08/20/2025
Great example of coercive control in an intimate relationship...
My abusive husband never told me what I should wear, but I ended up avoiding the clothes he didn't like anyway. This is how coercive control works.
At first, it never seemed like âcontrol.â It was just comments here and there, framed as opinions, suggestions, or even âconcerns.â Thatâs the dangerous partâitâs so subtle that you donât always notice when it crosses the line.
One day, I came into the kitchen wearing a simple black blouse. Nothing extravagant, nothing inappropriateâjust a piece of clothing I liked. The moment he saw me, he screwed up his face and asked why I was wearing black. He told me black was the color of evil, that it was ugly, and that I looked terrible in it. I tried to brush it off and said calmly, âThatâs fine, you donât have to wear it.â
But he wasnât satisfied with just saying his piece. He decided to bring our 5-year-old son into the conversation. âMummy doesnât look good in black, does she?â he asked. My heart sank, because I knew what was coming. Our child looked at his father, looked at me, and then did what children in these situations learn to doâhe agreed. âYes, black is not a nice color, mummy.â
That moment hurt more than the insult itself. It was no longer just about me and himâit was about dragging our child into his pattern of control. He was teaching our son to side with him, to reinforce his criticism, and to see me through his eyes. I told him firmly that he was never to involve our child in conversations about my clothing again.
And just like that, the punishment began. For the next two hours, I was trapped in a lecture. He told me I needed to control my reactions, that I should be more accepting of his âopinions,â that he had every right to tell me what he thought, and that the problem was meânot him. He twisted it so that somehow I was the one at fault, for not being âopenâ to his feedback. By the end, what started as a comment about a blouse turned into a three-hour ordeal of criticism, justification, and emotional exhaustion.
A month later, I was standing in front of my closet, trying to choose what to wear. My hand reached for that same black blouse. For a moment, I wanted to put it on. But then the memory hit meâthe insults, the humiliation in front of my child, the endless lecture that drained the life out of me. And I asked myself: âDo I really want to go through that again today? Do I have the energy for that fight?â
Quietly, without even thinking too much about it, I pulled my hand back. I chose something else.
Thatâs the thing about coercive control. Itâs not just about someone telling you what you can or canât do. Itâs about creating an environment where you start controlling yourself. Where you start second-guessing every choiceânot because you donât want something, but because youâre afraid of the fallout. The hassle, the criticism, the silent treatment, the lectures, the angerâitâs exhausting. And little by little, it changes you.
You begin to anticipate their disapproval before they even say a word. You stop wearing things they donât like. You stop expressing opinions they donât agree with. You stop asking for things that might set them off. Piece by piece, you erase yourself, until the person you wereâthe one with preferences, tastes, and confidenceâfeels like a stranger you barely remember.
Thatâs how coercive control works. Itâs not always about rules shouted at you or direct orders. Sometimes itâs about subtle punishments, guilt trips, and endless lectures that chip away at your willpower. Over time, you stop fighting, not because you agree, but because youâre too drained to keep resisting.
And one day, you wake up and realize that everything about âyouââthe way you dress, the way you speak, the way you think, even the way you move through lifeâhas been reshaped into exactly what they want. Not because they ever said, âYou must do this,â but because you learned that it was safer, quieter, and easier not to be yourself at all.
Thatâs the devastating power of coercive control. It doesnât just change what you doâit changes who you are.
