An examination of five women’s experiences and thousands of pages of agency records found that seeking help could bring further harm.
An examination of five women’s experiences and thousands of pages of agency records found that seeking help could bring further harm. Researchers say practical support, trust and Māori leadership must be central to change.
By Webfit News | 5 November 2026
For three and a half years in emergency housing, Ngākau received calls about her accommodation needs. She explained her situation, heard how difficult it would be to help and was assessed for her level of need.
According to a new report, her agency records show that those repeated conversations were followed by no further action.
Her experience illustrates a central finding: contact with services does not necessarily translate into safety, stable housing or meaningful assistance for people escaping family violence.
Researchers examining New Zealand’s family violence response say the system can place exhausting demands on survivors while leaving the violence and its consequences inadequately addressed.
The report was led by University of Auckland law professor Julia Tolmie, alongside AUT academic Rachel Smith and independent researcher Leah Robinson, who is Ngāruahine.
It examines five women’s experiences, drawing on their accounts and original agency files. The women’s interactions with hundreds of professionals over decades generated thousands of pages of records.
The analysis covered police, Oranga Tamariki, health and housing services, the Ministry of Social Development, courts, education providers, refuges, specialist family violence services and legal services.
This is an in-depth qualitative study, rather than a nationwide survey. Its findings cannot establish how frequently every problem occurs across New Zealand. Its strength lies in tracing what happened to the women across agencies and over time, including what professionals recorded and how those records influenced subsequent responses.
The researchers found that women were repeatedly referred between services without receiving the practical assistance they needed.
Ngākau described encounters that began with warmth and concern but did not lead to help.
“They would sit down… all love and caring,” she said. After explaining her story and what she needed, she learned that “you would never hear from them again”.
The burden extended beyond referrals.
Ngākau, who has permanent injuries from intimate partner violence, repeatedly had to obtain medical certificates to access financial and educational support.
“We have to explain our permanent injuries to multiple people on multiple different platforms, multiple times a year,” she said.
Smith said women coping with crises, limited resources and responsibility for young children were required to repeatedly prove their need for basic assistance.
Another concern was how agencies interpreted the women’s circumstances.
“We found that services often reframed the survivor’s experience of abuse as a mental health issue rather than focussing on the family violence they’re experiencing,” Tolmie said.
The distinction matters. Treating a woman’s distress as an individual problem can divert attention from the violence, coercion and material insecurity contributing to it.
In Ava’s case, the researchers found that her partner’s descriptions of her behaviour, mental health and addiction issues appeared across service records over more than a decade and were accepted as fact.
Robinson said negative assumptions became embedded in decisions, compounding the harm the women experienced.
The researchers argue that the pattern went beyond isolated instances of an abusive partner successfully manipulating a professional. They describe a systemic response that could reinforce the position of the person using violence.
Three participants described agency responses after separation as so harmful that they retrospectively questioned whether staying and enduring the abuse would have been preferable.
That finding concerns the consequences of the help they received, rather than suggesting that remaining with an abusive partner is safer.
According to the report, women experienced some agency practices as degrading, coercive and destabilising. Their encounters with the system contributed to losses involving their children, financial security and homes.
“While some practitioners provided valuable support, responses were often unhelpful, unsafe, and at times extremely harmful,” Tolmie said.
The report also identifies examples of care that helped.
Several kaupapa Māori services and practitioners provided sustained relationships, practical assistance and awhi to three participants.
At Te Puea Memorial Marae, the Manaaki Tangata e Rua programme supported Māreikura and her tamariki by using relationships with state agencies to bring services directly to her.
That reduced the burden of navigating disconnected organisations.
The researchers describe an approach that recognised Māreikura’s efforts as a Māori mother and treated her respectfully, rather than starting from an assumption that she was doing something wrong.
The authors say improving coordination alone will not resolve problems rooted in the system’s assumptions and ways of working.
Their proposed direction includes:
The researchers say wāhine Māori are particularly poorly served by individualistic, Eurocentric responses. They argue that a Māori-centred approach could improve outcomes for all survivors and their whānau.
Across the five women’s experiences, the report draws a clear distinction between being processed by a service and being helped. A call, an assessment or a referral only becomes useful when it leads to greater safety and support.
All participant names have been changed. This article is based on the University of Auckland’s media release about the report, issued on 5 November 2026.
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