Invisible Violence, Invisible Chains

I think it’s safe to say that humans are slightly obsessed with true crime. There are thousands of books, documentaries, and podcasts all about it. We talk a lot about crime - about what’s illegal, what’s punishable, and what the justice system deems worthy of intervention. Murder? Illegal. Assault? Illegal. Theft? Illegal. But what about the kind of violence that doesn’t leave bruises? The kind that seeps into a person’s mind and dismantles their sense of self?

Emotional abuse, coercive control, and stalking are some of the most insidious crimes a person can endure, yet they are the least understood, the least prosecuted, and, arguably, the most ignored by the legal system. Victims are often told there’s “nothing that can be done” until it escalates to something more severe. But what happens when “more severe” means irreversible damage - or worse, death?

Netflix’s I Just Killed My Dad is a heartbreaking example of how the “why” behind a crime is just as important as the crime itself. On the surface, it seemed like a simple case: a boy killed his father. Open and shut, right? Except, as the docuseries unfolded, it became painfully clear that this was not a cold-blooded murder. It was an act of desperation born from years of abuse, control, and isolation. The boy wasn’t a sociopath - he was a product of extreme psychological torment.

And that’s the problem with how we treat emotional abuse. Society - and, more frustratingly, the legal system - tends to dismiss it because it isn’t as visible as physical violence. But the impact is no less devastating.

According to Statistics Canada, individuals who experience childhood abuse (whether physical, emotional, or sexual) are more than twice as likely to experience or perpetrate violence as adults. The trauma doesn’t just disappear. It shapes how they respond to the world, and in some cases, it leads to tragic outcomes like the one in I Just Killed My Dad. 

We don’t just fail victims of emotional abuse - we fail those terrorized by stalkers and manipulators as well. Lover, Stalker, Killer (another recent Netflix documentary) is a horrifying example of how the law is laughably slow to respond to threats that don’t yet meet the threshold of “serious crime”. A woman terrorized a man for years, escalating her behavior in ways that should have warranted intervention long before things reached a breaking point.

Here’s the ugly truth: Stalking is often treated as a nuisance rather than a legitimate danger. Yet, statistics show that 76% of women murdered by an intimate partner were stalked before their deaths. Let that sink in. The warning signs were there - clear, documented patterns of escalation - and still, the law did nothing until it was too late.

Countries like the UK have begun criminalizing coercive control (a form of psychological abuse involving extreme manipulation and restriction of a person’s autonomy), but in many places, including much of North America, this kind of abuse still exists in a legal gray area. You can destroy someone’s mental health, isolate them from their family, and make them feel like a prisoner in their own life - all without technically committing a crime.

Are all abusers beyond help? Not necessarily. While some perpetrators of emotional abuse, stalking, and coercive control have deep-seated control issues and narcissistic tendencies that make them resistant to change, others are simply repeating patterns they learned from their own traumatic upbringings.

Studies on Batterer Intervention Programs (BIPs) - which attempt to rehabilitate those who abuse their partners - show mixed results, with some programs having modest success in reducing reoffending. While these programs don’t work for everyone, they do highlight an important point: Some people don’t want to be abusive. They just don’t know any other way to interact in relationships.

This doesn’t mean victims should have to bear the burden of “fixing” their abusers. But it does mean that if we’re serious about preventing emotional and psychological violence, we need interventions - not just punishments.

We’re not entirely powerless in this fight. There are ways to push for change, both on a systemic and personal level.

We can advocate for stronger laws - push for legislation that criminalizes coercive control, as seen in the UK. We can demand stricter stalking laws that allow for interventions before violence occurs. And, support survivors who take legal action, even when the justice system tries to dismiss their cases.

We must educate ourselves and others. Emotional abuse isn’t always obvious. We need to learn the warning signs, and teach others to recognize them too. If someone dismisses a survivor’s story, challenge them. Spread awareness about how devastating this kind of abuse can be.

We need to support victims - without judgment. If someone confides in you about emotional abuse, don’t ask, “Why don’t you just leave?” Instead, ask, “How can I help?” Believe survivors. Too often, their experiences are downplayed or outright ignored.

We need to address the root causes. We need to support mental health initiatives that help people process trauma in healthy ways. Encourage open conversations about emotional intelligence, healthy communication, relationships, and boundaries - especially in young people. Push for more accessible intervention programs for those at risk of becoming abusers before they do irreparable harm.

The change starts with us.

The law may be slow, but that doesn’t mean we have to be. If we keep treating emotional and psychological abuse as “less than” physical violence, nothing will change. Victims will continue to suffer in silence, and the cycle of abuse will repeat itself.

We need to recognize that harm is harm - whether it’s a fist to the face or wounds that break a person from the inside out. And until the law reflects that truth, it’s up to us to advocate, educate, and protect each other. 

Because no one should have to wait until it’s “bad enough” to be taken seriously.

Ⓒ March 2025. Beki Lantos. All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author.