I remember the first time a man sat in my counselling room and told me he was being hurt by his partner. Not just an argument, proper harm: controlling behaviour, threats, a bruise he tried to hide with a long-sleeved shirt. It didn’t look like the “domestic abuse” pictures you see on TV. There was no dramatic hospital scene. There were phone calls late at night that tore at his head, a pattern of humiliation in front of friends, and the quiet but relentless removal of his money and freedom. That day I started learning something I wish every counsellor knew: male domestic abuse often looks different, and because it looks different, it’s easy for therapists, services and friends to miss, to doubt, or to dismiss.

What and how can male domestic abuse look like in a counselling context, why many men aren’t believed, how that disbelief shows up in therapy, and practical ways we can change our response, all grounded in research and real-world accounts.

Coercive control: what it looks like for men (during and after separation)

Coercive control isn’t a single punch or a one-off insult. It’s a slow, steady architecture of domination — the small, repeated moves that add up to the removal of someone’s freedom, dignity and sense of self. For women, we’re used to seeing certain patterns: shouting, name-calling that targets dignity or motherhood, physical intimidation, humiliation about appearance or sexuality, being cut off from money or friends. Those things hurt in the ways women most often describe, and they’re devastating.

When men describe coercive control, the shape of the harm often looks different — not less serious, just different in the places it targets. In my counselling room I’ve heard the same themes again and again: attacks on masculinity, relentless attempts to isolate a man from his children and community, reputation-destroying social media campaigns, sexual humiliation, and financial manipulation that leaves a man shame-bound and dependent. These tactics are designed to wound where men tend to hold identity: their role as father/partner, their status among peers, and the fragile cultural script of what it means to “be a man.” Recent research and specialist reports confirm this pattern.

Below I set out the most common coercive-control tactics I see for men, with brief clinical examples and the evidence that backs them up.

1) Attacking masculinity — humiliation and sexualised insults

Instead of calling him “bad mother” (a tactic used against women), the abusive partner will call him “not a man”, “weak”, or make repeated references to penis size and sexual adequacy. This is not crude banter; it’s targeted shaming. Sexual humiliation — threats to post intimate images, sharing sexual stories or pictures to embarrass him — is increasingly used as a weapon. Image-based sexual abuse and technology-facilitated harassment are now well-documented tactics of coercive control. For men, these attacks hit identity and provoke acute shame, often stopping them from telling friends or professionals.

Clinical: “Tom” told me his ex threatened to post private photos unless he signed over access to the mortgage. He spent weeks immobilised by shame; the abuse was psychological, but it had real financial consequences.

2) Withholding access to children — the most brutal post-separation lever

Using children as a tool is central to coercive control. After separation, some partners weaponise contact arrangements: cancelling contact at the last minute, influencing children against their father, or making false allegations to courts or social services. The result is an emotional hostage situation — fathers frantic to keep contact, terrified of losing their children, and having to fight a draining legal and reputational battle. Studies on parental alienation and post-separation coercive control show this is a widespread pattern and a deliberate strategy to dominate and punish the other parent.

Clinical: “Ade” described being labelled as “dangerous” after separation; social media posts and anonymous complaints to his ex’s solicitor made him feel he had to choose between being present for his children and being safe.

3) Reputation destruction — social media, rumours and legal bluffs

Digital platforms allow abuse to be public, fast and far-reaching. Abusers post accusations, intimate material, or lies about a man’s behaviour. For men who feel their social standing is crucial — work reputation, friendships, community respect — this kind of attack is crushing. Research into image-based abuse and tech-facilitated coercive control shows how platforms are used to humiliate and isolate victims.

Clinical: A client’s employer phoned after half-truths were posted about his relationship; colleagues whispered and he felt professionally cornered. He started to believe he’d lose everything.

4) Isolation from friends, hobbies and support networks

Classic coercive control involves cutting a person off from sources of support. For men this often means interventions that attack male social spaces or hobbies: discouraging pub nights, claiming he drinks too much when he goes to football, criticising friends until he avoids them. Men then lose the informal supports that might encourage help-seeking. The Mankind UK survey and related qualitative research repeatedly report social isolation as a central experience for male victims.

Clinical: “Mark” stopped going to the gym because his partner mocked him afterwards; the gym had been his main coping strategy and, once lost, his mood deteriorated rapidly.

5) Financial control and guilt-based spending restriction

Financial abuse isn’t only “locking someone out of a bank account.” For men, it often looks like being made to feel guilty for spending on themselves (luxury items labelled “selfish”), being expected to cover all household costs, or being manipulated into debt (loans taken out in his name, bills mismanaged). That financial squeeze ties a man to the relationship and to shame. The literature on male economic abuse shows similar patterns to those documented for women, but with different shame trajectories that delay disclosure.

Clinical: A client paid for everything to “prove” he loved the family; when he suggested buying a winter coat for himself, he was told he didn’t deserve it.

Post-separation escalation — why the danger often increases

Separation can remove the abuser’s immediate physical proximity but often increases coercive tactics. People who relied on control sometimes switch to legal and technological methods: false allegations, repeated court applications, smear campaigns, and using children as messengers. Post-separation coercive control is now a recognised pattern in qualitative studies — it’s not a series of accidents, it’s a strategy. The legal abuse scale and newer research describe how abusers weaponise family law processes and social institutions to continue control.

Practical therapy implications — how to assess and respond

Ask the questions they won’t: instead of only “Has anyone hit you?”, try “Has anyone ever threatened to post something about you online? Has anyone tried to stop you seeing your children or friends? Who manages the money?” These invite disclosure of non-physical but highly damaging abuse.

Document carefully: screenshots, dates, missed contact incidents and bank statements can be key evidence — and having them validated in a clinical note helps men feel believed.

Safety planning must include digital and legal risks: advise about privacy settings, changing passwords, and where to get legal advice about false allegations or parental alienation tactics. Evidence on technology-facilitated abuse shows the importance of handling digital footprints with care.

Hold complex identities: men can be both perpetrators and victims at different times. A careful, non-shaming risk assessment allows us to work with their vulnerability while managing safety for children and partners where needed. Recent reviews recommend this nuanced approach.

Coercive control for men is not a copy of the female experience; it’s an alternative architecture of harm — different methods, equally corrosive effects. If we stay rigid about what “counts” as abuse, we will keep missing men who need help. Clinicians must expand their radar: listen for attacks on masculinity, document digital and legal forms of coercion, and take seriously the devastation of being cut off from your children or your friends. The research and survivor reports are clear — the tactics are there, and the harm is real. Believing men, asking the right questions and building practical safety plans are how we respond.

How male domestic abuse often presents in therapy

If you’re used to picturing domestic abuse as repeated severe physical violence, you’ll startle less often with the stories men tell once you broaden that image. Research consistently shows that men are more likely than many expect to report emotional, coercive, financial and legal forms of abuse — though physical assault does occur too. The hurt is real; its fingerprints are sometimes quieter: sleep loss, anxiety, shame, substance use, withdrawal from friendships, chronic low mood, hypervigilance. These are the things men bring to us, usually after years of trying to cope alone.

In clinical sessions this translates into presentations like:

• A man who says he ‘can’t do anything right’ and avoids family gatherings because his partner constantly belittles him. Underneath is coercive control and emotional abuse.
• A man who visits his GP for insomnia and anxiety but won’t disclose the partner’s threats; when probed, he minimises, fearing ridicule or losing custody access. Help-seeking can be delayed for years.
• Men who are victims of financial abuse: denied access to bank accounts, gaslit about bills, left with debt. The result is practical crisis and severe shame. PMC

Researchers and helplines report that when men do reach out, they often describe patterns of abuse rather than single headline-grabbing events — patterns that erode identity, autonomy and mental health.

Why men are often not believed — and why that matters in therapy

There are three linked reasons men are commonly disbelieved: social narratives, professional blind spots, and systemic service design.

1. Cultural storylines. Domestic abuse is (rightly) framed in public discourse as overwhelmingly perpetrated by men against women. This is important to hold, but it creates a blind spot: when a man says he’s a victim, people often default to scepticism. The idea that “men can’t be victims” is brittle but still present in public and private conversations. In the UK, official numbers show hundreds of thousands of men affected — yet many still experience disbelief and stigma.
2. Therapist and professional scepticism. Some therapists, police officers or medical staff may unconsciously expect male victims to be the perpetrators. A number of reviews report that men are less likely to be believed by services and more likely to encounter responses that minimise their accounts. That disbelief can retraumatise — it tells the man that his experience is invisible or, worse, a joke.
3. Service configuration. Many support systems (shelters, public messaging, intake forms) are designed around female victims. That means male victims encounter practical and emotional barriers: no male-targeted referrals, a lack of single-sex spaces they can trust, and messaging that doesn’t speak to them. The result is fewer men accessing help and a greater burden of secrecy.

In therapy, disbelief can show up subtly: hurried referrals, questions that imply the man must be mistaken, or an assumption that the man is “defensive” when he asserts his experience. Some men report that even well-meaning clinicians glance for physical marks and, finding few, conclude the story is exaggerated. That response is devastating; it compounds shame and reduces help-seeking further.

Specific examples — real voices, anonymised

Helplines and case studies bring this into sharp relief. The Men’s Advice Line publishes anonymised case studies where men describe gaslighting, being prevented from seeing their children, threats to report false allegations, and coercive use of legal processes. One case, “James,” speaks of being told he is “overreacting” and how services assumed his partner’s account by default; he only found help after months of calling specialised male services. These are not outliers — they mirror patterns documented in academic reviews.

A feature piece from the Centre for Social Justice summarises why men are overlooked: public perception, under-reporting, and service gaps that fail to reflect the one-third of victims who are men in some datasets. When therapists read these voices alongside the research, the message is clear: disbelief is not just a judgement; it is a practical barrier to safety and recovery.

What the research tells us about help-seeking — and how to respond

Systematic reviews show consistent themes: stigma, masculine norms, fear of not being believed, and inappropriate service responses are the main barriers preventing men from seeking help. Men often wait until crisis point. As therapists, we must create pathways that don’t assume a stereotyped presentation.

Practical implications for counselling:

• Ask differently. Use questions that invite the disclosure of coercive, emotional and financial abuse: “Who controls the money at home?”, “Has anyone made you feel afraid in your own home?”, “Have you been prevented from seeing friends or doing things you used to do?” These open avenues men will recognise. PMC
• Normalise and validate. Men often come laden with shame. Statements like “I believe you; people in your situation commonly feel ashamed” dismantle isolation. Validation is not the same as assigning blame — it’s the first step to safety.
• Know the local landscape. Have a list of male-friendly resources (Men’s Advice Line, specialist services, legal clinics). Knowing where to signpost makes the difference between a therapeutic hour that stalls and one that begins a safety plan.
• Be trauma-informed, not gender-biased. Trauma responses look similar across genders; our assessment must be trauma-focused rather than filtered by assumptions about who is likely to be the victim.

Holding complexity: when men have also used violence

One of the thornier clinical realities is that some men who present as victims have also used violence. The data show complexity: a proportion of male victims have perpetrated harm themselves, sometimes in the same relationship. This doesn’t negate their victimhood, but it does complicate risk assessment and safety planning. Good practice is to hold both truths: assess risk thoroughly, be non-judgemental, and when appropriate, work with multi-agency partners to manage safety for all involved.

A short guide for therapists — immediate steps you can take

1. Believe the disclosure until proven otherwise. Treat it as a clinical fact that needs assessment, not an accusation to be dismissed.
2. Use trauma- and gender-informed language. Avoid phrasing that implies surprise or scepticism.
3. Screen for coercive control and financial abuse. These are common and hugely damaging, especially to men who may not have visible injuries.
4. Create a safety-first plan. Ask about children, pets, immigration status, and financial levers — these are often points of control.
5. Maintain professional curiosity. Keep asking, gently, and document. If something feels off — fear, minimisation, or contradictions — explore it in a non-blaming way.
6. Signpost to male-competent services. Be ready with helplines and local services that understand male victims.

Helping Men Understand Abuse

Many of the men I see in therapy have no language for what they’ve experienced. They might say, “We argued a lot” or “She could be quite intense” — but they rarely call it abuse. They associate that word with violence, shouting, or physical harm, and even then, they imagine a man as the perpetrator, not the victim.

So part of my role often becomes one of education. I find myself gently explaining what abuse actually is — not as a way to label or pathologise, but as a way to help men make sense of confusion, self-blame, and shame.

The Hidden Faces of Abuse

When I introduce the idea that abuse can be emotional, verbal, sexual, financial, or spiritual, many men look at me as if I’ve said something radical.
They’ll say things like:

“But she never hit me.”
“I probably just pushed her too far.”
“She was going through a lot. I should have been more patient.”

These are the internalised voices of responsibility, the idea that men must always be accountable, strong, and in control. Yet when we slow things down and explore what really happened, a very different picture often emerges.

Emotional and Verbal Abuse

For men, emotional abuse rarely arrives as a single explosive moment. It’s often delivered through small, repeated cuts to their self-worth: being told they’re useless, weak, inadequate, or unmanly. Some hear constant comparisons to other men — “Why can’t you be more like him?” Others live under a cloud of disapproval or criticism that never lifts.

Over time, this erodes confidence and reshapes a man’s sense of identity. He starts to believe the words are true. He begins to shrink — not just in his relationship, but in the rest of his life.

Financial Abuse

Money can be a quiet battlefield. Many male clients describe paying all the bills while being made to feel guilty for wanting to spend anything on themselves. Some are deliberately excluded from financial decisions, or find their partner has accumulated debt in their name. Others live with constant criticism over their spending, however small.

Because society teaches men that providing is part of their worth, financial control cuts at the heart of their masculinity. They don’t see it as abuse — they see it as failure.

Sexual Abuse and Humiliation

Sexual abuse against men remains one of the least spoken-about forms of harm. It doesn’t always involve force; sometimes it’s coercion, ridicule, or humiliation. I’ve heard stories of men being mocked about their performance, body, or penis size; being threatened with exposure of private photos; or being pressured into unwanted acts.

Many men can’t even name these experiences. Society expects men to always want sex — so when that intimacy becomes manipulative or shaming, they don’t know what to call it. The shame can be immense.

Spiritual and Religious Abuse

When religion or spirituality is used to control, it can leave deep wounds. Men tell me about partners who have weaponised faith — saying things like, “God will punish you if you leave me” or “You’re not a real man of faith.”

For men raised with strong moral or religious codes, these attacks don’t just target their behaviour — they target their soul. It can take months for them to realise that faith, too, can be misused to dominate and isolate.

Coercive Control

Coercive control for men often looks different from the way we typically describe it for women. Women are often controlled through fear, financial dependency, and the erosion of autonomy — told they’re bad mothers, unattractive, or incapable, while being isolated from support.

For men, control often takes aim at their masculinity.
It can sound like:

• “You’re not a real man.”
• “You’re pathetic.”
• “You can’t even satisfy me.”

It might look like:

• Being cut off from friends, hobbies, or colleagues.
• Having access to children withheld after separation.
• Public humiliation on social media — stories twisted to make them look dangerous or unstable.
• Financial guilt: being made to spend everything on the family while feeling selfish for buying anything for themselves.

Where women are often made to feel unsafe, men are often made to feel unworthy. Their identity, rather than their body, becomes the battlefield.

The Reluctance to Use Labels

One of the starkest contrasts I’ve noticed between male and female clients is how they relate to psychological labels.
Many of my female clients want a name for what they’ve experienced. They find relief in words like gaslighting, narcissistic abuse, or coercive control. A label validates what happened and gives structure to the chaos.

Male clients, by contrast, often resist labels altogether.
They’ll say:

“I don’t want to make her out to be a monster.”
“I don’t like blaming people.”
“I just want to move on.”

They tend to view labels as excuses rather than explanations. Some are wary of being seen as “playing the victim”. Others believe that analysing what happened will make them look weak or petty.

This resistance has cultural roots. From an early age, men are taught to take responsibility, to fix, to protect — even when they’re the ones being hurt. The idea that they could have been manipulated, deceived, or controlled challenges the very core of their social conditioning.

When Masculinity Meets Shame

In therapy, shame sits in the room like a heavy fog. Many men describe feeling stupid for not noticing the signs sooner, or embarrassed that they allowed it to happen. Some are terrified of being judged by friends or colleagues.

Because masculinity is so closely tied to control and competence, being manipulated feels humiliating. They can’t grieve properly, because grief feels self-indulgent. They can’t get angry, because anger might confirm the stereotype of the “angry man”. They can’t mourn, because mourning implies loss — and loss implies weakness. So they internalise. They work harder. They blame themselves. They grow smaller in the name of being “strong”.

Therapy as Re-Education

Therapy, for these men, becomes a place not only for healing but for learning. I often begin with psychoeducation: drawing out the different types of abuse, offering real-life examples, and allowing space for reflection.

I might say:

“If your friend told you his partner called him names, humiliated him, and stopped him seeing his children, would you call that abuse?”

The room usually goes quiet. After a pause, most say yes — and then slowly realise that their own story fits the same pattern.

The point isn’t to pathologise anyone. It’s to help them reclaim language that has been denied to them. Once they can name what happened, they can begin to feel it — and once they can feel it, they can begin to heal.

Reclaiming the Right to Grieve

For men who have been abused, the grief is layered. They mourn not only the relationship, but the image of themselves they once held. They grieve the man who thought he was in control, the father who thought he could protect, the partner who believed love was enough.

In therapy, I try to make space for that mourning. Sometimes it comes out as quiet sadness, other times as exhaustion, or occasionally as anger that’s been suppressed for years. Each is valid. Each is necessary. Grief doesn’t make them weak, it makes them human.

A New Kind of Strength

As men start to understand what happened, something remarkable occurs: they begin to redefine strength. It’s no longer about endurance, silence, or denial. It’s about honesty, vulnerability, and the courage to tell the truth — even when that truth is uncomfortable.

They learn that accountability doesn’t mean taking all the blame, that forgiveness doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened, and that masculinity doesn’t have to mean stoicism. Healing becomes an act of rebellion.

Research That Supports This

• A 2024 Australian study found that in 77.5% of domestic violence cases involving men, there were multiple forms of abuse, often including coercive control and emotional manipulation.
• A Jordanian study with married men found patterns of psychological and emotional abuse, coercive control, and neglect that had profound effects on mental health.
• The “Barriers to Men’s Help-Seeking for Intimate Partner Violence” review highlights how masculine norms — the need to be strong and self-reliant — prevent men from recognising or reporting abuse.
• Westmarland & Burrell’s work on men using helplines found that male callers often framed their experience through shame and disbelief, struggling to reconcile their suffering with cultural expectations of manhood.

Many men are living through abuse they cannot name. They are silenced not by violence, but by culture — by the idea that being male means being unbreakable.

As therapists, we have a responsibility to challenge that silence. We must help men find the words, reframe their experiences, and understand that what happened to them matters. Because until a man can say, “What I experienced was abuse,”
he can never fully say, “I deserve better.”

Ending the silence

The evidence is clear: men experience domestic abuse in significant numbers, but their pathways into services are blocked by shame, disbelief, and system design. Counsellors are in a unique position to change that. We do it in small ways — by asking the right questions, by holding the possibility that a man can be both ashamed and harmed, by refusing to let gender stereotypes determine who gets believed.

If you’re reading this as a therapist: let your room be a different kind of space. Let it be a place where men can say what’s true without fearing ridicule, where safety replaces shame, and where complexity is welcomed rather than feared. If you’re reading this as a man who has been hurt: you are not frivolous, you are not a liar, and there are people and services who will listen. Start with one step — a call, an email, a session — and let the truth of your experience be the beginning of getting help.

Male Minds Counselling: Supporting Men Through Domestic Abuse, Shame and Recovery

At Male Minds Counselling, I specialise in helping men who are struggling with emotional pain, coercive control, or abuse in their relationships. Many of the men I work with don’t always recognise what they’ve experienced as abuse — they just know they’re constantly walking on eggshells, being criticised, or feeling like they’ve lost their sense of self. My role is to help men make sense of those experiences, without shame or judgement, and begin to rebuild confidence and control over their lives.

If you are a man who has been controlled, belittled, or isolated by a partner, or if you’re still trying to recover after a difficult breakup or high-conflict relationship, counselling can help. Together, we can explore what happened, process the anger and confusion, and work towards restoring your emotional strength and boundaries.

My practice is based in Reading, Berkshire, and I also cover surrounding areas including Newbury, Theale, Caversham, Wokingham, Bracknell, Tilehurst, Calcot and nearby towns and villages. I also offer secure online counselling for men across the UK.

I provide a safe, confidential space where you can talk openly about your experiences — whether you are dealing with emotional or psychological abuse, coercive control, financial manipulation, post-separation conflict, or parental alienation. These experiences can leave deep scars, even if there are no visible bruises. Therapy offers a space to begin healing, regain clarity, and reconnect with who you are beyond the pain.

Male Minds Counselling supports men facing:

• Emotional and psychological abuse
• Coercive control and manipulation
• Financial and sexual abuse
• Depression, anxiety, and shame linked to relationship trauma
• Post-separation abuse and parental alienation

You don’t have to face this alone. Reaching out for counselling is not a sign of weakness — it’s an act of courage and self-respect.

Based in Reading, Berkshire – covering Newbury, Theale, Caversham, Wokingham, Bracknell, Tilehurst, Calcot, and surrounding towns.
Online sessions available across the UK.
To book a confidential consultation or learn more, visit Male Minds Counselling

Key sources and further reading

• Huntley A-L et al., Help-seeking by male victims of domestic violence and abuse: mixed-methods systematic review, BMJ Open, 2019.
• Taylor JC et al., Barriers to Men’s Help-Seeking for Intimate Partner Violence, PMC article.
• Kolbe V., Domestic Violence Against Men—Prevalence and Risk Factors, 2020 (review).
• Karystianis G. et al., Characteristics of adult male victims in intimate partner violence, 2024.
• Men’s Advice Line (case studies and helpline for male victims).
• Centre for Social Justice — article on why men are overlooked as victims.