Every year, 500,000 Dutch people experience domestic violence, with 84% being women. Among women aged 20-60, 21% have faced abuse from a (ex-)partner. Contrary to stereotypes, it affects all socioeconomic backgrounds—not just the uneducated or inarticulate. Shame and guilt often silence victims. Here, Sandra (37, sociologist) shares her firsthand account with Santé.
I kept my ordeal secret from friends and family for years. As an independent woman, I never imagined I'd tolerate mistreatment. Paul seemed ideal at first: quiet, gentle, humorous, and a budding journalist. With my sociology background, I was flattered by his interest. Our early months were blissful—dates, museums, vacations. Occasional bursts of anger over minor issues surprised me, but I dismissed them as his nature.
After the first real incident, my instincts screamed to leave. I can't recall the exact trigger, but Paul perceived my words as criticism. He cursed, called me a 'bitch,' and kicked my shin in rage. Stunned and humiliated—raised in a debate-driven home—I was unprepared for such violence.
The emotional scars hurt more than the physical. Paul apologized profusely, vowing change, but outbursts persisted over trivialities, like forgetting crème fraîche while cooking or a holiday budgeting error. He'd yell, curse, push, and belittle me, making me feel utterly worthless.
I tiptoed around him, yearning for children in hopes it might improve things. Post-Nina's birth, tensions exploded. Paul micromanaged, criticizing my every move. During a diaper dispute, he shoved me from bed, screamed in my ear, and punched me. Bruises became routine; I dissociated to survive.
Only after leaving, nearly three years later, did I recognize my perpetual dread—especially for Nina's safety. Job loss confined me home while Paul freelanced there, isolating me further. I confided in no one, fearing judgment or his reaction, and rationalized my role in his rages.
The climax unfolded at his parents' idyllic Languedoc farm. A clash with his mother prompted my decision to flee with Nina. As I packed, Paul stormed in, assaulting me. His parents joined, pinning me down amid Nina's cries. Dragged downstairs by my hair, I stayed calm to survive, then called my parents for rescue.
The final hours were surreal—his parents dismissed it all. Back home, I changed locks, reported to police with a friend. Legal battles dragged: asset division, custody. Paul harassed relentlessly, leveraging connections for a mere fine.
Anger followed relief, deepened by no apologies—especially for Nina witnessing it. Flashbacks plagued me, but therapy helped. My hot-tempered upbringing normalized intimidation; I fixed issues privately. Love for Nina empowered escape. Now, four years on, I've relocated, found a loving partner, and watch Nina thrive. Self-blame fades; I've built the life I deserve.
This story originally appeared in Santé by Stephanie Jansen; images via Getty Images.
Victims in the Netherlands have access to vital support via the Victim Guide website, listing organizations and tips for victims, families, and caregivers. Click here† for easy access and shareable resources.
