"If He Doesn’t Hit Me, He Doesn’t Love Me"

alicebates132
5 days ago
5 min read

I know what you’re thinking - surely no one believes that?

Please be aware this blog contains references to domestic abuse and sexual violence. All people photographed have given consent for photos to be shared.

For the past two weeks, we’ve been delivering a women’s empowerment programme across rural communities in Uganda - tackling period poverty, gender-based violence, and domestic abuse. But nothing could’ve prepared us for the depth of normalisation that surrounds domestic abuse here, nor the sheer strength and resilience it takes for women to survive within it.

When we arrived in one village, our first connection was with the local chairperson - a man in a position of leadership, power, and influence. It later transpired that he believed our programme was going to “spoil their women”. He abuses his own wife and didn’t allow her to attend our sessions. To make it worse, he’s also the person people are meant to report abuse to. The very gatekeeper for safety is often the abuser himself. This is the reality for many women in Uganda.

Abuse Disguised as Love

During our community discussions, one belief kept surfacing - that violence is a ‘form of love’. Women shared that if their husband beats them, it shows he cares. That the beatings are to “discipline them” into becoming better wives. A disturbing mindset passed down through generations.

We ran an activity called “Hands Are Not for Hurting”, teaching women that physical violence is not love - it’s fear. Love doesn’t come with bruises, fear, or silence. Yet for many, this was a revelation. We discussed what hands are and aren’t for and the women drew around their own hands and wrote in them what their hands have accomplished.

Extreme Physical Violence

In some of the communities we visited, the violence women face goes far beyond what many of us could ever imagine. We heard stories of survival in the face of extreme physical brutality.

Base Nabulo, a mother of three, endured unimaginable horror. Her husband cut off her hand, killed their daughter, and then took his own life. Today, she is raising her two surviving children alone. We’ve welcomed her into our support network and economic empowerment groups, where she is beginning the slow but powerful journey of rebuilding her life.

Bisikwa Betty, a single mother of five, also bears the scars of violence. When her partner attacked her with a machete, she raised her hand to block a fatal blow aimed at her neck -her fingers were severed in the process. She survived the attack and spoke publicly in one of our sessions to encourage other women to report abuse early, before it escalates beyond the point of return.

We are in awe of their strength - not just for surviving, but for using their voices to protect others. Their stories are a sobering reminder that beyond trauma lies resilience, and with the right support, healing is possible.

When Justice Fails

In Uganda, women have little to no faith in the police. Corruption is a daily occurrence. I even watched a man bribe an officer to avoid a driving offence. If this is what happens on the roads, what happens behind closed doors? Domestic abuse is not taken in any way seriously enough.

And when women do speak out, the couple are sent to be counselled - not for the woman to be empowered, or to be protected. They're told to "work it out," to fix what's wrong at home, often implying they must change themselves to avoid being hurt again. I can’t imagine how much intimidation and manipulation this process must produce. It’s clear that when women do try to act, they are silenced with further beatings and threats.

No Place to Run

The most devastating truth is this: there is nowhere for women to go. There are no shelters. No safe houses. No social support systems. If a woman leaves her abuser, she often faces homelessness, starvation, and stigma. Ploughing fields for an entire day brings in less than 80 pence - economic empowerment isn't just helpful, it's critical to survival. If the abuser goes to prison, often it’s the victim that bails them out because they cannot afford to sustain themselves financially.

So since working with Ziingo, i’ve had to shift my approach and perspective. In the UK, we would say no woman should have to change or compromise to avoid abuse. But here, encouraging financial independence often does reduce violence. When women earn their own income, they don’t have to ask their partners for money - and that small shift can change everything. We teach women how to make reusable sanitary towels. We train them in catering, hairdressing, and agriculture. We provide seeds and help them form village groups where they gain skills, friendships, and confidence. It’s not the long-term solution we want. But it’s a lifeline - and sometimes that’s what you start with.

The Cost of Silence

A 12-year-old girl was raped while fetching water and left in a bush. A kind woman found her and took her home. Now she’s traumatised, won’t go to school, and lives in a room the size of a porch with no mattress and no furniture. This is how girls disappear from education. This is how the cycle continues - poverty, pregnancy, abuse.

The man who attacked her told her that if she told anyone he would kill her.

Thankfully, she was brave enough to speak out. She confided in her mother, who informed the school, and they, in turn, reached out to Ziingo to see if there was any support we could give.

On this occasion, Ziingo has been able to step in and sponsor this girl to attend school. Finances will no longer be an additional barrier to her accessing education - 100% of her school fees will be paid. And beyond that, I will personally be taking her a mattress, pants, clothes, and shoes - small gestures, but ones that we hope will help her feel even a little bit heard, valued, and loved.

Small Changes, Big Hope

Despite all this, there are moments of hope. In every session, women opened up. They shared things they’d never said aloud before. They cried, they supported each other, and they laughed - sometimes nervously, because here, domestic abuse is almost seen as a ‘funny’ issue. But every joke cracked open a layer of pain, and every shared story helped another woman realise: this isn’t just me. And that matters.

Because when women talk, they rise. When they earn, they grow. And when they believe in their worth, change becomes possible.

We finished off the week with a quick trip to Kenya as we were working near the border. It was just a short visit, but enough time for a little wander and to soak in a new place. And although we didn’t stay long, you’d better believe I’m counting it in my 30 countries before 30 challenge! Because I’ve only got a year left to tick off five more countries... and let’s be real, there’s no way I can afford that!

The Bigger Picture

1 in 3 women worldwide have experienced physical or sexual violence, mostly by an intimate partner. The 2020 National Survey on Violence in Uganda, for example, found that 95% of women had experienced some form of violence.
In rural areas, less than 1% of women have access to shelters or safe spaces.
Over 80% of gender-based violence cases in Uganda go unreported, due to stigma and lack of support.

“If he doesn’t hit me, he doesn’t love me.”

This isn’t just a phrase - it’s a belief embedded deep into the culture, passed down from generations. But it’s not unchangeable.

At Ziingo, we aren’t here to save anyone. We’re here to stand alongside women as they reclaim their voices, their safety, and their futures - one conversation, one skill, one sisterhood at a time.

Because love should never hurt.