“It is more difficult to leave now,there is nowhere to go”: Mapping structural barriers to GBV support for migrant women in Ireland

Analytical framework: mechanisms of racial neoliberal governance

To operationalise the concept of racial neoliberalism for the empirical analysis that follows, this article identifies three key mechanisms through which racialised governance takes shape: depoliticisation, responsibilisation, and invisibilisation. These mechanisms synthesise the insights of Goldberg (2009), Kapoor (2013), Hale (2005), and Aho (2017), translating broader theoretical arguments into analytically tractable processes observable across policy and institutional practices.

Depoliticisation refers to the reframing of structural inequalities as technical or managerial concerns rather than political questions rooted in racial capitalism, colonial legacies, or power asymmetries. As Goldberg (2009) notes, racial neoliberalism suppresses explicit discussions of racism in favour of ostensibly neutral narratives of efficiency, risk, and individual behaviour. In the governance of migrant women experiencing gender-based violence, depoliticisation is evident when policy documents privilege administrative fixes such as better coordination, improved data systems, enhanced “awareness”, while sidelining the racialised effects of immigration status, welfare conditionality, and housing precarity. This mechanism allows state institutions to address symptoms without confronting the structural conditions that produce vulnerability.

Responsibilisation shifts the burden of managing risk, safety, and integration onto individuals. Kapoor (2013) highlights how neoliberal frameworks recast social harms as consequences of cultural deficits or personal choices, legitimising narratives that pathologize communities rather than interrogating systemic injustice. In the Irish context, responsibilisation emerges when migrant women are expected to navigate complex legal processes, secure stable housing, or report abuse despite facing restrictive immigration regimes and limited institutional support. According to Hale (2005), neoliberal multiculturalism reinforces this logic by celebrating diversity rhetorically while demanding conformity to an idealised model of the self-sufficient, assimilated subject. This narrative not only obscures structural constraints but also undermines collective strategies grounded in solidarity or community mobilisation.

Invisibilisation denotes the discursive and institutional processes through which racialised harms are rendered marginal, exceptional, or administratively unseeable. Humanitarian framings often emphasise migrant women's vulnerability while simultaneously depoliticising the structural roots of their precarity. Aho's (2017) critique of “neoliberalocentrism” underscores the danger of reading these dynamics as novel rather than as continuations of longer histories of racialised dispossession and control. Invisibilisation also operates through data practices, fragmented service provision, and policy silos that fail to capture the specific experiences of migrant women, thereby limiting their visibility in public debate and policymaking.

Together, these mechanisms offer a conceptual toolkit for analysing how racial neoliberalism structures both the production and management of gender-based violence. They illuminate how racialised logics are embedded within ostensibly neutral systems, immigration, welfare, housing, and how these systems shape migrant women's agency, constraints, and survival strategies within the Irish context.

Ireland's migrant population and integration policy landscape

Ireland has undergone a profound demographic transformation since the late 1990s, evolving from a country of emigration to one of net immigration. By 2023, there were over 632,000 non-Irish nationals living in the country, representing nearly 12% of the total population (Central Statistics Office 2023). These migrants are highly diverse, including EU citizens, asylum seekers, refugees, and economic migrants from Africa, Asia, Eastern Europe, and beyond. Dublin, as Ireland's most diverse city, recorded migrant populations as high as 65% in some areas as early as 2011 (Dublin City Council, 2016).

Despite this diversity, Ireland's policy response has been inconsistent and at times reactive. The state's first coordinated approach emerged in the late 1990s with an interdepartmental working group on refugee integration, followed by the 2008 Migration Nation statement, which outlined principles of integration, anti-racism, and support for ethnic-led NGOs (Office of the Minister for Integration, 2008). The Migrant Integration Strategy 2017–2020, A Blueprint for the Future, marked Ireland's most comprehensive integration plan to date, setting out 76 actions across areas like education, employment, and citizenship.

However, critiques of these policies highlight a lack of measurable targets, limited engagement with migrant realities, and an absence of robust data to evaluate outcomes (Fahey et al., 2019). These shortcomings undermine effective integration, perpetuate exclusion, and fail to acknowledge the unique vulnerabilities of specific groups, especially migrant women. Moreover, Ireland's reliance on census data, collected only every 5 years, and the absence of a comprehensive migrant register mean large segments of the migrant population remain statistically invisible, limiting policymakers’ ability to design responsive and evidence-based interventions.

These policy shortcomings should also be understood within the wider context of European and international patterns. Ireland's migration laws and practices do not exist in isolation but are shaped by its obligations and opt-outs under EU agreements, including the Common European Asylum System and measures like the EU Pact on Migration and Asylum. While Ireland is not part of the Schengen Area, it is bound by EU border and security policies that prioritise deterrence and externalisation, which have been widely criticised for perpetuating restrictive, security-driven approaches to migration (Guild 2025). These dynamics influence Ireland's reliance on temporary protection schemes, its limited resettlement commitments, and the overall emphasis on control over integration, a pattern mirrored across many EU member states.

Legislative approaches to gender-based violence in Ireland

Ireland's legislative response to gender-based violence (GBV) has historically been fragmented. Prior to the 1980s, reforms were sparse. The Criminal Law (Rape) Act 1981 was a pivotal development, introducing Ireland's first statutory definition of rape, though limited to male-on-female intercourse, defining it narrowly as an act committed by a man against a woman: “A man commits rape if (a) he has unlawful sexual intercourse with a woman who at the time of intercourse does not consent to it […]” (Government of Ireland, 1981). Despite its limitations, particularly the gendered and heteronormative framing, this legislation introduced several important changes. These included raising the maximum penalty for indecent assault to 10 years, prohibiting the publication of information identifying the complainant or accused, and restricting the admissibility of the complainant's sexual history in court.

The Criminal Law (Rape) (Amendment) Act 1990 expanded the definition to include other forms of sexual assault and abolished the marital exemption, enabling prosecution of spousal rape and increasing the maximum sentence for rape to life imprisonment (Government of Ireland, 1990). The Domestic Violence Act 1996 provided protective measures for spouses and dependents, but it was not until the Domestic Violence Act 2018 that substantial reforms were introduced. The 2018 Act removed the requirement for cohabitation or formal relationships when applying for a barring order and instead recognised the relevance of intimate partnerships (Office of the Attorney General, 2018). It also introduced the offence of coercive control, defined as knowingly and persistently engaging in behaviour likely to cause serious emotional or psychological harm to a partner. This legal development was hailed by advocacy organisations as a long-overdue recognition of the non-physical dimensions of abuse (Women's Aid, 2018).

Migrant women, integration and the gendered dimensions of vulnerability

Migrant women in Ireland face heightened exposure to GBV due to intersecting factors including gender, ethnicity, and immigration status. Research shows that legal insecurity, fear of deportation, and limited awareness of rights or services not only increase vulnerability to abuse but also create significant barriers to reporting and seeking help (Adams and Campbell 2012). Economic dependency, often intensified by restrictive visa conditions that prohibit employment, creates further barriers (Reilly et al., 2021). Many migrant women rely on spousal visas, which can trap them in abusive relationships due to financial dependence. Isolation, stemming from separation from family and community networks, further compounds these risks and can be exploited by abusers (Block et al. 2022).

Service statistics reflect these patterns: Women's Aid (2022) reported that over a third of women accessing their one-to-one support services were migrants, yet linguistic and informational barriers, fear of authorities, and lack of culturally appropriate information likely mean many more remain uncounted and unsupported (ibid). Although effective integration policies could help reduce these vulnerabilities by enabling migrant women's participation in society, existing strategies, such as the Migrant Integration Strategy 2017–2020, fail to mention GBV explicitly or to centre migrant women's needs, acknowledging them only superficially (Reilly and Sahraoui, 2020).

Implementation gaps and the need for intersectionality

The disconnect between policy commitments and real-world outcomes is not unique to Ireland. Hughes (2017), in his study on the Global South, identifies implementation gaps, the shortfall between laws on paper and practices on the ground, as a global problem, emphasizing that inadequate monitoring and evaluation are central to these failures. This critique is equally relevant in the Irish context, where national and local strategies often fail to translate commitments into meaningful outcomes for migrant women experiencing GBV.

Ireland is now home to over 632,000 non-Irish nationals (Central Statistics Office 2023), yet national strategies have largely overlooked the specific needs of this diverse population. Policy approaches frequently lack an intersectional lens, which is essential to understanding and addressing the overlapping structures of oppression faced by migrant women. Stapleton et al. (2022), in their study of non-EU migrant women in Ireland, call for intersectionality to be embedded from the outset in policy design to effectively respond to the complex needs of a diverse society.

An intersectional approach is vital because it recognizes that individuals experience overlapping and interlocking forms of discrimination and disadvantage based on their combined social identities, such as gender, race, class, immigration status, and language ability (Crenshaw, 1991; Hankivsky and Christoffersen, 2008). These intersecting factors do not simply add up; rather, they interact to produce unique experiences of marginalisation and vulnerability. For migrant women affected by GBV, an intersectional perspective moves beyond viewing them solely as women or solely as migrants. It allows policymakers and practitioners to see how systemic racism, gendered expectations, restrictive immigration regimes, and socio-economic exclusion compound each other, creating specific barriers to safety and support.

Without intersectionality, policies tend to adopt a one-size-fits-all approach that overlooks the unique challenges migrant women face, leading to ineffective or even harmful interventions. Embedding intersectionality in policy design, implementation, and evaluation means actively considering how multiple systems of power and oppression intersect in migrant women's lives. This is critical for developing targeted responses that address not just immediate violence, but also the structural inequalities, such as poverty, insecure immigration status, and racism that sustain vulnerability to GBV. It also involves collaborating with migrant-led organisations, using disaggregated data to identify specific needs, and ensuring services are culturally and linguistically accessible.

One path forward lies in greater collaboration with migrant-led NGOs, which possess contextual knowledge and lived experience essential for informing policy meaningfully. These organisations can help ensure that government responses are both inclusive and responsive to the unique needs of migrant women. Ireland's evolving landscape of GBV and migrant integration policy reflects both progress and persistent gaps. While legal reforms, such as the recognition of coercive control, signal important strides, these gains remain unevenly distributed, particularly for migrant women.

Overlooked needs: migrants and ethnic minorities in Ireland's first national strategy on domestic and gender-based violence (2010–2014)

The First National Strategy on Domestic, Sexual, and Gender-Based Violence (DSGBV) ran from 2010 to 2014. It was launched by the then-Minister for Justice, Equality and Law Reform, Dermot Ahern, and coordinated by Cosc, an Irish word meaning “to prevent”, which was established in 2007 as the National Office for the Prevention of Domestic, Sexual and Gender-Based Violence. Cosc was tasked with leading the national response to DSGBV and was supported by a Strategy Oversight Committee, which was mandated to report biannually on the implementation and progress of the strategy.

While the strategy marked a significant step toward formalising a coordinated response to DSGBV in Ireland, policy analysis and subsequent reviews reveal key structural and conceptual limitations. One of the most frequently cited shortcomings was the weakness in data collection mechanisms, which hindered a robust assessment of the strategy's effectiveness. A 2021 audit commissioned by the Department of Justice, titled Domestic, Sexual and Gender-Based Violence: An Audit of Structures, consulted both governmental and non-governmental actors and echoed these concerns. The audit revealed that a mid-term review carried out by Cosc had identified deficiencies in political leadership, as well as strained relations between state institutions and NGOs. One point of contention was the ideological divide between gender-neutral and gender-specific approaches to violence prevention, which led some NGOs to withhold full endorsement of the strategy (Department of Justice, 2021).

Another mid-term review, this time undertaken by the Institute of Public Administration in preparation for the Second National Strategy, also noted that the lack of comprehensive data made it difficult to measure progress in a meaningful way (Department of Justice, 2021). These findings point to a broader issue in the strategy's design: a failure to develop measurable indicators and ensure inclusive, representative data collection practices.

In the strategy's foreword, then-Minister Dermot Ahern states that, “Domestic, sexual and gender-based violence are crimes that can occur in all social classes, all ethnic groups and cultures and among people of every educational background” (Department of Justice, Equality and Law Reform, 2010: 7). Despite this acknowledgement of the universal nature of DSGBV, the strategy does not substantively address how ethnic minorities or migrant communities may experience these forms of violence differently, nor does it outline actions specifically targeting their needs. Rather, references to ethnic minorities and migrants appear seldom and in broad statements such as: “the strategy recognises that domestic and sexual violence may be perpetrated against those with particular needs such as older people, young people, members of ethnic minorities, people with disabilities and members of the Traveller community…the implementation of actions will consider the specific needs of particular groups” (p. 21).

This formulation is problematic on multiple levels. First, it collapses a wide range of distinct social groups, each with their own unique vulnerabilities and systemic barriers, into a single, generic category. Second, it introduces a contradiction: while claiming to adopt a “mainstream approach” for the sake of consistency, the strategy also states it will take account of specific needs. However, it remains unclear how both goals can be pursued simultaneously without tailored, differentiated interventions. The grouping together of such diverse populations suggests a lack of nuanced understanding of intersectional vulnerabilities and risks undermining efforts to develop effective, inclusive policy responses.

The term “migrant” appears only seven times in the 120-page document. When migrants are mentioned, it is typically in relation to improving communication strategies, rather than in the context of substantive policy design or targeted intervention. For instance, under the strategy's objective to promote a culture of prevention, migrants are listed among “high-risk” groups that require targeted annual information campaigns. However, these references often lack detail and do not translate into actionable policy commitments.

The only direct inclusion of migrants in the strategy's Action Plan appears under Action 6.5, which vaguely states the need to “identify and promote suitable State service responses in relation to domestic and sexual violence for vulnerable groups which include migrants” (Department of Justice, Equality and Law Reform, 2010). The implementation structure for this action is notably underdeveloped, described simply as “no specific structure. Cosc to drive.” This weak institutional scaffolding raises significant concerns about the state's commitment to supporting migrants in the context of DSGBV, particularly in a period when Ireland was experiencing growing demographic diversity.

Crucially, the failure to address the lived realities of migrant populations not only reflects a policy gap but also a missed opportunity to advance an intersectional understanding of gender-based violence in Ireland. Instead, migrants are repeatedly mentioned alongside other marginalised groups, such as Travellers and people with disabilities, an approach that, while ostensibly inclusive, ultimately homogenises diverse experiences and needs. This pattern exemplifies the process of invisibilisation discussed earlier, wherein migrants are acknowledged in policy texts to signal inclusivity without committing to structural interventions that would address the systemic inequalities contributing to their heightened risk of GBV, and with little to no attention to their specific needs. This lack of attention to ethnic and cultural diversity undermined the strategy's stated goals of inclusivity and universal protection.

Invisible in the numbers: migrant women and the gaps in Ireland's Second National Strategy on Domestic and Gender-Based Violence (2016–2021)

Launched on January 20, 2016, by then-Minister for Justice and Equality Frances Fitzgerald, the Second National Strategy on Domestic, Sexual and Gender-Based Violence (DSGBV) set out a 5-year action plan that would run until 2021. Like its predecessor, the strategy was led by Cosc, the National Office for the Prevention of Domestic, Sexual and Gender-Based Violence. Building on earlier efforts, this second strategy aimed to improve societal responses to DSGBV and included three core objectives: changing social attitudes to reduce domestic and sexual violence, improving support services for survivors, and holding perpetrators accountable in pursuit of a safer Ireland.

In her foreword, Minister Fitzgerald called for a “whole-of-government” approach to address DSGBV. However, the strategy itself acknowledges that this is “easy to write and say” but significantly more difficult to realise. This recognition points to an underlying challenge in Irish DSGBV policy: while institutional buy-in may exist at a rhetorical level, translating it into coordinated, long-term interdepartmental action remains an ongoing struggle.

Compared to the more expansive First National Strategy, the Second Strategy is notably shorter and lacks the same level of detail. This is reflected not only in its presentation but also in the scope of its target populations. Migrants, for example, are mentioned only once in the entire document. The strategy states its aim to “develop appropriate, evidence-based, targeted interventions in domestic, sexual and gender-based violence in communities of particular vulnerability, including migrants, Roma and Traveller women and people with substance misuse difficulties” (Department of Justice and Equality, 2016). Responsibility for implementing these interventions was assigned to the HSE and Tusla.

While the First National Strategy, despite its shortcomings, made repeated references to migrants, the near-total absence of migrants in the Second Strategy represents a clear step backward in attention to this rapidly growing demographic. At the time, 535,475 non-Irish nationals were living in Ireland (Central Statistics Office 2017), yet their experiences were virtually invisible in national policy. This absence illustrates once again a process of invisibilisation, the racial neoliberal tendency to erase migrants’ presence in official discourse and avoid taking concrete action to address the systemic barriers they face. Civil society responses echoed these concerns. The National Women's Council of Ireland, in its feedback on the mid-term review, acknowledged positive elements such as awareness campaigns and the Domestic Violence Act 2018, but criticised persistent misconceptions about GBV in ethnic minority communities and highlighted gaps in legislative action on issues like technology-facilitated abuse, issues that disproportionately affect socially and digitally isolated migrant women (National Women's Council of Ireland, 2019).

The shortcomings of the strategy are also reflected in its implementation outcomes. As stated in the Third National Strategy, by the end of 2021 only 41% of the actions outlined in the Second Strategy had been completed (Department of Justice, 2022). This figure suggests not only a lack of capacity or political will, but also a deeper issue with how DSGBV policy priorities were defined, monitored, and resourced during this 5-year period.

Toward zero tolerance? migrant inclusion and the promise of Ireland's third national strategy on gender-based violence (2022–2026)

Launched in June 2022 by then-Minister for Justice Helen McEntee, the Third National Strategy on Domestic, Sexual and Gender-Based Violence (DSGBV) marked a renewed governmental commitment to tackling these pervasive issues. Framed around the ambitious goal of achieving zero tolerance, the strategy aligns with the four core pillars of the Istanbul Convention: Prevention, Protection, Prosecution, and Policy Coordination. With a more detailed and structured action plan than its predecessors, it is widely considered the most comprehensive strategy to date.

A major shift introduced by the Third Strategy is its emphasis on strengthened collaboration with non-governmental organisations. Unlike earlier strategies, where partnerships with civil society were inconsistent or strained, this iteration explicitly recognises the expertise of NGOs and frontline service providers in shaping effective responses. Additionally, the strategy introduced plans for a standalone state agency, established as Cuan in 2024, to oversee implementation and monitoring. This institutional innovation aims to ensure long-term accountability and strategic coherence across sectors addressing DSGBV.

One of the strategy's notable strengths is its explicit commitment to intersectionality. It acknowledges the need to examine how overlapping identities, including race, ethnicity, migration status, gender identity, and disability, intersect to shape people's experiences of violence and marginalisation. Unlike its predecessors, the Third Strategy mentions migrants prominently and early in the document, stating on the first page the importance of reflecting the lived experiences of diverse groups, “including migrants, Travellers and Roma, people with disabilities, and LGBTI + people.”

While this recognition represents a significant improvement, the strategy still tends to group migrants together with other marginalised communities rather than addressing their specific needs through tailored interventions. This risks repeating patterns from earlier strategies, where diverse cohorts with vastly different challenges were treated as a single policy category, a dynamic that can reflect racial neoliberalism, by recognising diversity rhetorically without committing to structural changes that address distinct barriers.

That said, the Third Strategy does introduce important steps toward meaningful inclusion of migrant communities. Under the “Awareness Raising” pillar, it commits to producing communication materials specifically targeted at migrant communities and reassuring undocumented migrants that they are fully protected under Irish law. This represents a critical development, as fear of deportation has long prevented undocumented migrant women experiencing GBV from seeking help. If implemented effectively, this commitment could enable more victims to report abuse without fear of immigration consequences.

The strategy also outlines plans to collaborate with specialist services to deliver education and prevention programmes for vulnerable groups, including migrants. The success of these initiatives will depend on whether services are adequately resourced and trained to engage with the unique linguistic, legal, and socio-cultural challenges migrant communities face. Without this, efforts to include migrants risk remaining symbolic rather than transformative. Another notable advancement is the establishment of a dedicated intersectionality and inclusivity advisory group, tasked with reviewing and advising on all interventions developed under the strategy to ensure they are inclusive and sensitive to diverse needs. Oversight of this process was transferred to Cuan, which now plays a key role in promoting inclusive practices across domestic, sexual, and gender-based violence interventions.

“We Need to Know They’re Safe”: Migrant Women, Gender-Based Violence, and the Gaps in Service Provision

Immigration Status

The issue of immigration status emerged as a primary theme across all interviews, underpinning many of the barriers migrant women face when seeking help. The Senior Project Support Officer from Amber Women's Refuge emphasised that fear around immigration status was both common and deeply rooted. Migrant women often feared not only for their own right to remain in the country, but also for the implications of reporting abuse on their partner's immigration status. This fear frequently led to inaction or withdrawal from services.

One practical intervention cited as helpful was the independent visa application process, which allows a woman experiencing domestic violence to separate her legal status from her abusive partner. However, the same Amber representative noted that while this visa has “been great for being able to change a woman's status,” the process is not well-known: “You would have to be linked in with a service to even know about it.” This indicates a critical information gap that may leave many women unaware of their rights or options.

This concern was echoed by the Immigrant Council of Ireland, which pointed out that even though the perpetrator is not notified when an application for an independent visa is made, many migrant women remain hesitant to proceed due to fears of retaliation or immigration consequences. The lack of clear and accessible information, particularly for those not already engaged with support services, compounds the problem.

The representative from Amal Women's Association confirmed how frequently immigration concerns arise: “It comes up all the time, especially if he brought her over as a spouse.” They illustrated the precarity of these situations through a case in which a woman's visa application process left her without income or entitlements. The woman's husband stopped paying maintenance, and without the right to work, she became entirely dependent on charitable donations. As the Amal representative noted, “getting the independent visa can be a long process with no income in the interim,” placing already-vulnerable women in extreme hardship. These cases illustrate a broader process of responsibilisation, as discussed in the theoretical framework, whereby migrant women are expected to independently navigate complex legal procedures, secure housing, and report abuse, even as they face restrictive immigration regimes and limited institutional support. Such expectations shift the burden of protection onto the individual, while the structural barriers that shape their vulnerability remain largely unaddressed. As a result, the effectiveness of existing measures is significantly undermined: although the challenges of immigration status and economic precarity are well known, they are rarely tackled in any substantive way by current state policies.

Housing, homelessness, and structural insecurity

A second major theme to emerge was the profound impact of Ireland's housing crisis on migrant women experiencing gender-based violence. The housing shortage exacerbates the difficulties faced by all survivors but particularly affects those with limited social supports or restricted access to public services, a category that often includes migrant women.

The Senior Project Officer from Amber Women's Refuge described the current housing situation as “the biggest barrier domestic abuse services are facing at the minute,” stating that “it is more frightening to go into homelessness services with children” and that “ultimately you’re going into a homeless service” after refuge stays. For many migrant women, the choice becomes one of remaining in an abusive relationship or entering a deeply inadequate housing system.

The migrant support worker at ADAPT highlighted the disproportionate time migrant women spend in homeless services due to limited entitlements. Some women “may not have entitlement to public services, such as homeless services,” which forces them to remain in unsafe environments due to the absence of alternatives. These findings mirror concerns expressed in academic literature on gendered vulnerabilities within housing systems and demonstrate how structural exclusion reinforces cycles of abuse.

The representative from Meath Women's Refuge similarly lamented that they could no longer offer direct transitions from refuge to private housing due to affordability and availability issues. As they put it: “That doesn’t happen now. That's a rare occurrence at this point.” The representative stressed that fear of entering the homeless system often leads women to return to abusive homes.

When asked about potential policy alternatives, the same representative welcomed the Third National Strategy's goal of removing abusers from homes rather than displacing women and children. Referencing the Northern Ireland model, where police can issue emergency protection orders on the spot, they asked: “It's just a shame, across the border like, they can do it. Why can’t we do it here?”

The representative from Amal Women's Association underscored the housing crisis as a persistent obstacle. Their organisation often attempts to obtain barring orders so that “women and children don’t go homeless,” but these are difficult to secure due to tenancy complications. When women do access refuge space, they face severe limitations: “After this, women are referred to a homeless service and that's where disaster happens.”

For many migrant women, the choice becomes one of remaining in an abusive relationship or entering a deeply inadequate and overstretched housing system. This stark reality reflects a wider logic of responsibilisation, in which women are implicitly expected to extract themselves from violent situations despite the absence of safe, accessible alternatives. Rather than addressing the structural conditions that limit housing access, state responses to DSGBV exist in the context of a significant housing crisis, therefore perpetuating a system that only offers limited protection. At the same time, this dynamic is reinforced by a process of depoliticisation, by which the structural drivers of migrant women's vulnerability (such as immigration status, economic constraints, and housing precarity) are acknowledged in official discourse, yet not always addressed through any sustained or holistic government strategy. Instead, policy efforts tend to focus on administrative improvements. While these measures have indeed some value, they do not substitute for deeper structural change. By framing exclusion as a set of technical or procedural challenges, rather than as the outcome of political decisions and embedded inequalities, institutions avoid confronting the racialised nature of these systems and the broader reforms needed to dismantle them.

Translation gaps and language-based exclusion

Language barriers and translation issues were cited by all interviewees as critical challenges for migrant women navigating Ireland's legal and social services. The Senior Project Officer from Amber described translation as a “lifesaving” part of service provision, particularly using Women's Aid phone services due to limited in-house resources. However, a key problem arises in legal contexts: migrant women cannot access a translator in court unless a judge determines they require one, meaning women must appear at least twice before a judge. This policy causes unnecessary delays and additional trauma for already-vulnerable survivors.

The Immigrant Council of Ireland added that the quality of translation services in Ireland is highly inconsistent. There is currently no mandatory qualification for interpreters, leading to variable standards. Additionally, interpreters often come from small diaspora communities, which can compromise confidentiality and increase women's fears of being identified. This compounds cultural and linguistic isolation and deters many women from reporting abuse or pursuing legal action.

Meath Women's Refuge noted similar patterns. Judges may sometimes accept family members as translators in early hearings, but the lack of professional interpreters can result in women being “sent home where translation wasn’t possible.” The representative also shared a rare positive development: their service had just received funding to translate materials into five languages, a step toward inclusivity, albeit long overdue.

The Amal Women's Association detailed multiple translation issues, including interpreters not showing up in court and problems with dialect mismatches. In the absence of alternatives, court staff sometimes asks NGO workers to interpret, which is inappropriate and unprofessional: “It's not really appropriate because we’re not qualified translators.” These limitations fundamentally undermine migrant women's ability to seek justice and access protection.

The impact of COVID-19 on visibility and access

While COVID-19 was not the primary focus of interviews, its lingering impact on service access and survivor visibility was repeatedly mentioned. According to the Immigrant Council of Ireland, there was a noticeable lag in service uptake following the pandemic, but demand eventually returned. The representative noted: “There was a slow start after COVID… people are presenting again at services.”

Amber Women's Refuge experienced a surge in need during the lockdown period, with requests for support doubling even as staffing declined. This placed immense pressure on the service and resulted in the inability to accommodate all women in need.

The representative from Meath Women's Refuge described COVID-19 as revealing the true extent of domestic violence in Irish society. With other forms of crime declining, the rise in reported gender-based violence became impossible to ignore. As they put it: “It was just really clear the extent of domestic and gender-based violence in homes during that period of time.”

Together, these interviews reveal a deep disconnect between national strategy and local reality. While Ireland's Third National Strategy on Domestic, Sexual and Gender-Based Violence represents an important step forward, particularly in its intersectional framing, real-world implementation remains fraught with barriers, especially for migrant women.

Whether due to opaque immigration processes, a collapsing housing sector, language-based exclusions, or inadequate translation infrastructure, the testimonies gathered here highlight persistent structural silences that continue to endanger survivors. As several interviewees stressed, awareness of legal and social rights is often limited to those already embedded in support systems. This leaves many migrant women isolated, uninformed, and unsupported.

There is an urgent need for stronger monitoring, coordination, and resourcing of frontline services to ensure that the ambitions of national strategy translate into meaningful change. Without these measures, the promise of “zero tolerance” will remain aspirational, particularly for those who need support the most. All these limitations are not simply oversights in service delivery, but manifestations of a deeper process of invisibilisation, in which the specific experiences and needs of migrant women are rendered peripheral to mainstream policy design. The absence of mandatory standards for interpreters, combined with the failure to account for the social dynamics within small diaspora communities, reflects a broader neglect of the structural and cultural barriers that uniquely affect migrant women. This is especially evident in the first two national reports, where migrant communities were either minimally referenced or addressed through vague, generic categories, leaving the particular challenges faced by migrant women effectively unacknowledged and unaddressed.