Abstract
Disabled women experience disproportionately high rates of gender-based violence (GBV), with prevalence in Newfoundland and Labrador exceeding that of other Canadian provinces. Despite growing attention to this issue, the voices of disabled women, particularly in Atlantic Canada, remain largely absent from research. This study explores their lived experiences to address this critical gap. Thirteen in-depth, semi-structured interviews were conducted with disabled women (ages 25–50) in Newfoundland and Labrador who had experienced GBV. Participants self-identified with a range of disabilities, including developmental, physical, neurodivergence, chronic illness, and mental health conditions. Recruitment involved provincial and local outreach, collaboration with community organizations, and snowball sampling. Data were analyzed using Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis. Findings reveal how disability itself is weaponized in GBV, with disabled women often targeted because of their perceived vulnerability. Many participants described how male entitlement and societal norms reinforced cycles of harm, leaving them trapped in patterns of abuse. Violence reshaped women’s lives, exacerbating their disabilities and deepening their isolation, while institutional betrayal and community silence further normalized their mistreatment. For some, survival meant negotiating safety through compromise, as autonomy became a bargaining tool in a system that offered little protection. This study underscores the urgent need for intersectional, trauma-informed responses that recognize the compounded impact of GBV on disabled women. Disrupting these cycles requires challenging the social conditions that sustain harm and increasing support systems that acknowledge both the unique vulnerabilities and resilience of disabled survivors.
Keywords
Women with disabilities face unique and systemic barriers that significantly shape their experiences of gender-based violence (GBV) (McCulloch et al., 2021). These barriers extend beyond individual experiences of violence, as structural and institutional factors further perpetuate risk and limit options for support. For example, healthcare providers may overlook or dismiss signs of abuse, leading to missed opportunities for intervention (Aguillard et al., 2022). Inaccessible services, such as shelters and crisis centers that lack assistive technology or restrict access for service animals and caregivers, further constrain women’s abilities to escape harm (Alhusen et al., 2020). These systemic failures both increase disabled women’s exposure to violence and reduce their ability to seek help.
Intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989) is particularly relevant for understanding GBV. Emerging from Black feminist scholarship (Davis, 1981; Hooks, 1981; Lorde, 1984), intersectionality identifies the role of multiple and overlapping systems of oppression and privilege in people’s lives (Crenshaw, 1989). It situates individual experiences within broader societal contexts, specifically examining how interacting inequalities rooted in systems of oppression, such as racism, ableism, patriarchy, and sexuality, compound one another (Hankivsky, 2012). For disabled women with intersecting marginalized identities, these systems often intersect in ways that amplify harm and limit access to justice. For instance, 2SLGBTQI+ disabled women report higher rates of physical and sexual violence compared to their cisgender, heterosexual counterparts (Cotter and Savage, 2019), while disabled women from racialized communities often face additional discrimination from law enforcement and social services (Rugoho and Maphosa, 2015). These intersecting identities create heightened barriers to support and protection.
GBV refers to violence perpetrated against individuals based on their gender, gender identity, gender expression, or perceived gender, encompassing physical, emotional, and psychological abuse, such as sexual assault, intimate partner violence (IPV), neglect, discrimination, and harassment (Women and Gender Equality Canada, 2022). Beyond its immediate harm, GBV constitutes a severe human rights violation with far-reaching physical, psychological, and economic consequences for survivors, their families, and society (Women and Gender Equality Canada, 2022). GBV is a pervasive social issue that disproportionately impacts women, with disabled women facing an even greater risk of GBV compared to their non-disabled counterparts, with research indicating that they are more likely to experience physical, sexual, and emotional violence, often perpetrated by caregivers, healthcare providers, and intimate partners (Statistics Canada, 2020). Their experiences of abuse are often disability-specific, with abusive partners exploiting their reliance on others for care, withholding medication or assistive devices, restricting mobility, and engaging in financial exploitation (Ruiz-Pérez et al., 2018). Many disabled women also face barriers to reporting abuse, including fear of retaliation, societal infantilization, and dismissal by service providers (Lund, 2020). In some cases, abusive individuals are also caregivers, further entrenching control over women’s lives and increasing their dependency (Hague et al., 2011).
Despite growing recognition of these issues, existing GBV research often overlooks the intersection of gender and disability, resulting in an incomplete picture of disabled women’s experiences (Dowse et al., 2016). Quantitative data have documented higher rates of GBV among disabled women, but qualitative studies that center their voices remain limited. A recent qualitative meta-synthesis found that disabled women’s experiences are largely invisible in both GBV and disability-related scholarship, reinforcing the need for studies that directly incorporate their perspectives (Goulden et al., 2023). Many disabled women remain disconnected from the GBV sector due to inaccessibility, highlighting the urgent need to address service barriers and to inform policy and practice with survivor-centered knowledge (Robinson et al., 2021).
In this study, disability is understood as a social identity rather than a fixed medical category (Rocco, 2005), encompassing a broad range of experiences including developmental and physical disabilities, neurodivergence, chronic illness, and chronic pain. As disability language continues to evolve without a universal consensus, we use both person-first (e.g., woman with a disability) and identity-first (e.g., disabled woman) language to reflect varying preferences within disability communities (APA, 2015). Additionally, “women” includes all self-identified women, including cisgender, transgender, gender-diverse individuals (Statistics Canada, 2022).
The present study
Despite growing awareness of GBV, the unique experiences of disabled women remain largely absent from research and policy discussions in Canada. In Newfoundland and Labrador, GBV rates exceed national averages, with over 37% of women in the province reporting experiences of physical or sexual assault at four times the national average (Office for the Status of Women, 2017). The lack of attention from GBV and disability researchers has contributed to the continued invisibility of disabled women’s victimization, leaving critical gaps in understanding and intervention. This study seeks to address this gap by exploring the lived experiences of disabled women who have encountered GBV in Newfoundland and Labrador. In doing so, it considers how geographic isolation, limited infrastructure, and community norms may reinforce vulnerability and restrict access to social and mental health support for disabled women.
Materials and methods
This qualitative study adopted Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA) (Smith, 2004; Smith et al., 1999) to explore the lived experiences of disabled women who had encountered GBV in Newfoundland and Labrador. IPA is well-suited for examining how individuals make sense of trauma, identity, and systemic barriers, particularly in studies informed by hermeneutic phenomenology. In this approach, the researcher is positioned as an active interpreter of participants’ meaning-making processes (Smith, 2018). This aligns with phenomenological approaches in social work that seek to understand the deeper meanings of shared lived experiences (Padgett, 2012).
Research team and reflexivity
Reflexivity in qualitative research involves a continuous process of self-awareness, critical reflection, and evaluation of one’s role in the research (Ide and Beddoe, 2024). Reflexivity was central to the research process as this study adopted reflexive practices throughout the methodological design, data collection, and analysis, attending to the researchers’ power dynamics, assumptions, and role boundaries. The team included three social workers with extensive practice experience supporting survivors of GBV, two of whom are now academics (AG, SB) and one a PhD student (VL). Additionally, the team included a psychology student with experience in bereavement, chronic pain, and phenomenology (JP) and a PhD student in folklore with expertise in phenomenological research (IL). The first and second authors (AG, JP) conducted all interviews, while data analysis was a collaborative effort among all team members. Several team members self-identify as disabled or living with disabilities, offering an embodied understanding of accessibility barriers and systemic exclusion. A person with lived experience provided feedback on the interview guide and recruitment strategies to promote a more inclusive and grounded research process.
Ethics review
The study protocol received ethics approval from the Interdisciplinary Committee on Ethics in Human Research (ICEHR) at Memorial University of Newfoundland and Labrador. Given the sensitive nature of the topic and the potential for emotional distress, the study followed ethical guidelines for researching experiences of GBV. This included clearly outlined informed consent, the right to withdraw at any time without consequence, and measures to ensure participants’ privacy and data security. Participants were invited to choose a pseudonym at the end of the interview; if they declined, they were informed that the interviewer would assign one to them. In those cases, commonly used first names were selected to help preserve participant anonymity.
Recruitment
Individuals were eligible to participate if they self-identified as women or gender diverse individuals who were disabled or living with a disability and were at least 25 years old. Participants must have previously experienced GBV in Newfoundland and Labrador, including but not limited to physical or sexual violence, emotional abuse, stalking, and other controlling behaviors. To minimize potential distress and promote participant well-being, eligibility was limited to individuals whose experiences of violence had occurred at least one year before the study, a criterion commonly used in similar research (McCarthy et al., 2017). Additionally, as the data were collected in English, participants were required to have a basic level of communicative proficiency in the English language. Participants were recruited through social media outreach, collaboration with community organizations, and snowball sampling. A recruitment flyer was shared on social media platforms such as Instagram and Facebook. Additionally, community organizations were invited to assist with recruitment by circulating the study flyer through email and printed posters. To extend recruitment efforts snowball sampling was used, wherein participants who completed the study were invited to refer others who met the eligibility criteria.
Participants
Characteristics of study participants.
aPseudonyms were assigned by the researcher.
Data collection
Survivors of GBV actively engage in decision-making regarding their participation in research, exercising self-efficacy in assessing their readiness to engage with sensitive topics (Lowik et al., 2024). Recognizing this, this study applied a trauma-informed approach by offering flexible interview structures, allowing participants to skip any question, take breaks, or withdraw without consequence (Nonomura et al., 2020). The recruitment flyer and demographic questionnaire included an invitation for participants to identify any access needs or accommodation requests they may have. In response, accommodations such as enabling live captions during the interview and providing a list of guiding topics in advance were offered to participants who requested them. Additional trauma-informed practices included brief mood checks during the interview, the option to debrief afterward, and the provision of a list of local support resources via email (Nonomura et al., 2020). These measures were designed to support participant safety, emotional well-being, and autonomy throughout the research process. All study materials, including the online questionnaire and recruitment documents, were designed to be accessible for participants using screen readers or with low vision. The Qualtrics questionnaire was tested for screen reader compatibility, and materials were formatted with high-contrast fonts and clear, simple layouts to enhance usability. While IPA (Smith et al., 1999) often values deep engagement with participant narratives, survivors frequently shape interviews around reflections on recovery and resilience rather than solely recounting painful experiences (Rowntree, 2010). To honor this, the study ensured that participation remained survivor-led by prioritizing participants’ well-being throughout the interview process.
Data collection occurred between May and August 2024 and consisted of two primary components: an online demographic questionnaire and an in-depth, semi-structured interview. Participants received a $50 e-gift card as compensation for their time. Interviews were conducted privately, and no additional individuals (e.g., caregivers or support persons) were present during the interviews. Participants were not asked to review their transcripts after the interview, as the research team sought to minimize participant burden, particularly given the emotional and time-related demands associated with discussing sensitive topics. Although transcript review was not offered, participants were invited to follow up with the research team if they had any questions, needed clarification, or had additional reflections after the interview.
Demographic questionnaire
Before the interview, participants completed a demographic questionnaire administered online using Qualtrics (Qualtrics, Provo, UT). The questionnaire collected information about participants’ age, gender, cultural background, self-identified disability, employment and education status, living situation, and any agency support they had received. It also included questions such as: How much does your disability impact your day-to-day living? Are you currently in a romantic relationship with a partner or partners? and What types of GBV have you experienced? This information was used to help contextualize the interview data and support purposive sampling. The questionnaire was only available in digital format to ensure consistency across responses.
Individual interviews
The interview guide was developed through a literature review, expert consultation, and a qualitative meta-synthesis conducted by the research team (Goulden et al., 2023). This meta-synthesis helped identify key areas, such as institutional betrayal (Smith and Freyd, 2014), systemic ableism, and barriers to disclosure, which informed the structure and focus of the guide. Feedback from a disabled woman with lived experience further refined the wording and scope of the questions. Open-ended questions invited participants to describe their experiences in their own words. Interviews began with general definitions of GBV (e.g., Could you tell me what you think gender-based violence is?) and included a phenomenological grand tour question (e.g., Would you mind telling me more about your experience of GBV?). Follow-up prompts explored help-seeking, coping, parenting, and disability-related dynamics. Some questions were adapted from a previously designed interview protocol used by McCarthy et al. (2017) with permission from the original authors.
Each participant completed a virtual interview via Microsoft Teams, lasting approximately 60 to 90 minutes. Although in-person interviews were offered, all participants chose the virtual option. Interviewers took brief field notes afterward to document reflections and key observations. Participants were reminded at the start of the interview of their rights to skip questions, pause, or withdraw at any time. All interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed verbatim by the interviewer. No participants withdrew from the study after the interview began.
Data analysis
All interview transcripts were analyzed following the principles of IPA (Smith et al., 1999), which facilitated an in-depth exploration of how participants made sense of their experiences with GBV. The analysis process was conducted collaboratively with all team members to promote a thorough and reflective approach. The transcripts were reviewed multiple times to develop familiarity with the data, with initial reflections and notes recorded throughout this process. Preliminary themes were identified by highlighting key statements and annotating meaningful patterns within the transcripts. Related themes were then grouped into broader categories, forming a structured framework representing participants’ lived experiences. Through an iterative process, the research team refined these categories into superordinate themes, which captured overarching patterns, and subordinate themes, capturing more nuanced aspects of those broader themes.
The research team held multiple meetings to review identified themes, refine categorizations, and engage in deeper discussions about data interpretations. Each transcript was analyzed individually before cross-case comparisons were conducted, enabling the identification of both shared and unique experiences. Themes were not generated solely based on their frequency but were prioritized based on their depth and significance within participants’ narratives. Through this iterative process, the study aimed to center participants’ voices and contribute to a richer understanding of the intersections between disability, gender, and violence. Unlike other qualitative approaches that seek thematic saturation, IPA (Smith et al., 1999) does not aim for saturation, as each participant’s lived experience is uniquely meaningful and cannot be fully exhausted. Instead, the analysis prioritized depth, examining each transcript in detail before moving to the next.
Findings
Overarching superordinate and sub-ordinate themes.
The weaponization of disability in GBV
Participants described how disability was used as a means of control by abusive partners. Structural barriers, physical vulnerability, and social isolation were often weaponized to exert power and restrict autonomy.
Marked as vulnerable: The targeting of disabled women in GBV
Participants described how their disabilities increased their vulnerability to GBV. Abusive partners exploited physical impairments, social isolation, and systemic barriers, strategically using these factors to exert control and prevent escape. Some survivors shared that their abusive partners viewed them as easy targets, more controllable, less likely to resist, and easier to manipulate due to internalized ableism or dependency on others. One participant who works with other survivors reflected on this escalation: “I see it in my work. I see people who are wheelchair-bound are getting much worse abused, and they can’t flee” (Sallygal). Survivors described how disabilities were weaponized, not just physically, but also psychologically and financially. Sallygal, who has poor vision, recalled how sensory impairments were used to increase her disorientation and vulnerability: “I couldn’t see, and I didn’t have all my senses, which would cause me to be confused and get even more angry, and it just exacerbated the situation.”
Many women felt deliberately targeted because of their perceived weakness, social isolation, or financial dependency. Some abusive partners sought out disabled women for these specific vulnerabilities. Lila, who had a rare genetic condition resulting in physical vulnerabilities, explained, “I felt that this individual was preying upon my vulnerabilities. He had preyed upon my inability to be physically normal.” Similarly, Clara noted the predatory targeting of disabled women: “We’re more of a target and because we’re more of a target, our abusers are never held accountable.”
Others recounted being used for emotional energy, money, and medication. Financial abuse was common, with some trapped in debt: “The money that he owed me at that point was well over $10,000. It became a position of extortion” (Lila). Being both disabled and a woman intensified their vulnerability. Isla, who lived with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and mental health conditions, shared: “I didn’t feel like there was anybody like me because not only had I experienced violence, not only was I female, but I also had a disability.” For some, early experiences of social exclusion and marginalization made them more susceptible to abuse. Abusive partners reinforced isolation by exploiting the societal devaluation of disabled women. One survivor described how internalized ableism was used to maintain control: You're gonna face days that you feel as though there is absolutely no one else in the world but you, and you are going to be told all of the things that are negative about you because that's what someone who wants to bring you down is going to do. (Lila)
The emotional and physical toll of abuse was even greater for disabled survivors, whose daily energy was already limited. Deidre mentioned spoon theory, which is a framework that positions disability as an energy source that requires regular renewal (Miserandino, 2003) and is a metaphor commonly used in disability communities. Deidre used spoon theory to describe the impact of toxic relationships: “A woman who doesn’t have disabilities might spend one spoon on toxic masculinity interactions. For me, that could be ten spoons…”
Despite these experiences, survivors rejected the idea that their disabilities made them less valuable or deserving of love. Over time, many recognized how their abusive partners exploited societal narratives of devaluation: “I would say that like you’re selling yourself for pennies when you’re worth gold, that just because you have a disability does not mean your inherent value is any less than somebody else” (Daisy). This sentiment captures the resistance to internalized ableism and the reclaiming of self-worth central to many survivors’ healing journeys.
Abusing the body and mind: How disability becomes a tool for control
Participants described disability-specific abuse, where partners exploited impairments for coercion, control, and harm. Abusive partners often tailored violence to the survivor’s condition, exploiting pre-existing conditions or medical vulnerabilities to maximize harm. This intentional targeting meant that injuries could be severe while remaining more challenging to report or prove: “He choked me twice when I had a blood clot disorder…and physically assaulted me…pushed me, shoved me, grabbed me by the arm where the PICC line was, twice” (Isabell). Similarly, Lila, who had a genetic bone disorder, recalled an incident in which her partner deliberately injured her in a way that capitalized on her condition: He took my hand and he smashed it very hard against the gear shift in the vehicle, and I felt a crunch, and knowing how fragile my bones were I said, 'Well, I'm pretty sure there's something fractured in my hand.'
These targeted attacks were difficult to report, as injuries were dismissed as part of a condition or lacked proof of intent.
Another tactic was controlling access to medication. Survivors who needed prescriptions for chronic pain, mental health, or medical conditions found that their partners used medication as leverage. Some abusive partners stole, hid, or withheld medication to maintain control, as described by Rose, who needed medication to manage her chronic pain: “So I’ve had medication taken from me, hidden from me, withheld from me… ‘I’ll give you back your medication if you give me 20 dollarsʼ.” In addition to restricting access, abusive partners shamed and tormented women for taking medication, reinforcing stigma and dependency: “He would torment me about when I could have my medication. He would make me feel really bad about the fact that I was taking my medication” (Rose).
By weaponizing disability, abusive partners increase survivors’ dependency, social isolation, and physical entrapment. Some participants described their abusive partners as deliberately creating obstacles to escape by controlling medication, fostering dependence, or manipulating institutions to discredit them. These tactics made leaving an abusive relationship significantly more difficult. While disability-specific abuse is often overlooked, participants emphasized that extends broader patterns of coercion, control, and harm. By tailoring abuse to a survivor’s specific vulnerabilities, perpetrators reinforced dependence, intensified isolation, and deepened harm.
The inescapable cost: How violence reshapes disabled survivors’ lives
Participants described how ongoing exposure to violence took a significant psychological toll, often manifesting as anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress. These impacts were compounded by the need to continuously “bargain” for safety, strategizing and compromising within gendered and ableist systems shaped by cultural norms and expectations around disability.
Bargaining for safety: The cost of compromise
Participants described engaging in a form of internal bargaining to cope with abuse. This often involved minimizing the severity of their situation, invalidating their suffering, or convincing themselves that the abuse was not “bad enough” to take action. Maintaining safety often required compromising dignity, independence, or access to care, particularly when systems failed to protect them. These compromises reflected negotiation within unequal power structures. Kandiyoti’s (1988) concept of bargaining with patriarchy is useful here, as it captures how women adopt resistant and adaptive strategies under patriarchal constraints. For participants, these negotiations were further shaped by disability, isolation, and community expectations. Many survivors justified staying in abusive relationships by telling themselves it could be worse. Molly, who experienced multiple forms of violence, reflected: “Well, it could be worse.” Others took responsibility for the abuse rather than recognizing it as harm inflicted upon them. Alice described how this shaped her perception of her relationship: I've spent years making excuses for him and thinking it was my fault. So, I didn't see it as abuse. That was a very hard thing for me to accept myself. To say that I was a victim of abuse, that took me years.
The reluctance to self-identify as a victim was common, particularly among those who believed abuse only “counted” if it was physical: “I’m lucky because he doesn’t hit me” (Alice). This focus led some to dismiss the psychological and emotional violence they endured, reinforcing their decision to stay.
A key aspect of bargaining involved hoping for change. Many survivors repeatedly tried to “fix” the relationship before realizing a change was unlikely: “Nothing was gonna make it better…it was not a fixable situation…but I kept trying to fix it” (Alice). For some, dependency on abusive partners reinforced these internal negotiations, especially when partners provided needed care or financial support: You are so dependent on the care of somebody else. And that's when you will tolerate it…you don't talk to me that nice, but he doesn't cheat. This is where we are. We're bargaining. (Molly)
Beyond internal bargaining, many made active compromises to avoid escalating violence. Participants described appeasing their abusive partner, prioritizing survival and the safety of their children over their own well-being. Rose shared how she took on the role of the “peacekeeper” in her household: “I went into survival mode…how do I keep my kids safe? And how do I keep myself alive?...I just became the peacekeeper.” The bargaining and compromise described by participants reveal the complex survival strategies women use to navigate abuse. Whether through minimizing harm, hoping for change, rationalizing dependency, or keeping the peace, these narratives illustrate how survivors prioritize safety while reinforcing cycles of violence.
The lasting toll: How violence exacerbates disability
Participants described how violence exacerbated their disabilities, worsening both physical symptoms and overall well-being. Chronic stress, emotional distress, and abuse led to heightened health complications, prolonged recovery from medical procedures, and increased social isolation. For some, stress triggered flare-ups of chronic conditions. Rose, who has Crohn’s disease, reflected: “It [violence] definitely made my health worse…if you’re very stressed out, your Crohn’s will act up…the stress that I was under with him around certainly made me sicker.” Another participant with Crohn’s described how living with a chronic illness is unpredictable: “With the diagnosis of Crohn’s comes a whole facet of different things that can happen” (Grace). For others, the abuse worsened pain-related conditions or delayed healing after medical procedures.
Beyond physical health, participants emphasized the cumulative psychological toll of violence, often manifesting as anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Isla shared how trauma and disability intersected: “Looking back, that was my disability, and that was my disability being…aggravated by PTSD.” Many also described becoming socially withdrawn, which compounded feelings of hopelessness: “I was…very depressed, very withdrawn from my friends and family. Very hopeless.” (Sallygal). Similarly, Lila described the long-term impact on her ability to trust: “I had to learn how to trust people all over again.” Participants’ experiences highlight how violence against disabled women is not an isolated event but a long-term health and social issue. Abuse worsens disability, deepens trauma responses, and limits survivors’ access to care and support.
Entrenched harm: How social norms and cycles of violence sustain GBV
Participants reflected on how patriarchal culture, community norms, and the geographic isolation of rural communities contributed to the normalization of violence. They described how GBV was often witnessed, experienced, and learned within families, reproducing harmful dynamics across generations.
Privileged to harm: Male entitlement and gendered control
Underpinned by patriarchy, male privilege is deeply ingrained and often protected by institutional and cultural structures. Participants described abusive partners operating within a system that normalized male dominance, granting them power and social legitimacy while positioning women as subordinate. These power imbalances, reinforced by social expectations, legal institutions, and financial control, made it difficult for the women to be believed or access support. Rose recounted how her aggressor weaponized stereotypes about disability and mental health to undermine her credibility: When I would call the police…he would say, 'Oh, she's on medication, too. You can't trust what she's saying.' So, police would automatically assume I was a drug addict…I was never taken seriously.
The “perfect victim” expectation further silenced survivors. Those who did not conform to stereotypical notions of femininity, innocence, or helplessness often had their experiences dismissed. Alice, who navigated anxiety, depression, and ADHD, described how her abusive partner exploited societal biases about mental health, making her fear that seeking help would lead to losing her children: “I didn’t want anything on record saying that, you know, I had any mental health issues ‘cause he had me convinced that that could be used against me and that he would take my kids away.” This fear of institutional punishment illustrates how patriarchal and ableist systems work together to reinforce cycles of violence.
Financial control was another means of dominance. Some survivors were expected to take on financial responsibility while their partners controlled household income. This imbalance placed the survivor’s needs as secondary to the abusive partner’s, making it harder to gain economic independence and leave the relationship. Participants also described violence beyond financial control, including psychological and coercive tactics that were often seen as “normal” or justified. Isla, who identified as experiencing physical, psychological, and verbal violence, reflected on how her abusive partner framed control as a gendered expectation: It was…a relationship where the male wanted to exercise dominance and control and abuse, and saw me as the weaker sex, and he continued to instill fear based on the fact that he was a male and I was a female.
Even without physical violence, the threat of harm was used as a control tactic. Alice recalled how her abusive partner’s body language intimidated her, reinforcing his control: He would always clench his fists like this, and he would be doing this breathing thing. I remember saying to him, 'Why are you doing that? Like, that scares me,' and he would say, 'Well, you know I would never hit you.' And I'm like, 'I don't know that.'
For some, abuse extended to physical and emotional surveillance. One method of exerting control was denying women privacy. Daisy described how her abusive partner violated her autonomy by physically intruding on her personal space: “He wouldn’t give me any privacy. If I went to the washroom and I was in there too long, he would pick the locks and come in.” This violation of personal boundaries not only stripped survivors of their autonomy but reinforced their powerlessness within the relationship. These experiences capture how abusive partners weaponized fear, finances, and institutional biases to maintain control, whether through outright violence or more coercion.
A culture of silence: How community norms and isolation perpetuate GBV
Participants described how community norms, alcohol culture, and rural isolation reinforced rigid gender roles while silencing discussions of gender diversity and disability. Rooted in patriarchal and heteronormative values, this socialization process normalized GBV, making it difficult to recognize, challenge, or escape cycles of harm. Alcohol use, particularly among men, was a key factor that often shielded abusive partners from accountability. Billy explained how silence and secrecy sustain these patterns: “Newfoundland has a lot of alcohol culture…a secretive kind of like, you know, look the other way or we don’t talk about things.” The geographic isolation of Newfoundland and Labrador exacerbated survivors’ vulnerability. For disabled women, this often meant having no access to support. Deidre reflected on the isolation and lack of gender-affirming and disability-specific resources in rural communities: I was living in [name removed], which is a population of…350. The road closes in the wintertime because of the snow. There has been times we had to get milk flown in because babies were starving…Can you imagine being in [name removed] with no…mental health help?...There's nobody following up on these people who need help.
Beyond geography, patriarchal and religious values reinforced gendered violence. These deeply embedded cultural norms silenced discussions of gender diversity and disability rights, making nonconformity dangerous. As Deidre noted: “The church and patriarchy and toxic masculinity is still the basis of operation in these small towns, but people never talk about it.” For some, these barriers were compounded by accessibility issues and institutional neglect. Many described growing up in communities where disability services were nonexistent or available only sporadically, making it even harder to seek help when experiencing violence: “You don’t look like you’re sick, so um, that was a big barrier for me about accessing services as a woman that was disabled…I don’t look like I’m disabled to people” (Isabell).
Many survivors described how community norms pressured them to suppress parts of their identity to conform. As Molly reflected: “You’re totally living out of character, right?…I wasn’t getting to do my cultural things. It was very discriminated against.” Raised in environments where male authority and violence were unquestioned, survivors struggled to unlearn these norms. For disabled women, this pressure to conform was compounded by ableist assumptions that framed them as dependent or undeserving of agency.
“Monkey see, monkey do”: The cumulative and cyclical nature of violence
Participants described how GBV is learned, normalized, and perpetuated across generations. Many identified the family as the starting point for witnessing, experiencing, and ultimately reproducing violence. For disabled women, these cycles were further complicated by dependency on caregivers or institutions. Reliance on others for care, financial stability, or mobility often made it harder for participants to recognize abuse or envision leaving. One participant reflected on how violence within the family, even at a young age, reinforced both gendered and ableist dynamics: “My son from the age that he was three became very abusive with me. By the time he was three and a half, he was marking me and putting bruises on me himself” (Isabell). This experience captures how patterns of violence can be reproduced within families, shaping survivors’ early understanding of power, gender, and control.
Many survivors shared how violence in their families set the stage for later abuse: “So this is the problem, right? These traumas continue, then continue and continue, and there’s nothing you can do about it” (Molly). These cycles were not only psychological but also structural, with familial expectations, societal norms, and a lack of intervention sustaining harm. Survivors frequently described trauma, violence, and gendered power dynamics as cyclical, making it difficult to break free.
Early exposure to violence shaped long-term perceptions of relationships, defining what survivors believed was acceptable treatment. Clara, a survivor of multiple forms of abuse since childhood, recalled an incident at age six when a man lured her into the stairwell of her apartment building under the pretense of rubbing her feet with coins: How does that experience as a six-year-old affect you, and what you're supposed to expect from men and from society and what the rules are when she becomes a woman and is older?…Growing up, my father was an alcoholic and not physically abusive, but definitely verbally, mentally, emotionally…and that kind of set me up for unhealthy expectations and relationships.
Strict gender roles also shaped participants’ understandings of GBV, reinforcing male dominance and female subordination. Survivors recounted how traditional gender norms, learned from birth, dictated relationship expectations and discouraged deviation from harmful patterns: “Socialize girls or boys, which tends to lead to more domestic or more human risk of domestic in the future because there are those strict rules that were socialized since birth that don’t allow diversity” (Molly).
For disabled survivors, this socialization included an added layer of vulnerability. They were taught not only to accept gendered violence but also to tolerate the devaluation of their disabled identity. Many internalized the belief that they were burdens, making them less likely to seek support: “For a lot of people, it’s like, monkey see, monkey do. It’s the way they were raised, and they saw this violence happen in the generation before them, or they’ve seen it in people that they’re incredibly close to” (Polly). This transmission of violence was not only directly observed but also culturally reinforced. Many survivors described how family members actively excused and minimized GBV, discouraging them from seeking help or resisting abuse. Some internalized shame and responsibility for their experiences, particularly when family members dismissed their suffering. Sallygal described the painful impact of family invalidation: My family was supportive, but they were hesitant…They minimized his behavior, which was really tough for me to hear considering I was the one experiencing the abuse and they weren't…What I was hearing was, 'We don't care that you're being abused…At least you're not alone.' And that was really degrading for me.
While many participants expressed a sense of inevitability about the cycle of violence, others articulated a strong desire to disrupt generational patterns. They spoke about the need for change, autonomy, and relationships based on equality and shared responsibility: “We need to break that cycle because there’s a lot of people out there who believe that they are the know-it-all of the relationship when it needs to be a 50:50 and it’s not that” (Lila). However, breaking the cycle often required significant sacrifice, including cutting ties with family members who upheld violent norms. Some survivors described how escaping family violence led them into even more dangerous relationships: A cut off from family, which made this asshole look like a dream come true that now I'm not alone…I wound up sticking my head directly into the lion's mouth because this guy is far worse than Dad. This guy will hurt me bad, right?…I turn 50 this year, but I've had to work at this now the last ten years to get to this point. (Clara)
For disabled women, structural barriers reinforced cycles of harm. Some noted that disability services were either inaccessible or not designed to support GBV survivors, leaving them dependent on abusive partners for shelter, medical care, or financial survival. Without support that acknowledges both gender-based and disability-related oppression, breaking free from these intergenerational cycles remains an even greater challenge.
Discussion
This study highlights the systemic and pervasive nature of GBV against disabled women, shaped by intersecting forces of ableism, patriarchy, and institutional neglect. Three superordinate themes capture how disability is weaponized in abusive relationships, how violence fundamentally reshapes disabled survivors’ lives, and how male dominance is reinforced through systemic excusal of violence and intergenerational cycles of harm. These findings underscore that GBV against disabled women is not only interpersonal but also embedded in cultural, social, and legal structures that enable harm. Survivors’ narratives challenge the idea of GBV as isolated incidents, revealing a pattern of cumulative and cyclical abuse that is reinforced by systemic failures. While these findings align with the broader literature on GBV, they also raise critical questions about the unique vulnerabilities disabled women face, particularly the role of caregiver dependence, disability-specific abuse, and barriers to seeking support. Alternative explanations could suggest that these vulnerabilities stem from broader social inequality rather than disability itself; however, our findings emphasize that ableism plays a distinct and compounding role in exacerbating and prolonging GBV experiences.
This study further demonstrates that disabled women experience unique forms of violence, such as the withholding of medication or the use of disabilities as a means of control, which service providers must be equipped to recognize and respond to. Despite increasing recognition of the diverse experiences of survivors, services often adopt a one-size-fits-all model that overlooks the intersecting oppressions disabled women experience (Verloo, 2006). This exclusionary approach means that services primarily meet the needs of the most privileged survivors, while disabled women’s specific experiences and intersecting identities remain unrecognized and unaddressed (McCarthy et al., 2017). These findings reinforce the urgent need for an intersectional approach that acknowledges how disability, gender, and systemic oppression shape survivors’ experiences of violence.
Additionally, the findings highlight how abuse profoundly impacts women’s health. Violence not only worsens pre-existing disability symptoms but also contributes to new health complications. Research has long established a link between abusive relationships and deteriorating health, with impacts of abuse manifesting in chronic pain, anxiety, depression, and PTSD (Freeborn and Curry, 2009; Hague et al., 2011). For disabled women, these compounding effects deepen their vulnerability, further limiting their access to support and increasing their dependence on caregivers who may also be perpetrators of harm.
Perhaps most unexpectedly, our study captured the complex role of bargaining in survivors’ experiences. As participants described the ways they negotiated harm, often placating abusive partners or staying in unsafe situations to maintain housing, custody, or support, their narratives reflected what Kandiyoti (1988) termed ‘patriarchal bargains,’ strategic adaptations within restrictive gendered power structures. These bargains shaped not only conscious decision-making but also the internalized beliefs about responsibility, endurance, and deservingness. For disabled women in this study, dependency on a partner, on a caregiver, or on inaccessible systems intensified these compromises. Such bargains reflect both survival strategies and the socialization of gendered subjectivity, made more complex in this context by the intersections of disability, isolation, and systemic neglect. The act of bargaining complicates dominant understandings of help-seeking behaviors and underscores the necessity of survivor-centered interventions that recognize the nuanced ways in which disabled women navigate violence.
Lastly, the findings suggest that GBV against disabled women is reinforced by structural inequities, highlighting systemic failures in prevention and response. These failures are further compounded by regional and cultural factors. Because women’s experiences of violence and social support are shaped by geographical, cultural, and social forces, violence is often contextualized by the communities and regional landscapes in which women live (Corbett et al., 2025). In this study, participants described how violence became normalized within isolated communities, where alcohol culture, stigma, and a lack of accessible, gender-affirming, and disability-responsive services deepened cycles of abuse and limited help-seeking options.
Implications for social work practice
A key recommendation for social work practice includes expanding service models to recognize the unique experiences of disabled women. Given the prevalence of GBV, social workers must ensure they not only understand the distinct forms of violence experienced by disabled women but also understand the intersectional links between ableism, patriarchy, and other forms of oppression women experience. As recommended by Kulkarni (2019), social workers can ensure they are providing trauma-informed, intersectional services that center individualized support, shared power, and systemic advocacy. More recently, scholars have pushed for expanding trauma-informed care to trauma- and violence-informed care (TVIC), which social workers can develop expertise in to explicitly recognize the roles of structural violence, such as ableism and patriarchy, in shaping survivors’ experiences (Wathen and Varcoe, 2023). Implementing TVIC principles is a crucial step that social workers can take to ensure services not only respond to trauma but also address systemic inequities.
Moreover, this research highlighted the important role of social workers in counteracting the silence experienced by disabled women. When disabled women’s experiences of violence are met with silence by service providers, their invisibility is reinforced, leaving few avenues for intervention (Sallinen and Kukkurainen, 2015). Social workers must identify how this lack of recognition can create barriers to disclosure and help-seeking (Hasan et al., 2014) and how silence may have impacted survivors across different systems or stages of life. In turn, social workers must acknowledge how cultural and systemic dismissal perpetuates harm while engaging in targeted efforts to disrupt these cycles, to play a role in reducing the heightened risk faced by disabled women.
Limitations and future directions
This study’s sample size aligns with IPA (Smith et al., 1999) methodology, allowing for a nuanced, in-depth exploration of disabled women’s experiences of GBV. While the findings reflect rich and varied perspectives, they are not intended to represent the full range of experiences among disabled women in Newfoundland and Labrador. The sample included participants with diverse sexual orientations, a range of disabilities, and various forms of GBV. However, racial diversity was more limited, reflecting the demographic composition of the region. As such, future research should further explore the experiences of racially marginalized disabled women to better understand how racial oppression intersects with ableism and patriarchy to shape GBV. Additionally, the findings suggest that regional and cultural factors, including community norms, geographic isolation, and fear of gossip influence survivors’ access to support. Future studies could investigate how rurality, mobility constraints, and limited service availability affect help-seeking and long-term recovery for disabled women. Although grounded in a specific provincial context, these findings align with qualitative research internationally. The structural forces of ableism, patriarchy, and institutional betrayal (Smith and Freyd, 2014) that perpetuate GBV against disabled women are not unique to Newfoundland and Labrador, suggesting that insights generated here may have meaningful transferability across diverse settings.
Conclusion
This study examines how GBV is enacted, sustained, and excused in the lives of disabled women, exposing its systemic and intersectional dimensions. Rather than isolated incidents, survivors described GBV as cumulative and cyclical, shaped by ableism, caregiver dependence, and structural barriers to support. Disability itself was often weaponized in abusive relationships, while institutional neglect and social norms reinforced male dominance and normalized harm. These findings highlight the need for trauma- and violence-informed, disability-responsive approaches in social work. Service providers must recognize disability-specific abuse, such as the withholding of medication and manipulation of support systems, while addressing both individual and structural harm. Policy efforts should enhance legal protections, expand accessible crisis services, and fully integrate disability into GBV interventions. Centering disabled women’s voices and challenging ableist assumptions is essential to disrupting cycles of violence and advancing equity.
Footnotes
Acknowledgments
We extend our gratitude to S. Evans for her thoughtful review of the interview guide and to Dr M. McCarthy for generously sharing her own guide, which informed the development of our study materials. Most importantly, we thank the participants for sharing their stories, insights, and experiences, without which this research would not have been possible.
Ethical considerations
The study protocol was approved by Memorial University’s Interdisciplinary Committee on Ethics in Human Research (ICEHR) on May 31, 2024: 20250064-SW.
Consent to participate
Informed consent was obtained from all participants in written electronic form and reaffirmed verbally.
Author Contributions
Ami Goulden: Conceptualization, Methodology, Data Collection, Formal Analysis, Writing (Original Draft, Review & Editing), Supervision, Funding Acquisition, Project Administration.
Jullye G. O. Ponsoni: Data Collection, Formal Analysis, Writing (Original Draft, Review & Editing), Project Administration.
Victoria Lewis: Formal Analysis, Writing (Original Draft, Review & Editing).
Israt Jahan Lipa: Formal Analysis, Writing (Original Draft, Review & Editing).
Stephanie L. Baird: Conceptualization, Methodology, Writing (Review & Editing).
All authors reviewed and approved the final manuscript.
Funding
The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This study was supported by a Mitacs Globalink Research Award and the Memorial University Vice-President Research Start-up Support.
Declaration of conflicting interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Data Availability Statement
The datasets generated and analyzed during this study are not publicly available due to ethical restrictions preventing the sharing of interview transcripts.
Open practices
This manuscript is for the special issue on Domestic violence and abuse across the life course: Considerations for practice and research.