Domestic Abusers are Criminals, Not Troubled Lovers

Let’s be honest for a second: what does society advise when dealing with a psychopath, a thief, or a murderer? It screams “Avoid!” “Run!” “Call the police!” We’re told to stay away, report the danger, protect ourselves. We don’t give second chances to someone who robs a bank or someone caught harming another person with intent—so why, when the crimes happen inside a home and are wrapped in romantic packaging, does the narrative change? Why do so many tolerate abuse while saying “He’s not usually like this” or “She’s just going through something”? If it walks like a criminal and harms like a criminal... then maybe it's time we stop calling it love.

Domestic abusers aren’t misunderstood lovers—they are individuals engaging in acts that mirror criminal behaviour. Take beating, for example. On the street, if someone punches you, it’s assault. There’s no debate there. But behind closed doors, it’s somehow reduced to a “relationship problem.” The mindset that drives an abuser to hit, push, or harm their partner is steeped in domination—not emotion. They do it to instill fear, to silence resistance, to maintain control. Just like a thug uses violence to intimidate, domestic abusers weaponize physical aggression to assert power. And no, it’s not a momentary slip—it’s a pattern.

Then there’s the silent treatment—the art of neglect. Society often overlooks this, maybe because it doesn’t leave visible bruises. But psychological torment doesn’t need fists; it just needs silence. Abusers use isolation to punish. It's a method of control—starving their partner of emotional connection, validation, even basic interaction—much like a cult leader cutting off dissenters to make them dependent. It’s not a passive response; it’s a calculated punishment.

Emotional manipulation is another favourite weapon. Gaslighting, guilt trips, twisted logic—these aren’t quirky relationship quirks. They’re psychological abuse tactics that con artists and interrogators would admire. The abuser rewrites reality, making victims question their memories, their sanity, their worth. They make you feel responsible for the very pain they inflicted. It’s no different than a fraudster convincing someone that their stolen money was a necessary loss.

And let's talk about accountability—or the absolute lack of it. Ever met a thief who immediately admits to stealing? A murderer who confesses on cue? No. They deny, distract, blame others. They only come close to truth when faced with irrefutable evidence—and even then, they may spin it as self-defense or necessity. Domestic abusers function the same way. They rarely own their actions. Instead, they offer lines like “You made me do it” or “I wouldn’t have hit you if you hadn’t provoked me.” These aren’t apologies—they're deflections straight out of a criminal’s handbook. Unless it's a case of survival or self-defense, most perpetrators resist accountability to maintain their power.

So here's the ironic twist: we’re taught to avoid criminals in public—steer clear, protect ourselves, seek justice. But when the same behaviour appears within the confines of love, suddenly victims are expected to forgive, fix, and endure. Really? If we wouldn’t invite a psychopath into our living room, why are we expected to sleep beside one just because they know our middle name?

People with sane minds protect themselves. They lock their doors at night, avoid dark alleys, and report danger. That same instinct must apply within relationships. Abuse isn’t complex—it’s criminal. And no amount of affection, history, or emotional confusion can justify staying with someone who uses cruelty to assert control.

If love requires you to lose your dignity, silence your truth, or endure pain—it’s not love. It’s captivity. And it’s time we call it what it is: a crime with a pretty disguise.