In debates across Poland and Germany today, one hears an increasingly familiar refrain: “Women don’t want to work.” Yet, for a significant number of survivors, the issue is not reluctance — it is not permitted. As I reflect on my own experience, I find it imperative to ask a difficult yet necessary question: What about the women who were never allowed to work because their partner’s narcissistic control made every step toward autonomy a threat?
The Reality of Economic Abuse
Economic abuse is not an abstract concept—it is deeply gendered, systemic, and highly consequential. Research clearly demonstrates that coercive control frequently manifests through financial manipulation and restrictions on professional life. A 2025 qualitative review in the Journal of Family Violence describes how survivors experience a constant state of “unfreedom”—a world where their decisions, mobility, and even finances are monitored, judged, and controlled.
Moreover, a recent meta-ethnography on financial abuse outlines a four-stage journey in such relationships: control is first established subtly, then openly exploited, before culminating in crisis and post-separation financial struggles. This is not just emotional or psychological abuse — it is a deliberate strategy to marginalise and silence.
Empirical economic research supports these qualitative testimonies. A rigorous study published in The Quarterly Journal of Economics found that women cohabiting with abusive partners see a measurable decline in labour market outcomes: lower employment rates, reduced earnings, and sustained financial suppression even years after leaving the relationship.
Coercive Control and the Prohibition of Work
In my case—and in the stories of many others—this played out in a very real, chilling way. My ex explicitly discouraged me from working, undermined my LinkedIn and blog presence, and presented my professional aspirations as a threat to his control. When I dared to send my CVs, I was met with rage. His world-view was binary: either I remain entirely dependent—or I am punished for my ambition.
This aligns with patterns documented in both research and clinical practice. Mental health professionals and counselling services emphasise that narcissistic partners often design hierarchical relationships, not true partnerships. The result? Emotional exhaustion, internalised self-doubt, and systemic suppression.
A Fatal Intersection: Religion, Identity, and Threat
In my story, the danger was not just psychological. My ex used religious identity—claiming protective networks, connections, and even a weapons licence—to intimidate, control, and isolate me. This is not just personal scandal; it is a manifestation of how power can be amplified in intimate settings when identity and ideology intertwine with abuse.
The Policy Argument: What Is Missing
• Structural Support: It is not enough to argue that “women should be pushed into work.” For many survivors, the barrier is not lack of desire — it is fear of death, threat, or reprisal. We need targeted support, legal protections, and therapeutic frameworks that specifically address economic coercion.
• Prevention & Education: Our public discourse should include awareness that not all economic inactivity is by choice. Narcissistic and coercive control often begin with undermining agency and escalate into full isolation.
• Institutional Accountability: Employers, hiring managers, and HR departments must understand that gaps in employment or “unusual career breaks” can indicate survival, not failure.
The Call to Action
This is not just a personal story — it’s a plea for systemic change. I ask:
• To policymakers: Why do we not have more robust legal recognition of economic abuse and coercive control in workplace protections?
• To social institutions: Why is there insufficient provision for women who have been financially and emotionally silenced by partners?
• To civil society: How can we better support those escaping narcissistic relationships — not only emotionally but professionally?
Freedom, in this context, is not simply about leaving. It is about rebuilding one’s agency, voice, and career. And for many women—like me—it is about proving, daily, that autonomy is not a crime.
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