year.

Team leader of ACT Policing's family violence unit detective sergeant Sam Norman said his unit was "particularly concerned" and "conscious" they needed to do more to support these communities.

"They may have low trust in government services. There may also be cultural barriers to women reaching out to police because there might be consequences in their community for doing that and speaking out," he said.

The next article in this series will highlight experiences of First Nations victim-survivors of domestic violence.

*Alias. The Canberra Times cannot legally identify the victim-survivor.