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 It urges us to move past outdated stereotypes and recognise that abuse does not always leave visible wounds—but it leaves lasting emotional and psychological scars.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 wasn’t allowed on the bed. Every night, I’d try to sneak onto it, hoping for a moment of comfort, but she’d always shove me off.
I made it as comfortable as I could, with a cushion and a blanket, but it still felt like I was being treated like an animal. Lying there, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being less than human, undeserving of even a basic place to sleep.
He knew when I got paid on Fridays. The money would go straight into my bank account, but he’d make me go to the cashpoint to withdraw it.
I worked my butt off all week for that cash, but I never got to keep any of it. It felt like all my hard work was for nothing, like he was just using me so he could go to the pub.
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’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.
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.
The bastard made a sign out of cardboard, labeling me with the word ‘SLUT’, and forced me to parade down the street carrying it. I was so mad, humiliated. All because I spoke to another man? I couldn’t believe how cruel he could be.
After that, I was too ashamed to even leave the house. How dare he treat me like that? It was like he was trying to strip away everything. I won’t let him get away with it.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 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.
At first, it was just a bit of harmless fun, just a game we played.
But he started leaving for longer periods. He would go to the pub. I was scared. I dreaded his return and what he might do. I didn’t know what state he would be in.
Sometimes he would bring other men home. To use me for fun or to pay off his debts. I would lay there. I couldn’t run away.
I wanted it to stop. I wanted to die.
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.
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.