Natasha O’Brien’s story shows how women are trapped inside a system ‘built on misogyny’
Oh God, not again — that was the first thing that came into my head when I saw the headlines about the Crotty case last week. I had just finished work and was at home, absentmindedly scrolling through my phone.
Suddenly there it was, in black and white, another man spared any punishment for beating a woman unconscious. How many times do women bravely come forward about abuse and either they are not believed, or their abusers go unpunished?
The second thing that came into my head was the sound of the key in the door. To be clear, there was nobody at the door. The sound I heard was an echo, a memory, brought on by seeing yet another abuser escape any form of justice for his crimes.
For 13 years, the sound of the key in the door meant danger. It meant my abusive ex-husband was home and I was at his mercy, frantically going through a checklist of jobs he expected me to have done, knowing if I missed something I would face the worst outcome imaginable.
Seeing what happened to Natasha O’Brien brought back all of that to me. I am free of my abuser now and I feel like myself once more. I am strong and capable, living a life full of purpose and joy. But when the danger of male violence returns, to me or any other person, and when that violence is accepted by the people in power, the terror comes back.
It is very real, that terror, and for good reason. I can see it in other women within minutes. It could be a question asked casually enough about how much a night out will be, it could be a bruise and a joke about tripping on the baby gate.
Being able to spot it so fast is a blessing and a curse, if I’m honest, because while I now have the experience and the tools to help these other women, it’s extremely painful to understand the depth of this problem. Male violence is a massive problem in Ireland, the events of last week alone must convince everyone of that truth.
On Thursday, Cathal Crotty walked free after being convicted of assaulting Natasha O’Brien. Just two days before that, Women’s Aid released their figures from 2023, showing domestic abuse disclosures were higher than ever before.
We must face up to the fact that Cathal Crotty is one of many violent men who are on the streets and in our homes. From over 40,000 points of contact with women who managed the time and courage to contact them, the Women’s Aid report builds a terrible picture.
“Women reported assaults with weapons, constant surveillance, and monitoring, relentless put downs and humiliations, the taking and sharing of intimate images online, complete control over all family finances, sexual assault, rape and being threatened with theirs or their children’s lives.
“The impacts on these women were chilling and ranged from exhaustion, isolation, and hopelessness to serious injury, suffering miscarriages, poverty, feeling a loss of identity and suicide ideation, hypervigilance, and homelessness.”
It was devastating for me, and for most of us, to read this report and then days later watch the Irish justice system crush another survivor and reward her abuser. That showed me that after speaking up, after revealing the worst things ever done to you, even after the rare occurrence of a conviction, your abuser can still get away with it.
I feel this misogyny deeply, and it runs right through the justice system. When I was still trapped with my abuser, deciding whether or not to speak up became a real battle within my own mind. It was horrible. My fear was my children being taken from me, because my abuser insisted nobody would believe me and I’d be seen as an unfit mother.
Of course, I had to think about the impact on the kids, and then how it would touch everyone around me, my family and friends and neighbours. That was hard enough, but the courts system made it more so; even going into the courts to get a safety order was extremely daunting. I had to repeat my story to so many strangers along the way; administrators, gardai, judges.
Lots of individuals working within the systems did their best, and some were incredible and very tuned into the ins and outs of domestic violence, but they’re trapped inside a system that is built on misogyny.
The burden of proof is all on the women, or in some cases men, who are getting abused. Getting time off work because of domestic violence, applying for social welfare and housing, getting my divorce — every aspect of escaping my abuser was made more difficult by systemic failures to value and protect women.
Each time I had to prove I was being abused re-traumatised me in ways I still feel today.
Two years ago, the Department of Justice announced the government’s strategy: Zero Tolerance of domestic, sexual and gender-based violence in our communities. The Government assured women that the Irish State realised “we have allowed gender-based violence and abuse, and the attitudes and assumptions which underpin it, inflict misery on too many for too long.”
We know that they know. We also know that the violence has only gotten worse, and the Irish State has let more abusers walk free. I have a teenage daughter, what does that tell her? Equally, I have a son, and I think about the impact of the Crotty case on him.
I worry about my daughter and I worry about my son. They are both getting a loud message from the Irish justice system that violence against women is normal.
It’s brilliant to see the public come out in support of Natasha O’Brien. There are some lights that flicker in the dark, and it is possible to get your life back. I had fantastic court support from Women’s Aid, and I’ve also put in years of counselling.
I’m safe now, but last week brought me right back to the danger of unchecked male violence. I heard the key in the door again. A lot of us did. I’m thinking about all of the women who are doing the terrible maths in their minds to figure out if it’s worth speaking up. It takes so much guts to do so, and we have to wonder, for what?
I’m thinking too about the women waiting for their cases to go to court. Even if we do come forward, even if everyone believes us and acknowledges exactly what our abuser did to us, he might still get away with it. As the rate of male violence escalates, either at the hands of strangers or — much more likely — someone known to us, more and more women will be forced to seek safety and justice. Where will we find it?
- The woman speaking in this story wishes to remain anonymous.
– If you are affected by any of the issues raised in this article, please click here for a list of support services.
