Recently, Lili Pankotai sparked controversy on a show by suggesting that victims of domestic abuse can’t be seen as true victims because they have ways to ask for help. This statement ignited a fierce debate—and for good reason: such ideas not only misrepresent reality but also deepen the wounds that survivors already carry.
Behind this sentence lies a dangerous yet common narrative: that the victim is "responsible" for their situation because they don’t leave in time, don’t seek help, or because they "choose the wrong people." This mindset seriously distorts the truth. Domestic abuse isn’t a choice. It’s not weakness, and it’s not a lack of "common sense." It’s a complex web of emotional, psychological, and social factors (or the lack of support) that’s incredibly hard to break free from—especially when all you hear from the outside is that it’s your fault.
Abuse never starts with just one slap. Most often, it’s a slow, sneaky process where the abuser gradually breaks down the other person’s confidence, isolates them from friends and family, and convinces them they’re worthless without the abuser. This kind of manipulation isn’t flashy. There aren’t always bruises or shouting—often it’s quiet remarks, fear of the other’s mood swings, and the constant doubt that "maybe I am the problem."
When someone lives like this for months, years, or even decades, they’re not just fighting the abuser—they’re battling a distorted self-image, especially if they come from an environment where no one helped build their self-worth. Telling them "why don’t you just leave?" is like shouting to a drowning person from the shore, "why don’t you swim out?"
Lili Pankotai also claimed that victims often "seek out" abusive partners. It’s true that some women (and men) find themselves repeatedly in similar harmful relationships. But this isn’t a matter of choice. These repeating patterns often trace back to early trauma, childhood abuse, or neglect. If someone wasn’t taught what a safe, loving relationship looks like as a child, or if love was always tied to pain, control, or fear, it’s harder to recognize abuse signs as an adult. So, they are victims—not only of the abusive partner but also of earlier abuse.
Of course, some do manage to leave. They find strength somewhere, get help from someone, or reach a moment when they’re strong enough. But that doesn’t mean others don’t want to help themselves. In Hungary, asking for help isn’t as simple as it might seem from a comfy TV studio chair. A woman can’t just walk into a police station—she’s often not believed. Crisis centers aren’t easy to find overnight, and doctors don’t automatically refer patients to psychologists or protection services because the system isn’t prepared. Maybe it’s because we don’t prioritize it enough. After all, narratives like Pankotai’s imply that only certain people become victims because they "allow it."
The responsibility never lies with the victim. They are the ones who survive. Who try every day not to break. Who may have come to believe this is just how life is, trapped between shame, fear, and loneliness. Their situation can’t be solved with "good advice" or oversimplified judgments.
What’s truly needed is empathy, understanding, and quiet support. Because when someone finally dares to say, "I need help," they don’t need judgment—they need to know they’re not alone.
