Why blame victims?

The shameful ignorance of victim blaming

Jun 11, 2025

Victim blaming is just another social shortcut, a way for society to avoid discomfort, protect power, and maintain the illusion of control. But it comes at a cost: it silences victims, reinforces injustice, and lets real harm go unchecked. Victim blaming feeds avoidance of accountability.

Blaming victims is not justice, it’s fear pretending to be order.

Lately, I’ve encountered some deeply unhelpful and at times harmful comments about challenges I’m going through. Often, the ignorance behind these remarks leaves me stunned into silence.

It’s a steady drip into an already full cup.

And as anyone trained in Mental Health First Aid would understand, it only takes one more drop to cause an overflow.

These responses reflect a lack of awareness about how emotional strain accumulates. Worse, they can cross into victim blaming, which is not only dismissive but actively harmful to someone's recovery. Blaming someone for their distress adds shame where there should be support and it shows a failure to offer even the most basic psychological safety.

In moments of struggle, people don’t need judgement. They need compassion, validation, and space to be human.

It wasn’t something big, although there was plenty in the cup already, taking up more space than a tight zipper, on the canopy attached to the ute.

When I arrived at the campsite in the State park, it was not long before nightfall. I quickly pulled out the tent, from the stars above, it didn’t look like rain (although we need it) and rolled out the canopy awning just in case. I positioned the tent to edge of the canopy, popped out the chair, table, rolled out the sleeping bag. No sooner had I put the pillow down, nightfall had arrived. It was glorious.

The stars spoke in a language of their own, against a dark blue, lavender sky.

The mountain and trees a silhouette against the full moon and stars. I stopped and took a long breath, before a few tiny drops on my face appeared.

As with many things in life, the night didn’t go to plan. What started out as warming the heart, ended in cracking wide, an aching soul.

It was my first night after returning to the state, a 6,000km round trip to support family. I was ready for a good nights sleep in the tent, having free camped most of the way home, tucked up in the ute, where it was far warmer.

At just after midnight, the wind picked up and did its best to carry the canopy off into the bush. Landing, twisted and flapping like a kite stuck to a tree, fortunately still attached to the ute. It landed across the tent. By 2am I decided it was warmer and safer to sleep in the ute and I’ll deal with the mess in the morning.

When sunlight broke, things were scattered. Fortunately nothing was broken. I decided to pack up early and drive into town, for something warm on my stomach. I attempted to roll that damn canopy 6 times! I watched Youtube to make sure I was doing it correctly. “Really a two person job” he said!

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t quite get it into the right position. I am 5ft 2 inches, my arms not wide enough to spread across each end, to keep it smooth and tight without an extra person. I tried again, again and again. After everything the last 7 years had dished out, it wasn’t going to be a canopy to break my spirit.

Finally! It fit!! I may have even giggled to myself at the success of persistence.

I began to tug at the zipper, it wouldn’t budge. I tried again, again, again. Such is the conditioning in my genes, we rarely give in or give up.

It wouldn’t move. I tried again, again, again. A different way, another and another.

It was nearly 7am, the light was increasing, the temperature was a low 2-4 degrees, slowly warming up. My hands were losing their colour. ‘Not now’ I thought (in frustration). I experience Raynaud’s in my extremities when the temperatures drop, my coordination declines, fatigue rapidly increases. My fingers were beginning to look translucent. I couldn’t feel the zipper.

My hands and feet were cold. I hadn’t even noticed I couldn’t feel my toes.

I’d run out of warm water.

I hadn’t showered for days.

I was too tired to cook, too exhausted to eat.

I missed my dog, my children, family, the life I had. The internal dialogue began to unravel. From a pebble to a catastrophe, from a stuck zipper on a canopy.

I didn’t care the ground was wet, covered in dirt (not a blade of grass across this region from 5 years of drought). I let myself fall onto the ground, I let go of the zipper, sat in the mud and exhaled.

The tears flowed, the frustration, anger, disappointment. In myself, in others, in the way life turned out.

This wasn’t the plan I sacrificed for, worked hard for, studied my butt off for. I gave up time with my children (time that would have been far better, given to them). I raised myself from the ground up; I didn’t borrow, I didn’t take, I worked hard. I put myself into a position, where I could reap the benefits of hard work and attempt to make up for the life my children should have had.

I had planned to go hard and fast; no mortgage, no demanding bills or living fortnight to fortnight. Over a decade of single parenting and I built our life from the rubble of a nasty divorce, I left only with what mattered most, our children. I visualised simple, secure, safe. I would write and pursue at least one dream for the first time in my life. I knew it would be hard and I had the capacity. I’d have time to be a Mum, finally, to enjoy grandchildren, the garden, spending time outdoors.

Even with the diagnosis of MS in the middle, nothing swayed me from creating the life we deserved.

I was so close. So close, I held in it in my hands. The same hands that couldn’t hold a thing right now.

However, that was then. Now, it’s gone, most of it was gone.

I gambled on a relationship, to be scammed out of the whole lot. I sold the house, loaned him a car (spare) that came back worthless; sold my next car, the Harley, the caravan, the bus, my soul (probably). The further I was in the hole, the further it took to get out. The nurturer in me trusted, had faith, believed he meant every word and would give it all back. There never seemed to be a right time to leave. I knew when he had become so co-dependent, expecting me to pay his bills, without even asking, our time was up.

When I look back now I can see the coercive control, it wasn’t loud or obvious. It was subtle, manipulative, deceitful and cruel. I was (until the last year), the type of person who would give their last dollar, if someone else needed it. I always had a way to survive. So I did. I gave it, to the person I thought loved me more than I could love myself. The person who knew my vulnerabilities, with stealth precision, preyed on my weaknesses and everything I had built, was an inch from all gone.

Twelves months ago this month, I pulled the pin. I knew the jump would hurt, staying would be more harmful. I gave a 6 mth warning, then 3, then 2, then 1 and a week out, I asked again to make things right. On the day I asked for the key, he threw it at me, before driving off and leaving his dog in my care. This told me more about his masking, than my gut had been niggling at for the last 6 years. When his old dog was dying, he didn’t even turn up to say goodbye, this told me more about how wrong I had really been about his character. It was deeply flawed, fake and it wasn’t love.

Yet now, I was drowning.

I had come into a relationship with a person pretending to be stuck in the deep end, leading me to believe they were the victim, needing support and help. I didn’t hesitate, I jumped in. I swam hard, I tossed the ring and he swam to safety, leaving me exhausted in the middle, sinking. He knew I would go under. In the last year, since losing my work, my home, my security; all the times I covered his ass, when he claimed he had no money, he was paying off his own debts and building his own assets.

I didn’t have answers. I didn’t know why. I couldn’t process how someone could be so calculating and cruel. I had to get out. So I used every ounce of energy I had, to swim as far from him as possible. Now I’m treading water.

Here I was, a year on, sitting in the dirt with my tears.

I now have a $55K battle through the courts to recover my losses, even more to pursue a civil claim for the financial and emotional abuse.

I’m not frustrated because I am alone. I like alone.

Alone is far better than being in a relationship with a liar, living with dishonesty, leaving not an ounce of trust.

I don’t need help to stand back up.

What I could do without is the judgement, the assumptions and humiliation of pretending to know what I am going through and you don’t. Walk a day in my shoes and I guarantee exhaustion.

I looked towards the clifftop, ruminate on the peaceful miles I’d driven over the last year, just to keep afloat, distracted, alive. Despite how far I’d fallen, the emptiness of my possessions, the lightness of my living, was far, far better than what I had been existing in for the six years prior.

It wasn’t the only lesson of abuse of trust, in the last few years and I doubt it will be the last. I am trying desperately not to let it, take more than I’ve already lost, to still believe in the good in people. Right now, that’s a bit difficult.

So when the going gets tough, I hit the wall, I can no longer swim, I call on curiosity, so I may drift into calmer waters. After all, it could be worse, I could be him.

So why do so many find it easier to blame the victims of abuse, of crime, violence, scams or harm?

Why is it so hard, to imagine someone you know, could cause so much pain and suffering to others?

Is empathy becoming extinct? Is compassion declining?

I needed to write, to pull apart the thoughts and curious wandering.

I began to swim towards the shore, where hope was waiting.

Reframing accountability

“Don’t fix the crack, stop the person swinging the hammer.”

In Relationships:

This idea is especially important in emotional or abusive dynamics:

It's not that there's a "communication issue" — it’s that the person refuses to take accountability.
It’s not just financial strain — it’s that the person exploits and controls finances as a form of power
It’s not that you shouldn’t have trusted them - it’s they should have paid you back and not stolen your money
It’s not that you should change your appearance to be more appealing - it’s they shouldn’t cheat or lie or gaslight

Reframing the Focus:

Instead of asking:

“How do I fix the situation?”

Ask:

“Who caused this, and what do their actions say about their character and my safety?”

“Empathy doesn’t rescue, it reminds us we’re not alone. And in that reminder, healing begins.”

Empathy and compassion don’t erase someone’s pain, but they create the safety needed to face it. When people feel seen, heard, and held without judgment, they’re more likely to open up, process their experiences, and begin healing. Sometimes, simply knowing someone is beside you, not to fix you, but to walk with you, is what makes recovery possible.

I don’t need someone to rescue me, fix the problem or even remove it (although how nice would a magic wand be!). I have to work through it.

What isn’t needed, is judgement, assumptions, ignorance and making it harder.

Bottom Line:

You can’t fix a toxic situation by solving the symptoms.
You must understand and respond to the person behind the problem their intentions, behaviour, and impact.

Shame belongs to the perpetrator, not the person who was harmed.

How to Support — Not Blame — Victims of Abuse or Scams

Listen without judgment
– Ask what happened, not why they let it happen.
Understand manipulation
– Abusers and scammers use trust and fear to gain control. It's not about weakness.
Focus blame where it belongs
– Shift from “They should’ve known” to “They were deceived — that’s not their fault.”
Learn about coercion and abuse
– The more you know, the more compassion you show.
Use empowering language
– “I believe you.” “That shouldn’t have happened to you.”
Encourage healing, not silence
– Support their choices, not your judgments.

Why Do We Trust People Who Then Harm Us?

We trust because connection is a survival instinct, we are wired to seek safety, love, and belonging. Trust is essential for relationships, intimacy, and emotional health. Without it, we isolate, and isolation is harmful.

People who abuse that trust often don't show their harmful side right away. Manipulators, abusers, and scammers often appear charming, attentive, and even vulnerable. They build connection first, which makes the betrayal later feel confusing and devastating.

We also tend to project our own good intentions onto others, assuming they’ll treat us the way we treat them. That hopefulness can make us overlook red flags or justify harmful behaviour.

And if someone has experienced trauma, particularly in childhood, their understanding of love and safety may already be tangled with unpredictability, control, or harm, making it harder to recognise when trust is being violated.

The freedom of curious Tully

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