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 It urges us to move past outdated stereotypes and recognise that abuse does not always leave visible wounds—but it leaves lasting emotional and psychological scars.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 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.
I used to leave flowers in the window, like my own secret signal to the world. It felt comforting, like a silent message saying I was okay.
But on days when I forgot, I got scared. What if someone noticed the missing flowers and came looking? What would happen if she answered the door? She would find out what I was doing.
I still put flowers in my window now. Now that I am safe. I just want to let people know.
I wanted to apply for a job, nothing fancy, just working at the local shop. But he wouldn’t let me. He kept insisting that I should stay at home. All I wanted was to do something, to meet people, but he shut down all those possibilities.
It felt like he was holding me back from living my life, from being independent.
He hid my tablets, so I had to ask for them. Sometimes, I even had to beg. He knew how important they were for me.
Without them, I’d be in pain. It was like he had control over me. It made me feel powerless.
He would put sleeping powder in my drink. I’d wake up confused, not knowing what happened or where I was. Sometimes, I’d also feel pain, you know, down there. Maybe it was a good thing in a way, because I wouldn’t remember what he did.
But it still left me feeling violated and scared.
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.
I began receiving cards in the mail from my friends, filled with well wishes for a speedy recovery. I was so confused, I wondered why they thought I was sick. Turns out he had told all my friends that I was sick and couldn’t see them.
It was like he was isolating me from the people who cared about me, manipulating them into believing his lies.
He always come with me to shops, never help, just follow me. He make sure I don’t stop to talk to anyone.
After shop, he watch me struggle with bags, tell me hurry up for TV.
It feel like I can’t do anything without him watching.
He took control of my banking, wanting to know every penny I had and where it went. I couldn’t have my own money. He watched everything. He’d even take cash from my account, moving it to his if he thought I had too much.
I dreamed of using that money to break free, but there was no hiding it from him. Every time I thought I had enough, he’d take it away.
He boiled a pan of water on the hob. He kept telling me that I had to stop upsetting him. He said it over and over again, but wouldn’t say what I was doing.
Then he called the dog over and held it near the water. He kept telling me to stop upsetting him.
I couldn’t. I didn’t even know what I had done wrong.
I kinda liked doing the dishes. It was like my secret hideout, away from her watching me all the time. I scrubbed away at those plates. The dirtier they were the better. I could take my hate and anger out on them.
Every morning there was a cup of tea waiting for me in the kitchen. Always in the same broken cup. I hated that cup, I wanted to smash it, but that would just get me in trouble. She would also leave the teabag and spoon for me to clean up.
She did it to remind me that I was a broken mess and that nobody would want me.
The thought of it still makes me feel sad and lonely.
I would run and sit by the river. One day, I’ll be free, one way or another. Somewhere where nobody can hurt me.
Life is just too hard here. I don’t want to be here anymore.
I don’t want to be anywhere anymore.
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.
He’d go days without speaking to me, always with the radio blaring. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he’d just crank up the volume, drowning out my voice.
He never said why, just completely ignored me like I didn’t even exist.