unseen echoes
domestic abuse
Challenging Our Perception
The Unseen Echoes project challenges how we perceive domestic abuse. Too often, our understanding is shaped by what we can physically see—bruises, broken bones, and visible scars. But the reality is far more complex. Many survivors bear no external wounds, yet they live with the deep and lasting impact of psychological, emotional, financial, and coercive control.
The numbers tell a sobering story. In the UK alone, 1.7 million women and 699,000 men experienced domestic abuse in the past year. While public awareness has grown, much of the abuse remains hidden. 95% of survivors report experiencing coercive control—manipulation tactics designed to dominate and isolate them, from restricting access to money to controlling social interactions. Unlike physical violence, coercive control is often difficult to prove, making it harder for victims to seek justice.
Despite its prevalence, domestic abuse remains one of the most underreported crimes. Only 1 in 5 victims ever report their abuse to the police. Many fear repercussions, feel trapped financially, or worry they won’t be believed. For those experiencing psychological or economic abuse, the barriers to seeking help can be even greater, as these forms of abuse are less understood and harder to recognise.
Unseen Echoes forces us to look beyond the surface. Through powerful photography and personal testimonies, the project reveals the hidden realities of abuse and its long-term effects. It urges us to move past outdated stereotypes and recognise that abuse does not always leave visible wounds—but it leaves lasting emotional and psychological scars.
This project is not just about showcasing survivors’ experiences. It’s about shifting perspectives, challenging misconceptions, and encouraging society to truly listen. If we fail to acknowledge the invisible impact of abuse, we risk leaving survivors without the recognition, support, and justice they deserve.
Unseen Echoes is a collaborative photography and storytelling project designed to shed light on the unseen realities of domestic abuse. It brings together survivors, charities, and organisations to share untold stories and challenge the way abuse is perceived.
At its core, the project gives a voice to those who have been silenced. Each participant’s story is captured through both powerful imagery and deeply personal testimonies, allowing audiences to connect with the emotional reality of abuse. By presenting a diverse range of experiences, Unseen Echoes highlights the many forms abuse can take—whether it’s psychological manipulation, financial control, emotional degradation, or the long-term trauma that lingers even after an abusive relationship has ended.
The project’s exhibition format ensures that these stories reach as many people as possible. Whether displayed in galleries, community spaces, or online platforms, the images and narratives serve as a powerful reminder that domestic abuse is not always visible, but it is always impactful. By removing the barriers of statistics and legal definitions, Unseen Echoes brings the reality of abuse into sharp focus, making it impossible to ignore.
More than just a display of personal experiences, Unseen Echoes is a call to action. It encourages conversation, fosters empathy, and provides a platform for survivors to reclaim their stories. It also serves as an educational tool for organisations, policymakers, and the wider public, reinforcing the need for better awareness, support systems, and prevention strategies.
Ultimately, Unseen Echoes is about transformation—of perspectives, of policies, and of lives. It reminds us that the echoes of abuse do not fade when the violence stops. They linger in memories, in fears, in relationships, and in the way survivors navigate the world. By acknowledging these echoes, we take a step towards breaking the silence, challenging stigma, and building a future where no form of abuse goes unseen.
about the project
I remember having this page in my notebook where I scribbled ‘NOT REAL’ over and over again. He kept insisting I’d done things I hadn’t, trying to make me believe I was a bad person. I scribbled so hard, my pen went through the page.
It was like all the shouting inside me found its way out onto that paper.
He would make me drink, sometimes beer, other times something stronger, depending on his mood. I learned that even if I didn’t drink, he still got what he wanted.
Sometimes, it felt easier to just go along with it and numb myself, to be out of it rather than feel what he was doing.
He was a control freak. He made schedules for everything, even when I could eat or sleep. I was too scared to do anything differently.
I didn’t have the freedom to choose for myself.
I had this book where I wrote down everything she did, like my own secret diary. But she found it, and she burned it all. All my words, all my proof, gone.
I felt so small, like I couldn’t do anything to stop her or prove what she did.
She always appeared wherever I went, and I couldn’t figure out how. Later, I found out she’d put tracking software on my phone.
I felt trapped, like I couldn’t escape no matter where I went. It was like she was watching me all the time.
I always bought a card for my daughter, even though I couldn’t send it. Not knowing where she was, I kept it hidden away. He wouldn’t let me stay in touch with her after my ex took her.
But one day, I’ll find out where she is. Then, I’ll give her all those cards, just to show her I never stopped thinking about her.
He always threaten to tell immigration about me and send me back, even though I here legally. Just the idea of being reported would mess up my job and seeing my kids. He know this, but he don’t care. He just want to hurt me, to make me feel scared and powerless.
It feel like he got all the power, and I can’t do nothing.
She had this diary, but it wasn’t for remembering fun stuff or happy times. Nope, it was all about the times I messed up. Every little mistake or thing I did wrong, she’d write it down like it was some kind of crime.
It felt like she never missed a chance to point out my mistakes, but when it came to the good stuff? Forget about it. It’s like it never even happened.
It made me feel like I couldn’t do anything right, always walking on eggshells around her.
She would leave money on the table. It made me feel cheap that she would never give it to me. Said it was for the shopping. I had to make it stretch, get everything on her list, no excuses.
Sometimes, though, it wasn’t enough, and I’d have to beg or steal to get everything. Couldn’t go back without it all, it made her mad.
I tried to use it once to make a break for it, but she tracked me down. There was no escape.
We would go places, and she’d tell me I wasn’t there, that I imagined it. One time, we went to the beach, and I had a photo of the sunset.
She said she took it to show her friend because I wasn’t there. But I knew I was. Did I really make it up? It made me doubt my own memories, like I didn’t know what was real.
I called it my escape fund, tucked away at the back of my wardrobe, hidden behind my clothes. He never bothered to look there.
Any spare change I had went straight into my secret stash.
One day, I’d save up enough to break free, to find my own place away from him.
I was at work one day when she sent me a photo of a clown. It was not to be funny, but she said it looked like me.
She was always saying bad things about how I dressed. I couldn’t forget it. I kept thinking, maybe other people think the same. It made me feel bad, like I was not good enough.
She’d snatch my phone every chance she got, always poking around in it, reading my messages, and checking who I’d called. It felt like I had no space to breathe, no privacy at all.
My phone wasn’t just a device anymore; it was a leash, and she held the other end tight. Freedom? Forget about it.
That photo album meant everything to me. He cut me off from everyone, even my own kids. And that album, it was my only escape, my link to happier times. But now, even that feels tainted, like I’m losing everything that mattered to me.
It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.
I was out chilling with my mates when my phone rang. It was her, and she sounded really messed up, saying she’d hurt herself if I didn’t come back.
When I got back, I found her in the bathroom, knives lying there like some horror movie. It freaked me out big time.
After that, I felt like I had to stay close, like I was responsible for her. I couldn’t even hang out with my friends without worrying about what might happen when I wasn’t there.