Midwifes supporting women experiencing domestic violence with stethoscope on tummy

How maternity care is a gateway to safety for vulnerable women

Rashida’s* days are busy. Her vital work as a maternity support officer assists some of the community’s most vulnerable women. For many refugees and culturally diverse women experiencing domestic violence, the path to safety often begins with a trusted first-line responder like Rashida.

“Most of the women I support have experienced some form of domestic violence, whether it’s emotional, financial, or physical abuse,” says Rashida.

With dual degrees in Human Services and Arabic linguistics, Rashida brings a unique combination of professional expertise and cultural understanding to her role.

While the program’s primary focus is maternal health, it has become an unexpected but crucial gateway for domestic violence support.

Building trust takes time

“It’s not something that happens in the first meeting,” Rashida explains. “They don’t immediately talk about their personal life. Over time, they feel comfortable with me and start opening up about their situation. It takes time to build that trust.”

This gradual trust-building proves crucial, as many women from Culturally and Linguistically Diverse (CaLD) backgrounds face multiple barriers to accessing mainstream domestic violence support services. Language difficulties, cultural stigma, and limited awareness of available resources can all prevent women from seeking help.

“Sometimes they think this is the norm,” Rashida reveals. “They say, ‘I saw my mom, I saw my sister growing up like that.’ Part of our role is to reassure them that this is not okay and break the stigma that’s been there for years.”

Navigating the system

“It’s really hard for the women to navigate the health system,” she explains. “My role is to break down barriers by providing information and resources, explaining their rights, and helping them make their way through the system and services.”

Despite being thrust into this crucial support role, many first-line responders lack formal training in critical areas such as trauma-informed care, cultural competency, and domestic violence risk assessments. This gap can mean the difference between a woman seeking help or remaining in danger.

Rashida recalls a client who took two years to speak up about her domestic violence experience.

“After the client’s baby was delivered and she exited the program, she kept in touch with me and disclosed what was happening to her 12 months later.”

“With better training in recognising signs and building trust, we could potentially help women reach safety much sooner,” Rashida says.

Investment is crucial

The impact of inadequate support in this area ripples through communities. Without properly trained, often bi-lingual first-line responders, women are falling through the cracks.

Trauma-informed training, cultural competency programs and family, domestic and sexual violence risk assessment training and in-language resources and supports are just some of the areas that could be bolstered to support first-line responders who are receiving disclosures.

“Training in trauma-informed care and cultural competency would be invaluable for first-line responders,” Rashida says. “Understanding how to handle disclosures sensitively and how trauma impacts behaviour could significantly improve our ability to provide meaningful support”.

Despite the complexities of Rashida’s role, she finds deep fulfilment in her work.

“I like to see women in my care become more independent, to thrive,” she says. “I know how it feels coming to a new country, new environment, new culture, new language. To see them thrive, that’s my goal. That’s what keeps me going.”

Rashida was interviewed as part of SSI’s support of 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence. This year, we’re calling on more investment for first-line responders like Rashida to be better equipped to support women experiencing family, domestic and sexual violence.

*Name/s changed to protect privacy and safety.

Community workers supporting kids experiencing domestic violence

Community workers filling the gaps when it comes to women experiencing domestic violence

Sara* is a dedicated community worker who has spent much of her young adult life in various social work roles. Recently, her own cultural background has proven life-changing for some of the female clients in her care – many of whom are experiencing domestic violence and need someone to talk to in-language.

“They don’t come asking for support directly,” she says. “Someone might talk to you about their situation at home seeking support, and then, through the stories they’ve shared with me, I realise they’re experiencing abuse.”

In the three short months Sara has been in her new role helping newly arrived families settle, Sara says that two to three of her five family intakes have already indicated domestic violence, identifying a major gap in support for these women.

New to Australia, women are often unfamiliar with their legal rights, the process of reporting violence, and the support systems available to them. Meeting someone who speaks their language can make all the difference.

Trust established through shared background

As part of Sara’s role, she visits families in their own homes. She recognises that this safe environment encourages them to share their experiences.

“They feel secure enough to open up and share what they’re going through,” she says. “It’s not out in public or an institution where they might feel observed.”

“Speaking the same language helps them feel at ease and it also allows me to build a stronger relationship with them,” she says.

Sara recalls a client who recently shared that she was being physically abused by her husband.

“She saw me as someone who shared her background and spoke the same language,” Sara says. “She asked, ‘Is there any way you can support me? You’re my sister. You understand how to help me.’”

Sara says many of the women who come to her and her colleagues aren’t ready to make a formal report, yet they are in crisis.

“They tell me because they want to see how I can support and protect them within my capacity without opening a formal case,” she says.

“Fearing the repercussions, they wonder, ‘If I involve someone else, will that put me at risk? Now I need to provide this paperwork and documentation. Why is this needed?” Sara says. “The process of getting mainstream support often becomes too overwhelming.”

“Instead, they want to rely on me alone for help. However, my capacity is limited. I’m not a specialist support worker, and I can’t address their immediate safety needs without formal training,” she says.

Despite this, Sara emphasises her moral responsibility around receiving disclosures.

“I have a duty of care. I must do everything I can to support a woman and her children if she has disclosed or is in crisis.”

The bias and barriers of language 

For the women who do try to access mainstream services, Sara points out the challenges with on call interpreters one of many barriers impacting CALD women who are experiencing domestic violence.

“One moment, a woman might be in the middle of disclosing her experiences through an on-call interpreter and, the next minute, the line disconnects. She then faces a long wait to be assigned another interpreter. You can imagine the toll that takes.”

Sara also recalls an instance where she witnessed a male interpreter misinterpret her female client’s disclosure of physical abuse, distorting her words with an obvious bias. She notes that this situation is common.

“We need better training for interpreters. They need to be trauma-informed and specialised in domestic violence to better support women accessing these services.”

The need for greater investment 

Sara’s role extends far beyond traditional community support. She acts as a crucial bridge between the service provider and her vulnerable clients.

While she continues to go beyond her paid role to potentially save the lives of the women who are falling through the cracks, Sara’s ability to perform her job is being impacted.

“When women are at risk, I have to prioritise supporting them, which often requires me to stop what I’m doing and affects my overall capacity,” she says.

“We need more people like me who are supporting these women. We need to have greater flexibility in our roles and must expand the scope of our community support services.”

Sara was interviewed as part of SSI’s support of 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence. This year, we’re calling on more investment for first-line responders like Sara to be better equipped to support women experiencing family, domestic and sexual violence.

*Name/s changed to protect privacy and safety.

Hands of first line responders supporting women experiencing domestic violence

When help hurts: The impact of inadequate first-line responder training on women’s safety

A single mishandled disclosure of domestic violence can silence a woman forever, says Adara* a specialist nurse supporting refugee communities. Her recent experiences highlight the urgent need for better-trained first-line responders, like case workers, health professionals and educators who are working with refugee women experiencing domestic violence.

“The amount of courage it takes to even open up to one person is enormous,” says Adara, who has spent years working with newly arrived refugees.

“When that disclosure is met with unhelpful responses like ‘don’t break up your family,’ it can be devastating. That person might never speak up again,” she says.

The importance of that first disclosure moment has become increasingly apparent through her work. A recent case highlighted the systemic failures when a refugee woman, after gathering the courage to report domestic violence, was discouraged from seeking help – a response Adara describes as “infuriating.”

“Someone takes the immense bravery to speak up, and then gets discouraged from taking steps necessary for their own safety,” she says. “Had people received adequate support and training, that person would not have said what they said.”

Cultural understanding from one woman to another 

Trust and cultural understanding emerge as crucial factors in supporting women experiencing domestic violence. Adara says that clients are more likely to disclose abuse to someone who shares their language and cultural background, and who is a woman.

“It resonates with them when the worker looks like them, talks like them, and has similar lived experiences,” she explains.

Adara reflects on her own cultural background and her journey to Australia with her family in the late nineties. She recalls her younger brother falling sick and the unique challenges the family faced, including the lack of in-language support and resources to help educate her family on his illness and how to support him.

While this experience inevitably led Adara into nursing, it also veered her into her specialist role as a refugee nurse – to be a bridge between the complexities of mainstream services.

“I believe this woman spoke up again to my colleague because it probably resonated with her that my colleague looks like her, talks like her and has got the same life experiences as her. She is so brave for speaking up again, and now we can take the right steps to support her.”

Barriers to mainstream support 

Beyond language difficulties and cultural differences, many women are simply unaware of available support services or their rights.

“They definitely don’t know what’s available to them. They definitely don’t trust anybody or anything,” she notes.

“But even if you take ‘refugee’ out of the context, it could be the same for any domestic violence victim. Sometimes they do know the services that are available to them, but they are afraid to reach out. Abuse chips away at a person’s ability to do things for themselves.”

Mandatory domestic violence response training for all frontline workers, increased investment in bicultural support workers and better coordination between refugee services and domestic violence support agencies should be a start.

“At the very least, if you don’t have the answers, don’t say the wrong thing,” she emphasises. “Say ‘I’m going to connect you with someone who can help’ and find the right information.”

Her experiences underscore a critical message: the first response to a domestic violence disclosure can make the difference between a woman seeking further help or returning to silence.

The need for change is urgent. As refugee communities continue to grow in regional areas, the demand for culturally appropriate domestic violence support services also increases. Training and supporting first-line responders, particularly those from refugee backgrounds themselves, could provide the crucial link between vulnerable women and the help they need.