Fear of change vs fear for our lives

Black History Month reflections from Dawn Munroe, Director of Bambuuu, a by-and-for service in Nottingham and Derby dedicated to supporting survivors of domestic abuse from minoritised backgrounds. 

Too often, when we talk about domestic abuse, the truth of Black and Brown women’s lives gets lost. We are labelled “disengaged” because people do not understand how we seek help. Our experiences are flattened into statistics that hide more than they reveal, because we have not been included. The reality is simple: the systems that should keep us safe are more afraid of change than they are of the consequences of doing nothing. 

This is what I have learned as a survivor, a practitioner, and now a Director of Bambuuu, a by-and-for service set up in 2020 to support Black and Brown women experiencing or recovering from domestic abuse. 

Routes into help

Fear of change vs fear for our lives. Why protecting power often overrules protecting people, and how to flip it. 

If we prioritise comfort over equity, we leave survivors behind. As a survivor and now a Director, I know how often Black and Brown women are failed by the very systems designed to protect them. Too many referral pathways exhaust women with repeated disclosures to police, health, schools and housing before they are finally believed or receive support. Some of us are not risk assessed appropriately, if at all. For minoritised survivors, those barriers multiply: racism, immigration control, cultural stigma, and fear of racial trauma when seeking help. 

SafeLives’ research on small and specialist services is clear: by-and-for expertise must be built into Marac and wider multi-agency safeguarding systems as essential expertise, not as an afterthought. Doing so improves recognition of coercive control, immigration-linked risks and cultural context, and leads to safer plans for survivors who are too often missed. 

The truth is this: fear of change vs fear for our lives. When survivors face the fear of speaking out, services must face the fear of change. Without by-and-for voices at the table, risks are misinterpreted, and safety plans fall short. 

Equity

Fear of change vs fear for our lives. Why protecting comfort often overrules protecting equity, and how to flip it. 

When we prioritise equity over comfort, survivors are finally seen and heard. When Bambuuu was first born, we were dismissed as a “pop-up”, despite my years of experience as a child protection social worker, Women’s Aid manager and sector leader. It was as if people were scared of what we represented, to the point they seemed genuinely shaken. 

We were told, “we cannot fund you”. The irony is we never asked for funding. We set up during Covid because Black and Brown women were at greater risk, locked out of mainstream services and facing racialised barriers. Our communities are not disengaged. Services have failed to engage with us in meaningful, trusting and culturally appropriate ways. Covid hit us harder, and still we were met with suspicion instead of solidarity. 

We are still here. And it baffles people. The truth is this: fear of change vs fear for our lives. Institutions fear the change that equity demands, but for us, change is survival. 

I am a powerful Black woman. When you tell me no, I shout yes. Equity means recognising that by-and-for services are not fragile or chaotic. We are vital infrastructure, built to last. My vision is simple: a future where all women are free, all women can access services, and all women feel cared for. 

Recovery and future leadership 

Fear of change vs fear for our lives. Why protecting the future means building equity now. 

When we sustain equity, survivors do not just survive, they thrive. Recovery is not linear. Like the bamboo tree, it may take years to break the surface, but when it does, it grows strong and fast. For Black survivors, healing is more than leaving abuse; it is about dignity, safety and being met with cultural understanding. That is why Bambuuu offers support for as long as it takes. 

I know the barriers intimately. I have survived the family court process three times. Those experiences were harrowing, but they gave me a voice that now features in training videos for Cafcass. I have presented to a large room of their DA Champions. I have spoken publicly at conferences, including Adira’s annual conference on mental health in the Black community. Survivors should not have to endure systems that retraumatise, but when we do, we use that truth to demand change. 

The truth is this: fear of change vs fear for our lives. Survivors turn fear into fuel for leadership. We honour the past by widening the pipeline behind us. Leadership is not just about me. It is about who I am making space for: the mothers who have moved from surviving to thriving, and the young businesswomen who are sharing their truths through If I Were a Stat.