We’ve all heard someone say it: “I just want to know you’re safe.”

It sounds caring. Protective, even. But sometimes, those words are the beginning of something far more dangerous.

What if the most dangerous part of an abusive relationship isn’t the violence we see, but the control we don’t?

So many of us are conditioned to think of abuse only in terms of bruises or raised voices. But what happens when the harm is quiet? When it arrives dressed as concern or disguised as love? There’s a form of abuse that begins subtly, controlling who we talk to, what we wear, how we spend our time, and grows steadily more dangerous. It’s called coercive control, and it’s time we all began talking about it.

The term was coined by sociologist Dr. Evan Stark, who described coercive control as a pattern of behaviors used to dominate another person, usually a partner, through isolation, manipulation, surveillance, and fear. It’s not one moment or incident. It’s a campaign of domination, unfolding slowly but deliberately, leaving many of us unaware it’s even happening…until it’s far too late.

Recognizing the pattern before the violence starts

Dr. Stark called coercive control a “liberty crime,” because it strips away a person’s freedom, autonomy, and safety without necessarily leaving a mark. It may begin with a partner asking for our phone password or questioning why we need to see a certain friend. Maybe they say they “just worry” or that they “care too much.” We’re told we’re loved, and yet we’re made to feel guilty for maintaining a life outside the relationship.

Over time, these comments grow into rules. Rules become expectations. And expectations, when unmet, can provoke threats, intimidation, or punishment.

In her research on domestic homicides, renowned criminologist Professor Jane Monckton-Smith identified coercive control as the first stage in a chilling eight-stage timeline that ends in murder. She found that in nearly every case of intimate partner homicide she studied, there was a history of controlling, coercive behavior. It wasn’t “just emotional abuse.” It was the starting point. The warning sign waving in plain sight.

The Femicide Census found that 92% of women killed by their partners in the UK had previously experienced coercive control. That statistic alone should shake us awake. This isn’t a side issue. It’s the foundation upon which the most dangerous outcomes are built.

How it feels to live in a controlled relationship

We’ve heard the words before “I just want to protect you,” “I don’t like how your friends talk to you,” or “Let me handle the money so you don’t have to worry.” These can sound like love, but they often become excuses for control.

In working with survivors, I’ve listened to stories that follow eerily similar patterns. One woman told me, “He never hit me, but he’d punch the wall right next to my head.” Another said, “He smashed my phone when I texted a friend back.” Still another recounted, “He only told me once exactly how he’d kill me and hide the body. Just once. But I never forgot it.”

These are not isolated stories. They’re different expressions of the same kind of power.

When we resist, we may face threats or silent withdrawal. When we comply, the control tightens. Many victims are pressured to leave jobs, sever friendships, or abandon family connections. They stop accessing their bank accounts. They stop making decisions. Eventually, they may stop seeing themselves as separate from the person controlling them. That’s when the danger becomes hardest to escape.

Why we miss the signs—and what that costs us

Coercive control can be incredibly difficult to identify, especially from the outside. Friends may not see any physical injuries. Employers may chalk up exhaustion or anxiety to stress. Even police, unless trained to recognise non-physical forms of abuse, may overlook or downplay reports that don’t include visible harm.

We, too, often doubt ourselves. Without bruises, it can feel impossible to explain. The shame, fear, and confusion that come with invisible abuse can silence even the strongest among us.

Several reports have recently revealed that many law enforcement officers still lack the training to identify coercive control unless physical violence is involved. This leaves a devastating gap in protection. And it’s one reason survivors so often feel dismissed or disbelieved.

Coercive control was criminalized in the UK in 2015, and other countries, including Ireland, Australia, and parts of the U.S. have followed suit. But laws alone aren’t enough. Prosecutions remain rare. Far too many women only receive protection after harm has already occurred.

What we can do—together

To stop violence against women, we must stop seeing coercive control as “not quite abuse” or “not serious enough.” We must treat it as the dangerous red flag it is, because by the time it becomes physical, the window for safe intervention is often closing. That means ensuring law enforcement officers are trained to recognise early-stage abuse. It means having courts that take non-physical harm seriously. It means educating young people about what healthy, respectful relationships truly look like. It means building communities that listen, believe, and support those who speak up, long before they’re in danger. And it means standing beside women who feel something is wrong, long before they can prove it.

After three decades of researching violence, speaking with survivors, and studying predator behavior, I’ve come to one truth: coercive control is physical violence in slow motion. And once it escalates, the damage is deep, and escape becomes dangerous.

Let’s name it. Let’s share what we’ve learned. Let’s act. Let’s save lives.

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