The violence experienced by Mariam, a young woman from the southern town of Aitaroun who asked to remain anonymous, was not only physical in the obvious sense. It affected her body, her self-image, and her freedom to make decisions. Her story began during her final year of high school, when she was eighteen years old. She entered into an engagement out of love, believing he was her life partner and the man of her dreams.
But the engagement, which lasted nearly five years, eventually became, in her words, “the worst period of my life.” At the time, she could neither fully understand nor articulate what she was experiencing. The relationship gradually closed in around her through repeated insults, subtle threats, and constant persuasion that she “belonged to him,” and that “society would never accept her” if she tried to leave.
These statements were not passing opinions; they were tools used to tighten control over her. He turned their physical relationship into a means of psychological blackmail and intimidation, repeatedly telling her that she was “no longer a virgin,” and that no one would ever accept or marry her if she left him. He treated her as though she had become his property, as though her body itself had become a reason to silence her and keep her trapped within the engagement.
Studies on gender-based violence show that abuse within relationships is not limited to physical assault, but also includes sexual coercion, psychological abuse, and controlling behaviors. The World Health Organization defines intimate partner violence as behavior within an intimate relationship that causes physical, sexual, or psychological harm, including sexual coercion, emotional abuse, and controlling conduct.
Violence within relationships is not limited to physical abuse,
but also includes sexual coercion, psychological abuse, and controlling behaviors.
In Mariam’s case, control operated through an issue that is socially highly sensitive: the physical relationship and the social consequences attached to it, regardless of whether she was engaged or not. The problem was not the physical relationship itself, but the way it was weaponized against her. It was transformed into a permanent accusation, a means of silencing her, and a tool for stripping away her right to make her own decisions.
Mariam continues: “He used to tell me that I was ruined, that no one would ever accept me after him. He would raise his voice at me, and I would sit in the corner covering my ears.” This description aligns with the concept of coercive control, which refers to a repeated pattern of behavior intended to dominate the victim through isolation, threats, humiliation, and limiting their ability to act independently. Women’s Aid describes coercive control as “invisible restraints” that create fear across every aspect of a survivor’s life, restricting both freedom and agency.
The abuser’s behavior was not limited to words alone. He would also cut off communication with her for long periods, sometimes lasting months whenever he became angry. Over time, she gradually lost her ability to express herself, to the point where she no longer knew what she wanted. She describes that period as feeling like “a person living in another world that no one could see.”
Mariam says: “The threats turned into a constant internal fear. I was terrified to tell my brother or my family what I was going through because I feared being judged. The phrases he repeated planted the idea in my head that society would never forgive me, and that if I left the relationship, I would be condemned instead of him.”
Data published by United Nations agencies regarding “virginity testing” has pointed out that the social expectation for girls and women to remain “virgins” is rooted in stereotypes that restrict women’s sexual autonomy both within and outside marriage, and that these perceptions are harmful to women and girls.
Over time, these practices evolved into a form of internal surveillance. She began forcing herself into silence and restricting her own behavior in order to avoid provoking any reaction.
Mariam explains how she stopped seeing her friends, avoided visiting relatives, and withdrew from all forms of social interaction. She also lost confidence in her appearance and developed a constant sense of shame about being seen by others, eventually avoiding gatherings altogether.
When the Body Becomes a Tool of Possession
At the core of this experience, the body becomes a site of domination. The abuser does not merely insult her or shout at her; he redefines her in her own eyes: “You are no longer the same,” “No one will ever accept you,” “You belong to me.” These statements do not only inflict temporary pain. They reshape the victim’s entire perception of herself. She begins thinking through the language imposed upon her and gradually forgets that her worth is not determined by a man, a relationship, or a harsh social judgment.
What makes this type of violence even more dangerous is that it draws its power from society itself. If there were not such a harsh stigma attached to women’s bodies, virginity, and marriageability, these threats would not carry such force. The abuser does not threaten alone; he exploits a preexisting social fear and transforms it into a personal prison.
Research on violence linked to concepts of “honor” indicates that this form of abuse often functions as a mechanism of social control, enforcing conformity to social norms and punishing deviation from them.
For this reason, this experience cannot be viewed merely as a harmful relationship between two individuals. It is also a reflection of a broader social structure that provides abusers with their tools: fear of scandal, fear of losing marriage prospects, and fear that the victim herself will be judged rather than protected.
The Journey of Recovery and the Meaning of Independence
The turning point came during her master’s studies. Mariam says: “Once I became somewhat distant from the environment of the relationship, I started thinking about my situation differently.” During that period, some of her friends noticed her psychological condition and offered support. After five years of silence, she finally decided to tell her brother everything she had been experiencing.
Her brother’s reaction was decisive. He did not blame her, nor did he see her the way she feared society would. Instead, he reminded her that her value was not defined by what had happened inside an abusive relationship. He told her that anyone who could not love and respect her as she was did not deserve her. At that moment, she began to understand that the life imposed upon her was not destiny, and that the fear keeping her trapped in the relationship had itself been part of the control exerted over her. From that point on, she was able to move from silence to the decision to leave.
This support was not a minor detail. In experiences of abuse and coercive control, the first relationship that believes the victim instead of condemning her can become the dividing line between continued captivity and the beginning of freedom. Support here does not simply mean sympathy; it means redefining what happened. She was not “damaged,” she did not “belong” to anyone, and staying with him was not an unavoidable social destiny.
In experiences of abuse and coercive control, the first relationship that believes the victim instead of condemning her can become the dividing line between continued captivity and the beginning of freedom.
After the separation, she underwent psychological therapy sessions that lasted around twelve appointments. She describes this experience as transformative because it helped her confront herself, accept herself, and understand what she had gone through. She says: “The sessions helped me see things clearly, and I regained my independence.”
Research also supports the connection between psychological abuse, coercive control, and profound psychological effects. Studies indicate that coercive control and emotional abuse are strongly associated with symptoms of depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder.
Recovery was neither quick nor linear. It was a gradual process through which she redefined her relationship with herself. Slowly, she began caring for herself again, reclaiming her social presence, and pursuing her academic and professional path with greater confidence. She continued her postgraduate studies, traveled, and explored new experiences. She emphasizes that the support she received from her family and friends was essential during this period. For her, independence did not simply mean leaving an abusive relationship. It meant rebuilding her life according to her own choices, free from threats and imposed expectations. Today, she sees those years as a painful experience, but also as a turning point in her life. She no longer views marriage as an escape or proof of her worth. Instead, she seeks a relationship built on respect and mutual support. She says that she now “values herself more and is reclaiming everything she lost during those years.”
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