This article references ableism and sexual and domestic abuse.
“He expected sex; it was never just helping me. The more help I needed, the more I had to beg for it. The more bedbound I got, the worse it got. I had to give up my body to get basic, essential things done because that was the only thing I had to trade,” says Maisie*, a 39-year-old from Northamptonshire who became disabled following childhood cancer.
While most of us are painfully aware of the epidemic of violence against women and girls (VAWG) in the UK, few know much — or anything at all — about the specific struggles faced by disabled people. The community, 16 million strong in the UK, equalling around 24% of the population, faces abuse and sexual violence at significantly higher rates than non-disabled people. I feel these analytical numbers deeply because, like so many other disabled people, it happened to me, too.
“Office for National Statistics data found 17.5% of disabled women had experienced domestic abuse in the year ending March 2020 — this is nearly three times higher compared to women without disabilities,” Abigail Ampofo, Interim Chief Executive Officer at Refuge, tells GLAMOUR. “They are also likely to experience abuse over a longer period because of the multiple barriers they face in accessing services and suffer more severe injuries as a result of the abuse. ”
The statistics on domestic abuse are stark for disabled men, too; they’re twice as likely to endure domestic abuse than their non-disabled peers. Disabled women also experience sexual violence at twice the rate of non-disabled women and are more likely to be victims of street harassment.
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The causes of these are myriad, as psychologist Lee Chambers tells GLAMOUR: “The likelihood of a higher dependence on partners or caregivers can provide opportunities for control and abuse, and a higher chance of reliance for mobility, everyday tasks, and finances can make leaving abusive situations more challenging. This is overlaid with a higher potential of social isolation or limited support network access, the vulnerability increases.”
While our new Labour government pledges benefit reform, disabled people who’ve struggled to raise awareness of the silent epidemic of violence against them wonder if a system overhaul will actually help or continue the Conservative campaign of demonisation against benefit claimants.
“You get reactions like, ‘You should be grateful someone’s with you’ […] It’s the same old attitude we’ve always dealt with; we should be grateful for scraps.”
“You get reactions like, ‘You should be grateful someone’s with you,’” Maisie, who left their relationship in 2018, tells GLAMOUR. “It’s the same old attitude we’ve always had to deal with; we should be grateful for scraps. I'm not grateful you gave me the crumbs on the table.” Our society’s engrained ableism can entrap disabled people in abusive relationships, leaving them stuck between the control of their partner and the ableist assumptions of society. Claire*, who is blind and has ADHD and bipolar left their abusive ex-husband in 2012, agrees: “It’s almost like you should be grateful for what you’ve got and not sabotage it, like look what good we’re doing for you, why do you want to screw it up?”
“The stigma surrounding disability benefits has an incredibly isolating impact,” explains clinical psychologist Daniel Glazer. “This toxic stigma, coupled with broader societal misconceptions about disabled individuals' needs and capabilities, cultivates environments where abuse can thrive unchecked. Devaluing disabled lives emboldens some abusers who evidently don't think a disabled victim's cries will be taken seriously.”
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Claire, 41, faced multi-layered stigma as a disabled, bisexual person in a relationship with a transgender man — domestic abuse within the LGBTQ+ community is still regularly ignored — and feared rejection from their Jewish community when preparing to leave their violent ex-husband. The mum of two says, “Growing up in the ‘80s and ’90s, we were told ‘be grateful’ because ‘you used to be in institutions’. Having that in your mind, thinking it could always be worse, you fear ostracisation, particularly from my queer and faith communities.”
One government support mechanism designed to help people can make them more vulnerable to abuse: means-tested benefits. While some disabled people can claim Personal Independence Payment (PIP), a non-means-tested benefit designed to cover the additional costs of disability, estimated to be £975 per month, it’s often insufficient. So, many also claim means-tested benefits, such as Universal Credit (UC), to support them. The DWP assesses your eligibility using the whole household’s income.
Disabled people who cohabit or marry a partner in the UK could lose access to means-tested benefits like Housing Benefit and free prescriptions if their combined income exceeds the threshold. For disabled people who can’t work, this leaves them totally reliant on PIP and romantic partners to fill the financial gap.
Essentially, the approach strips claimants of financial autonomy by assuming romantic partners will pick up the slack without question. That’s what happened to me back in 2019; my ex’s income far surpassed the threshold, but we didn’t share finances, so I lost out on hundreds of pounds per month. I later found myself unable to leave an increasingly toxic situation due to a lack of income. Many benefit claimants don’t know this could happen to them until it’s too late.
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“I was ignorant to the fact his wage would affect my benefits before we got married. My UC work coach didn't tell me that it would, and she knew I was getting married,” says Nicole*, who was with her ex for seven years. “When I phoned UC about it, I was met with a vile man who laughed at me while I was crying and said, ‘Well, you’re married now, so your husband can keep you’ and ‘You’re disabled, why do you need money?’”
After losing access to means-tested benefits, her ex’s resentment and abusive behaviour grew exponentially until she had to rely on the kindness of loved ones to survive. “He would buy games, films, clothes, whatever he wanted, and I’d be lucky to replace the clothes I had with holes in them. I had severe endometriosis, so I needed a lot of sanitary products, and I was often made to ask my mum or my friends to send me money to get them.”
The funnelling of all household benefits into one account also made it extremely difficult for Olive*, who has Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome (EDS) and ADHD, to leave her violent ex-partner and the father of three of her five children. “He wasn’t working and it was a joint account, but I had no access to it. One time, shortly before I tried to leave, he emptied the bank account, even though the child benefit was in my name, and the police said there was nothing they could do.”
The means-tested benefits system is ostensibly fair, ensuring households do not take more than their share. But it can make it harder for victims of abuse to escape, particularly if their partner is financially controlling. “Having no money to my name and being disabled meant the thought of leaving him wasn’t even an option; I was terrified, and it was keeping me trapped. I was made to feel useless and worthless, and I thought being with someone, no matter who, was better than being alone,” Nicole tells GLAMOUR.
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In a statement to GLAMOUR, the DWP says they have “no plans” to “amend the rules regarding the treatment of household income and capital in UC and Employment Support Allowance.” A DWP spokesperson added: “We would urge anyone experiencing any form of domestic abuse to reach out to the relevant authorities, and they can also speak to our specially-trained Jobcentre staff who can provide urgent support including, temporary accommodation, benefit advances and signposting to additional support.”
But claimants like Maisie, who had to use PIP payments to cover household bills instead of things like charging their wheelchair while in an abusive relationship, insist a system change could’ve saved them earlier: “If my money weren't means-tested and was just mine, I would have been able to get out of there faster.” Maisie lost means-tested benefits and free prescriptions again in their current relationship. The loss places monumental financial pressure on the couple, who ration hot showers and heating to get by. They can also no longer afford the therapy that helped Maisie “find my voice” after it “was crushed by cancer, disability, and the abuse.”
For some, the means-tested system necessitates living apart from their partner, which Claire has chosen to do to protect their income. “My current partner and I don’t live together, even though we have a 4-year-old, because we’d be way worse off financially. If he moved in, I’d lose around £850 a month in support.” It’s easy to see why so many disabled people get stuck in abusive situations, unable to find the funds to escape safely, and why others avoid co-habitating to protect their income.
I am often forced to buy clothing designed for for 5-year-olds. I'm 35.
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Policy Manager for disability equality charity Scope, David Southgate, tells GLAMOUR that welfare reform should better protect disabled claimants: “Eligibility criteria are restrictive and leave many just outside of entitlement even though they are still struggling with their costs. We want the government to listen to disabled people and fix the broken benefits system to ensure they can access sufficient support to cover their needs.”
Olive attempted to leave her ex with her five children, who have various disabilities, including EDS, ADHD, and autism, several times before leaving for good in 2016. But finding a forever home proved a nightmarish gauntlet.
Accessible housing, especially council-provided housing, is in short supply in the UK; she spent several years traipsing between accommodations before finding a forever home. On two occasions, the family had to move when administrative errors gave her ex information on their location, potentially allowing him to re-invade their lives. “I have got my forever home now. I’m sick of moving; I can’t physically keep moving; every time I do move, everything goes downhill, health-wise, for everyone, because the referrals and transfers aren’t done properly and take so long.”
When I saw Blake Lively telling young women to “wear your florals” and head to the cinema for a movie in which the entire plot revolves around domestic abuse, I was furious.
Refuge, which has long called for welfare reform to protect survivors, highlights the need for more accessible services. “Funding challenges are particularly acute for specialist ‘by and for’ services, which are six times less likely to receive statutory funding than generic specialist services,” Ampofo says. “This means that marginalised survivors, including those with disabilities, face additional barriers to accessing domestic abuse services than others.”
Survivors also believe training across health and social services must be improved to spot warning signs earlier. Olive’s ex-husband prevented her from attending medical appointments or insisted on sitting in to monitor her behaviour. Still, no one flagged it, even after she turned up to a GP appointment with bruises on her face. “I wasn’t allowed to go to medical appointments, even after a perforation following childbirth. To go to appointments, you had to be ‘good.’”
“He was always with me, which ought to be a red flag in itself. No health visitor asked, ‘Why is she never able to be on her own?’ Even if there isn’t a history of domestic violence, that should still raise a flag,” she tells GLAMOUR.
Beyond adequately funding refuge services, improving accessibility, and dispelling stigma, disabled survivors of domestic abuse just want more people to pay attention to our unspoken plights. Or to at least see our community mentioned or centred — just once, please — in VAWG prevention campaigns.
But we also want to remind anyone struggling to find that one chink of light amidst the crushing darkness that there is hope and help available. “You are worthy, and you can have a really successful life,” Olive tells GLAMOUR. “And your children can be happy; they will have trauma, but their lives, and yours, will be better than if you stay.”
For more information about emotional abuse and domestic abuse, you can call The Freephone National Domestic Abuse Helpline, run by Refuge on 0808 2000 247.
For more information about reporting and recovering from rape and sexual abuse, you can contact Rape Crisis on 0808 500 2222.
If you have been sexually assaulted, you can find your nearest Sexual Assault Referral Centre here. You can also find support at your local GP, voluntary organisations such as Rape Crisis, Women's Aid, and Victim Support, and you can report it to the police (if you choose) here.
We're living through a femicide – and no one wants to talk about it.
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