How to recognize the warning signs of abuse, understand the fears that keep victims silent, and find confidential support
Domestic abuse is a topic few people feel comfortable discussing, particularly in the Orthodox community, where shalom bayit is a deeply held ideal. Yet abuse exists in Jewish communities across all denominations at rates comparable to those of the general population, according to Shalom Task Force, an organization that works to prevent and address domestic violence in the North American Jewish community while promoting healthy, safe relationships and families. In 2025, its confidential support hotline fielded 1,818 calls and chats from individuals across 27 states.
The National Domestic Violence Hotline reports that 48.4% of women and 48.8% of men in the United States have experienced psychological aggression from a partner during their lifetime, while more than one in three women and more than one in four men have experienced physical violence and/or stalking by a partner.
Dr. Shoshannah Frydman has spent over two decades supporting survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, and other forms of gender-based violence in the Jewish community, including serving as the former CEO of Shalom Task Force. We spoke with Dr. Frydman about how individuals can recognize the warning signs of abuse in themselves and others, and what steps they can take to seek help.
When people hear the term “domestic abuse,” they often think of physical violence. What forms can abuse take, and what are some common misconceptions that prevent people from recognizing it?
A few years ago, I facilitated a support group for survivors of domestic violence within the Jewish community. I asked them what they wished their family and community understood about abuse. One of the most consistent things they said was this: abuse is not only about the bruises. It is a pattern of behaviors used to obtain power and control over another person — and it instills fear. That abuse can take many forms: emotional, psychological, financial, sexual, spiritual, and technological. It can look like a partner who controls every dollar you spend, monitors your phone, isolates you from your family, or uses your own faith as a weapon against you.
The most dangerous myth is, “if he or she didn’t hit me, it’s not really abuse.” That belief keeps so many people stuck in relationships. They minimize what’s happening, compare themselves to others, and decide they don’t deserve help because their situation isn’t “bad enough.” It is also deeply confusing — to the person experiencing it and to the people around them. But that’s exactly what the dynamic is designed to produce. When someone in a relationship consistently makes you feel small, afraid, or like you have to hide who you are, that is worth paying attention to.
I often use the word curious — we don’t need to diagnose or label, but we do want to stay curious about what is going on, and act on that curiosity by reaching out, telling someone, or getting support.
What are the warning signs that someone may be experiencing abuse, whether they are concerned about themselves or someone they care about?
In yourself, it often feels like a slow erosion rather than a single moment. You find yourself carefully editing what you say before you say it. You’re spending more energy managing your partner’s moods than actually living your own life. You’ve pulled back from friends, stopped doing things you loved — and when you try to trace when that happened, there’s no clear answer. It just… did.
When you’re worried about someone else, look for that same quiet disappearing. Are they less present at Shabbos meals and family gatherings? Do they seem anxious when their partner is nearby, or do they need to “check in” before making even small decisions? Sometimes the sign is simply that someone who used to be warm, opinionated, and fully themselves has become subdued. That feeling you get when something seems off — trust it. It is usually telling you something. And here too, I would say: stay curious. We don’t jump to label, but we do want to remain curious about what might be going on — in someone else, or in ourselves — and find safe ways of gently connecting them to support.
What factors make it difficult for victims to seek help, and are there unique challenges within the Orthodox community that can make coming forward especially complicated?
There are so many reasons people don’t come forward, and I want to say clearly: none of them are about weakness. Fear is enormous — fear of not being believed, fear of retaliation, fear of losing financial stability, fear of what this means for the children. And after years inside an abusive relationship, many people have been so worn down that they genuinely believe they are the problem. That is not a character flaw. That is the abuse working exactly as it was designed to.
The survivors I worked with also told me something else: one of the most significant barriers to getting help is the deep shame of feeling like you have failed — at your marriage, at your family, at your role in the community. In our world, that shame can be immobilizing.
In our community, there are additional layers. Shalom bayit is a genuine and beautiful value — and it can be weaponized. Victims are told, explicitly or implicitly, that seeking help is a betrayal of their family, their home, their faith. There are real fears about children’s shidduch prospects, about communal standing, about who knows whom. And for women, get refusal is its own category of terror — the very real possibility that leaving means being trapped in a different kind of limbo, unable to move forward halachically.
I have spent many years working with families navigating exactly these dynamics, and I want to be clear: these are not excuses or irrational fears. They are real. Which is precisely why the support has to come from people who understand this world from the inside — people who get it without the victims having to explain it.
If someone suspects they are being abused, or is concerned that a friend or family member may be in an abusive relationship, what practical steps can they take?
The first thing I always say is: talk to someone. A trusted friend, a therapist, a hotline advocate — someone who can help you begin to see your situation more clearly. Because abuse has a way of distorting your sense of what’s normal, what’s acceptable, what you deserve. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to be ready to leave. You just have to take one step.
Safety planning matters even before someone is ready to go. Knowing where your important documents are, having some access to funds, identifying one person you trust and can call — these things can make an enormous difference when the moment comes.
If you’re worried about someone else, please resist the urge to push them or issue ultimatums about leaving. That can backfire badly, and in some situations it can increase danger. Instead, say what you see. Say you love them. Say you’re not going anywhere. Keep the door open — because when they’re ready, they need to know that someone is on the other side of it.
Confidential, knowledgeable help exists. Shalom Task Force’s hotline — 888-883-2323 — is staffed by people who understand the halachic and communal dimensions of these situations. And that is true whether you are the person experiencing the abuse or a friend or family member who is worried about someone they love. You can call to get guidance on how to safely support someone. You don’t have to figure this out alone.
Shoshannah D. Frydman, PhD, LCSW, has spent over two decades working with survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, and gender-based violence in the Jewish community, including as the former CEO of Shalom Task Force. She made aliyah with her family to Jerusalem and now maintains a private practice working with gap year students and young adults navigating trauma, anxiety, and life transitions, and consults and teaches internationally.