By Rihaab Mowlana

The surveillance footage of Cassie and Diddy is gut-wrenching. It’s raw. Violent. The kind of video you watch once and then wish you hadn’t. And yet, somehow, the most disturbing part isn’t what happened - it’s how people responded. “Why didn’t she leave?” they ask. “Why was she texting him like that if she was scared?” “Why is she only speaking up now?” It’s the same chorus every time a survivor comes forward. A brutal assault becomes public, and instead of reckoning with what was done to her, we pick apart her reaction. Her choices. Her silence. Her survival. Because it’s easier, isn’t it? It’s easier to question a victim’s decisions than to confront the fact that we live in a world where abusers are protected - by power, by silence, and by the people who keep asking the wrong questions.

Abuse Doesn’t Always Look Like Abuse

Abuse isn’t a single moment of anger or a black eye you can photograph. It’s a system. A cycle. A long, calculated process that breaks you down from the inside out. Most of the time, it doesn’t even start with violence. It starts with attention. Charm. Control that feels like care.

The rules start small - who you talk to, where you go, what you wear. You start apologising for things you didn’t do. You start believing you’re too sensitive, too difficult, too much. And slowly, the version of yourself you knew starts to disappear.

That’s how abuse works. Not all at once. Not with a slap. But with a thousand quiet moments that convince you that you’re the problem. That you deserve it. That you have nowhere else to go. So when people ask, “Why didn’t she leave?” what they’re really asking is, “Why didn’t she have the strength to run?” without understanding that by the time she could run, her sense of self had already been dismantled.

Leaving Isn’t Brave. It’s Risky.

What most people also don’t understand - or don’t want to - is that leaving isn’t just difficult. It’s dangerous. Statistically, the most violent point in an abusive relationship is when the victim tries to leave. That’s when control is threatened. That’s when the abuser escalates. It’s not just emotional manipulation anymore - it becomes stalking, threats, and sometimes murder. A

nd we’re not talking about hypotheticals. In Sri Lanka alone, over 350 women have been murdered by their husbands, partners, or exes in the last five years. Of the women killed by violence in that time, almost a third were killed by the very person who once claimed to love them.

In 2021 there were 82 deaths. In 2022, it climbed to 95. By 2023, it hit 105. And just eight months into 2024, 71 more women were gone. This isn’t rare. This is a pattern. A national emergency dressed up as “family matters.”

The Law Exists. But Does It Work?

So what’s the system doing to protect these women? Not nearly enough. In an interview with The Sunday Times, DIG Renuka Jayasundara of the Children and Women Bureau revealed that the police receive close to 130,000 reports of family disputes every year - and yet, until recently, only about 0.3% of those resulted in protection orders. That number had risen to 2.3% in 2024, but the reality is still grim. That means thousands of women are asking for help - and getting nothing but silence in return. What’s the point of strong laws under the 2005 Penal Code if they’re not enforced? What’s the point of encouraging women to report abuse if the state’s response is to send them right back into danger?

She added that in most cases, the violence begins with emotional and verbal abuse and then worsens - becoming physical, sexual, and sometimes fatal. By the time a woman is killed, the signs were already there. She asked for help. She knocked on the right doors. But no one opened them.

Shame Keeps Women Silent. And Society Helps.

And here’s where the cultural side kicks in. In a society that rewards women for being quiet, patient, and long-suffering, domestic abuse is still seen as something that should be kept “within the home.” We love to talk about family values. But what about the value of the women being hurt behind those closed doors? Women are told to keep the peace, think of the children, and preserve the family name. They’re told they’ll bring shame on everyone if they go public. And when they finally do? They’re blamed for waiting too long. Or not long enough. That silence - wrapped in shame, obligation, and fear - is exactly what abusers rely on to keep doing what they do.

Shahrana Nizar, Attorney-at-Law (Sri Lanka), Solicitor (UK), and Independent Domestic Violence Advisor (IDVA, UK), puts it plainly: “This is a relationship - not two strangers - and that changes how things are seen and felt within it. Society’s expectations weigh heavily too. Add children into the mix, and it gets even more complicated. The cultural side plays an extremely heavy part - we are taught to fix things, and not give up so easily. We need to change the approach, change how we view things, and start the conversation. That’s how people will begin to recognise abuse in their own relationships and find the confidence to leave.” Her words echo the lived reality of countless survivors: that abuse doesn’t always feel like abuse when you’re inside it - especially when everyone around you is asking you to endure it, hide it, or fix it.

Financial Control Is a Weapon Too

Let’s not forget the economic side of abuse. Many survivors are financially dependent. Their access to money is controlled. They aren’t allowed to work. They’re isolated from friends, from family, from support systems. Even their ID cards or phones are confiscated. So when we say “just leave,” what we’re actually saying is: “Start over from scratch, with no money, no home, and no safety net.” Would you? Because unless you’re ready to offer a place to stay, a meal, a lawyer, and childcare - maybe don’t offer advice disguised as judgment.

Survival Doesn’t Always Look Heroic

We also need to kill the myth of the perfect victim. Survivors don’t always run. They don’t always fight. They don’t always look strong. Sometimes survival looks like compliance. Like saying the right thing to keep the peace. Like sending a text that looks affectionate, because that’s what it takes to stay alive. Cassie’s messages aren’t proof that she wanted it. They’re evidence of how people survive when they’re terrified and trying to stay safe. Expecting someone in survival mode to act with pristine logic is not only unrealistic - it’s dangerous.

Most people can’t even tell their hairdresser they don’t like their haircut. They’ll sit through 45 minutes of awkward silence, leave with bangs they didn’t ask for, and still tip. But those same people will critique a woman for not leaving an abuser with full control over her life, her finances, and her safety.

It’s Not Just Women

And while women and girls make up the overwhelming majority of domestic violence survivors, we also need to acknowledge the people who suffer in silence on the other side of the gender spectrum. Men can be victims too - and often face even more shame, disbelief, and minimisation when they try to speak up. Male survivors are mocked, disbelieved, and told to “man up” or that they should be able to physically overpower their abuser. As a result, many stay silent. Many never report. And many internalise that pain, which turns into something else entirely. Abuse is about power and control - and it can happen to anyone, regardless of gender, age, or sexuality. Recognising that doesn't dilute the issue - it deepens our understanding of it.

Ask Better Questions

So no. “Why didn’t she leave?” isn’t just a bad question. It’s a violent one. It shifts blame. It protects the abuser. It makes the rest of us feel better for doing nothing. The real question is: why did he feel so safe doing it? Why did no one stop him? Why did she have to die before we started paying attention?

Cassie’s story is painful, but it’s not rare. Every time a survivor comes forward, they’re gambling with their safety, their reputation, and their mental health. The least we can do is stop interrogating their survival. Survivors don’t owe us tidy timelines or perfect behaviour. But we owe them better systems. Safer exits. A justice system that doesn’t shrug. A public that doesn’t forget. And a world where “just leave” doesn’t come with the risk of being buried.

Until we build that world, maybe stop asking why they stayed. Start asking why they were never safe to begin with.

If You Need Help

You are not alone.
If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, harassment, or any form of abuse, help is available.

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