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Scottish Sun
12-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scottish Sun
‘I felt like I had acid being poured inside my head' reveals Louise Thompson as she shares crippling health battle
Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) LOUISE Thompson has revealed that she felt like acid was being poured inside her head as she shared her crippling health battle. The Made in Chelsea star has opened up about what her depression anxiety and PTSD were really like after she nearly died in labour. 6 Louise Thompson has revealed that she felt like acid was being poured inside her head as she shared her crippling health battle. Credit: TikTok 6 Louise shared photos on Instagram of the moment she met son Leo for the first time' in hospital – pictured with her partner Ryan Libbey Credit: Refer to Caption 6 Louise has said she would just hope the world could be less judgemental Credit: Instagram Speaking on TikTok on the He Said, She said podcast, Louise said: "I don't know if this feels a bit unfair but I would love for everybody in the whole world. "To spend one day with severe depression and one day with debilitating anxiety or PTSD. "Just so that people could have that perspective and so that they could, would have a lot more compassion for people that have struggled with those diseases." Louise continued: "The crazy thing about, you know, depression is that it feels very physical. "It's not always just thoughts, it's not always just the mental. "There are really excruciating physical symptoms and I used to feel like I had acid being poured into my head. "And I think if everybody kind of knew what that felt like, then the world would be a much less judgemental place." Last month, Louise revealed heart breaking news of her miscarriage in an emotional post, two years after the traumatic birth of her son. Louise shares son Leo, three, with fiancé Ryan Libbey, after the couple welcomed him on November 16, 2021. She posted a photo of a positive pregnancy test, and said: "It's crazy to think that Leo could have had a sibling born last September. Watch as Louise Thompson breaks down in tears live on her podcast as she claims she's 'burnt out' "I doubt that it was ever going to work. Probably a mere chemical pregnancy. "Whatever it was the change in hormones or blood flow to that area caused the most insane amount of bleeding from my bum in the weeks that followed and ended up having my stoma surgery as a result. So capiche. That was the end of that dream. "My fertility and our fertility journey is something I'm only just starting to wrap my head around 3 1/2 years after the birth of my beautiful son. "There is a lot I haven't come to terms with, and I haven't wanted to until now. I remember my therapist asking me about it a few years ago and she asked whether I was sad about my situation and I just brushed it off. Help for mental health If you, or anyone you know, needs help dealing with mental health problems, the following organisations provide support. The following are free to contact and confidential: Samaritans, 116 123 CALM (the leading movement against suicide in men) 0800 585 858 Papyrus (prevention of young suicide) 0800 068 41 41 Shout (for support of all mental health) text 85258 to start a conversation Mind, provide information about types of mental health problems and where to get help for them. Call the infoline on 0300 123 3393 (UK landline calls are charged at local rates, and charges from mobile phones will vary). YoungMinds run a free, confidential parents helpline on 0808 802 5544 for parents or carers worried about how a child or young person is feeling or behaving. The website has a chat option too. Rethink Mental Illness, gives advice and information service offers practical advice on a wide range of topics such as The Mental Health Act, social care, welfare benefits, and carers rights. Use its website or call 0300 5000 927 (calls are charged at your local rate). Heads Together, is the a mental health initiative spearheaded by The Royal Foundation of The Prince and Princess of Wales. "It was all way to soon to start thinking about the idea of more anything when I had so much fixing to do. "But I actually remembered to mention it in a medical appointment last week and it kind of brought about this flood of emotions and it felt quite necessary and quite good. I need to get it out now." Louise was flooded with messages of support from fans, after her heartbreaking news. It comes after she said she'd "never have the perfect family," after opening up on her secondary infertility. Despite dreams of having four children, the condition means the inability to conceive or carry a baby to term after previously giving birth. Louise wrote in You Magazine: "I could feel something bigger than a party looming over me: the fact that I will never have the 'perfect family' I always thought I would. "Nothing emphasises the passing of time like your child's birthday, and I can't deny that when I look around at other friends popping out countless children, it hits home that this is not a reality for us. "I always imagined I'd have four children. I loved the idea of a big family with lots of noise and different personalities. "People said it would be hard work, but I liked the idea of each sibling bringing up the one behind them. I wanted to be like the Von Trapps. This will never be my life. "I used to believe that if you work hard enough you can achieve anything, but that's not true: I will never be able to go back and fix what happened to me. "There will always be a sadness that I won't experience childbirth again. That sadness is a part of who I am now and I need to learn how to take it forward into the rest of my life." Sadly, Louise ended up in hospital after writing her thoughts about her health ordeal. She was rushed in for emergency surgery 11 months after her stoma bag operation - leaving her fiance Ryan "broken". Louise, had her entire large intestine removed after being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis. She was fitted with a stoma bag following years of living with the condition, which causes the colon and rectum to become inflamed. It came after she nearly lost her life during the birth of her son Leo in 2021, which left her with post-traumatic stress disorder. Louise has bravely revealed all about her traumatic childbirth in her new book, Lucky. 6 Louise had a traumatic experience with the birth of her son Leo Credit: Instagram 6 Louise is very close to her brother Sam who is also her neighbour Credit: Instagram
The Irish Sun
12-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Irish Sun
‘I felt like I had acid being poured inside my head' reveals Louise Thompson as she shares crippling health battle
LOUISE Thompson has revealed that she felt like acid was being poured inside her head as she shared her crippling health battle. The Made in Chelsea star has opened up about what her depression anxiety and PTSD were really like after she nearly died in labour. Advertisement 6 Louise Thompson has revealed that she felt like acid was being poured inside her head as she shared her crippling health battle. Credit: TikTok 6 Louise shared photos on Instagram of the moment she met son Leo for the first time' in hospital – pictured with her partner Ryan Libbey Credit: Refer to Caption 6 Louise has said she would just hope the world could be less judgemental Credit: Instagram Speaking on TikTok on the He Said, She said podcast, Louise said: "I don't know if this feels a bit unfair but I would love for everybody in the whole world. "To spend one day with severe depression and one day with debilitating anxiety or PTSD. "Just so that people could have that perspective and so that they could, would have a lot more compassion for people that have struggled with those diseases." Advertisement Made in Chelsea "It's not always just thoughts, it's not always just the mental. "There are really excruciating physical symptoms and I used to feel like I had acid being poured into my head. "And I think if everybody kind of knew what that felt like, then the world would be a much less judgemental place." Last month, Louise revealed Advertisement Most read in Celebrity Latest , three, with fiancé , after the couple . She posted a photo of a positive pregnancy test, and said: "It's crazy to think that Leo could have had a sibling born last September. Watch as Louise Thompson breaks down in tears live on her podcast as she claims she's 'burnt out' "I doubt that it was ever going to work. Probably a mere chemical pregnancy. "Whatever it was the change in hormones or blood flow to that area caused the most insane amount of bleeding from my bum in the weeks that followed and ended up having my stoma surgery as a result. So capiche. That was the end of that dream. Advertisement "My fertility and our fertility journey is something I'm only just starting to wrap my head around 3 1/2 years after the birth of my beautiful son. "There is a lot I haven't come to terms with, and I haven't wanted to until now. I remember my therapist asking me about it a few years ago and she asked whether I was sad about my situation and I just brushed it off. Help for mental health If you, or anyone you know, needs help dealing with mental health problems, the following organisations provide support. The following are free to contact and confidential: Samaritans, CALM (the leading movement against suicide in men) Papyrus (prevention of young suicide) Shout (for support of all mental health) Mind, Rethink Mental Illness, Heads Together, "It was all way to soon to start thinking about the idea of more anything when I had so much fixing to do. "But I actually remembered to mention it in a medical appointment last week and it kind of brought about this flood of emotions and it felt quite necessary and quite good. I need to get it out now." Louise was flooded with messages of support from fans, after her heartbreaking news . Advertisement It comes after she said she'd "never have the perfect family," Despite dreams of having four children, Louise wrote in "Nothing emphasises the passing of time like your child's birthday, and I can't deny that when I look around at other friends popping out countless children, it hits home that this is not a reality for us. Advertisement "I always imagined I'd have four children. I loved the idea of a big family with lots of noise and different personalities. "People said it would be hard work, but I liked the idea of each sibling bringing up the one behind them. I wanted to be like the Von Trapps. This will never be my life. "I used to believe that if you work hard enough you can achieve anything, but that's not true: I will never be able to go back and fix what happened to me. "There will always be a sadness that I won't experience childbirth again. That sadness is a part of who I am now and I need to learn how to take it forward into the rest of my life." Advertisement Sadly, Louise ended up in hospital after writing her thoughts about her health ordeal. She was rushed in for She was Advertisement It came after she during the birth of her in 2021, which left her with Louise has bravely revealed all about her traumatic childbirth in her 6 Louise had a traumatic experience with the birth of her son Leo Credit: Instagram 6 Louise is very close to her brother Sam who is also her neighbour Credit: Instagram Advertisement 6 Louise and her family celebrating her birthday by going out for dinner Credit: samthompsonuk/Instagram
The Independent
30-04-2025
- The Independent
Child abduction laws are meant to protect domestic abuse survivors – but put them in danger
'Why didn't you just leave?' – it's a question almost every survivor of domestic abuse has faced. As a barrister, I've represented countless women who fled to other countries with their children, desperate to escape violent and controlling partners. But leaving is never the end of the story. For many, it marks the beginning of a new battle – one fought not just against their abuser, but within the very legal systems meant to protect them. Escaping abuse is one of the most dangerous times for women and children, especially when perpetrators know how to weaponise the law to regain control. I can tell you exactly how this scenario usually plays out: the mother, along with her children, is likely to be ordered by the High Court to board a plane and return to the reach of her abuser. More often than not, she ends up back in the same country, sometimes the same town, and in the most harrowing cases, even under his roof – all of it sanctioned by the court. You might be wondering – how is this possible? It all starts with the 1980 Hague Convention – an outdated piece of legislation, created with the laudable aim of protecting children from international abduction and preventing wrongful removal by abusive parents. But, in reality, it is often turned against survivors of domestic abuse, particularly mothers, who flee across borders with their children in search of safety. Violent ex-partners use the Convention to bring cases in the High Court, demanding the immediate return of the child, and they're often granted free legal representation through legal aid. Meanwhile, the mothers – fighting to avoid returning to a country many describe as a 'prison' – are dragged through exhausting, high-stakes proceedings that can last months or even years, with no guarantee of free representation. I will never forget representing Lisa – a case I recount anonymously in my new book, He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma, and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court. After years of physical, emotional and psychological abuse, Lisa fled Australia with her child and returned to Britain, seeking the safety and support of her family. She believed she was doing what any mother would do: protecting her child. But, instead of being seen as a survivor who needed protection, Lisa was branded a child abductor – a criminal under the law. The legal system didn't recognise the violent family home Lisa was escaping. Instead, she faced the terrifying prospect of being ordered back to the same country – and even the same street – as her abuser. In Hague Convention cases, the default is to return the child unless the parent can meet the near-impossible threshold of proving 'grave risk' or an 'intolerable situation'. Rape, abuse and coercive control are too often dismissed as insignificant and treated as someone else's problem – not Britain's, not the court's. Lisa collapsed in court, sobbing and struggling to breathe as the judgment was read. Her panic wasn't unusual – it was the raw, human reaction to a system that prioritises procedure over protection. The High Court accepted her ex-partner's promises: he said he would drop the criminal charges, withdraw his custody claim, offer her rent-free accommodation, and provide maintenance so she could get back on her feet. He lied. And the law did nothing to stop him. Back in Australia, Lisa was arrested on arrival. She became entangled in both family and criminal proceedings, her immigration status uncertain, and her worst fear looming – losing her child for good. There was no accountability for the judge who ordered her return. No consequence for the abuser who manipulated the legal system to regain control. Just another mother failed by a system that should have protected her. And yet, sometimes the impossible is achieved. In one case detailed in my book, I represented Julia, a mother whose experience of abuse was so severe that the judge, Paul Bowen KC, recognised the link between domestic abuse and the real risk of a victim's death – whether at the hands of the perpetrator or by suicide. It was a rare moment of clarity and courage in a legal system that too often looks the other way. I had feared the worst after hearing a psychiatric expert who gave cautious evidence, suggesting Julia might have an adjustment disorder if the abuse was proven, while dismissing the possibility of post-traumatic stress. The expert's lack of a trauma-informed approach was, in my opinion, deeply concerning. Far too often, survivors are subjected to court-appointed experts who pathologise them, not to understand or support their trauma, but simply to prove that returning to their abuser's country would cause harm. But the harm should be self-evident. No mother abandons her home, possessions, job, friends and family – leaving with nothing but a passport and her child – unless she is utterly desperate. And yet, judges continue to place faith in foreign legal systems to protect returning mothers and children, even when those very systems have already failed them. The Hague Convention assumes all jurisdictions offer equal protection, but for survivors, legal safeguards vary wildly, and access is anything but guaranteed. This treaty, written over 40 years ago, urgently needs rewriting – or countries should begin withdrawing from a framework that breaches international obligations to protect victims from domestic abuse. The Convention was never built to handle the complexity of coercive control or the lived realities of survivors. It rests on the false assumption that both parents stand on equal footing, with equal intentions. And while it claims to protect children, it too often delivers them – and their mothers – back into harm's way. Dr Charlotte Proudman is a barrister specialising in violence against women and girls and a senior research associate at Jesus College, Cambridge. Her book, He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court, is out on 1 May 2025 – read an extract from it here
Yahoo
17-04-2025
- Yahoo
‘I was a marked woman': Meet Britain's most controversial barrister
Charlotte Proudman likes to rattle cages. A barrister specialising in family law and domestic abuse cases, she has won several awards, including Woman of the Year at the Women and Diversity in Law Awards last month, in recognition of her campaign to make the Garrick Club open its doors to women. And she has made a lot of headway in the family courts, challenging legislation that discriminates against women in cases of domestic abuse and parental custody, which she writes about in her new book, He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court. But Proudman, 36, has also had a lot of flack. Her constant battle against inequality and her fight for justice in the legal system has led to her being branded a Feminazi by the Daily Mail, and a lot worse ('a joke in legal circles', 'a c—t', an 'insufferable w—ker') by others in her profession. I meet Dr Proudman, as she is known (she has a PhD, in female genital mutilation law and policy), at Goldsmith Chambers at the Temple in London. I had been slightly disconcerted to see a photograph of her on her website, commissioned by King's College, Cambridge, where she did her doctorate between 2013 and 2017, posing in a long legal gown with a bare midriff, next to Ted, her cavapoo, on a chair, but here she is in person – composed, friendly and sympathetic, wearing chunky pearls and a black suit. The best possible riposte to all the contentiousness and criticism levelled against her is her recent victory in court. It was not a case that she was representing as a barrister – it was a case against her, brought by the Bar Standards Board (BSB). In March 2022, a judge named Jonathan Cohen ruled against her in a high-profile divorce case which involved allegations of coercive control, in which Proudman had been representing the wife. Proudman thought the judgment unfair, and took to Twitter (as it was then) to complain that the judge had not taken the issue of domestic abuse seriously. In a 14-thread tweet, she posted a summary of the judgment, and commented that 'this judgment has echoes of the 'boys' club' that still exists among men in powerful positions'. As a result, she was taken to a tribunal by the BSB, which – she claims in her book – had been looking for a test case to establish what barristers could and couldn't say on social media about judges and their judgments. It was completely unexpected, and she was terrified, she says. 'It could have been the end of my career.' In December 2024, after the BSB had pursued it relentlessly for three years, the case was finally dismissed. It was 'a clear instance of sex discrimination', Proudman said at the time. Does she mean if a man had done this they would not have held him to account? 'We know they wouldn't, because we had the comparators – male barristers who had said things about judges and nothing had happened to them. And they didn't just investigate me or give me a warning – they went full force, five charges. It's not insignificant. They really went for it. I do think it was very personal.' Proudman is now taking action against the BSB for discrimination. A senior KC, who does not want to be named, told me that he thought the BSB was entirely wrong to have brought the case, as did many of his colleagues. 'My sense is that there was almost no support at all for the BSB proceedings. Apart from anything else, we all think the BSB are f—king useless.' He says that opinions fell into different categories: 'A lot of people felt some sympathy for Charlotte, but also thought she had brought it on herself, because why did she need to say it publicly, even if it's true? It was asking for trouble. And there is a small group – like me – who thought that the proceedings were wholly wrong, and that the failure of the BSB/SRA [Solicitors Regulation Authority] to tackle the kind of abuse that Charlotte has received from other professionals over the years was also wrong.' Proudman is more philosophical about the abuse she gets these days, though she still finds it hard to take. 'I realise that it comes with the territory. I really struggle when it comes from colleagues.' She does get support from colleagues too, she says, but 'largely in private, because they don't want to speak publicly about it. The loudest voices are often very critical and nasty, and the supportive ones are the quiet ones – so it doesn't look very balanced.' It all stems back to an incident that happened 10 years ago, she believes: the LinkedIn incident. The writing was already on the wall when she started out. She was called to the bar in 2010, and was taken aback by 'the most male environment' she had ever encountered, especially after growing up in an all-female household and going to a university in which 60 per cent of the students were female (she originally got a degree in law and sociology at Keele University in 2009, followed by an MPhil in criminology at Queens' College, Cambridge, in 2011). At lunch with someone who had been assigned as her mentor, she was told, 'You've done really well to get here and get this far, but you'll never make it.' Subsequently, when she applied for work experience at a firm of solicitors, one of the partners suggested that, instead of submitting a CV, she should send a bikini picture instead. In 2015 she received a message in her inbox on LinkedIn, saying, 'Delighted to connect, I appreciate this is probably horrendously politically incorrect but that is a stunning picture!!! You definitely win the prize for the best Linked in [sic] picture I have ever seen…' It was from Alexander Carter-Silk, a senior partner at a London office of solicitors. Taken aback, Proudman replied saying that she found his message offensive as her use of LinkedIn was entirely for professional reasons and 'not to be approached about my physical appearance or to be objectified by sexist men'. Then she put a screenshot of the message she had received on Twitter, asking if anyone else had had similar approaches. She was immediately branded an attention seeker, though in fact the attention was instigated by Roll On Friday (a 'cheeky and irreverent' legal website) which retweeted her. From there it was picked up by the Daily Mail. 'Heaven help the poor man who actually tries to ask her out on a date, let alone try to get her into his bed,' wrote the ever sympathetic and sisterly Sarah Vine. 'He'd have better luck propositioning a porcupine.' Two days on the front page of the Mail 'set me up as target practice for the media. I was a marked woman.' Proudman is an only child who grew up in Leek, in Staffordshire. Her mother was a teacher, and a single parent – her father was an alcoholic who died in a car accident when he was drunk when Proudman was four. Her mother was a strong believer in education and ambitious for her daughter, and Proudman's achievements have been pioneering. Her particular speciality is in family law and domestic abuse. In He Said, She Said, she writes in detail about some of the cases she has been involved in, and one of the things she is most proud of is her work in the area of implementing FGM protection orders, together with Forward, a group of lawyers and FGM survivors. Proudman was also responsible for a change in the law at women's refuge centres, where previously, police were able to turn up in full uniform with court orders obtained by perpetrators that the women were fleeing from, which revealed their whereabouts and put the refuges in very difficult positions. On the day I interviewed her she was about to achieve another first, in a case where a woman she had represented whose original allegations of rape and domestic abuse had been dismissed 'in error' (which was reversed two years later) was given the legal right to talk publicly about her case. (The family courts used to be entirely secret, but recently have been open to reporting, after a two-year pilot. Previously, journalists could report what they witnessed in family courts but this will be the first time that a parent has made a successful application to speak out without having to go through the press.) In this case, the judge ruled that the woman's ex-partner, who had countered her accusations with his own – of 'parental alienation' – should have no contact with the child. Parental alienation is something that Proudman takes particular issue with. Its premise is that one parent has turned the child against the other, and it is often used by the estranged parent to get access to the children, or to overturn custody arrangements. It is not new, but has become increasingly weaponised in custody cases, and the reason it's so alarming to Proudman is the fact that allegations of parental alienation are certified by psychologists who are often unregulated. 'Parental alienation syndrome was first recognised by Richard Gardner, in the USA in the 1980s,' she says, and although it has been discredited in the States, 'it's made its way over here. It never used to be as prevalent as it is now – I see it in 98 per cent of the domestic abuse cases that I am involved in. 'It's a contentious label which is now a whole industry – you have a lobby of so-called experts, regulated and unregulated, who specialise in it and purport to diagnose it when they're instructed, which can result in a transfer of residence for the child.' Even if that means returning the child to the parent from whom they have been removed. 'This 'expert' will meet the parents and talk to the children and then offer their opinion in court. Sometimes they will try to pathologise with some sort of psychological condition – histrionic personality disorder is quite a common one we see mothers labelled with, though I certainly don't see fathers labelled with personality disorders. Then, if the experts have a veneer of legitimacy, the courts accept their opinion. 'In this country 'psychologist' is not a regulated title. And it's lucrative – if you win one [case] you get a name for yourself, and you're instructed in more cases, and that becomes your niche.' He Said, She Said details many of the cases in which she has acted to try to protect women in the family courts, and there are some horrific stories: the English girl, Lisa, who had escaped with her child from her abusive partner in Australia, and was ordered to return, even though she feared for her safety; Beth, who wanted another child but whose husband said she had to agree to certain 'conditions', including that she should 'entertain all sex requests – whenever and whatever – with a smile on my face and as a willing participant'; Mary, whose allegation of being raped and strangled by her ex-husband was disbelieved by a judge who, in part, deemed her 'too intelligent' to have allowed it to happen. Or Daria, who was ordered back to Sudan with her daughter, even though the 11-year-old was likely to be subjected to FGM, from which two of Daria's sisters had died. It must be distressing to lose cases, having exhausted all legal avenues. How does Proudman detach herself? 'I'm not sure that I do detach from them – I suppose that's why I'm the person I am. I'm a campaigner as well as a barrister, and that's why I've written the book. Many people – and I'm not criticising them, in some ways I'm quite envious – will finish a case and move on to the next, and that's it for them. But for me – especially if it goes wrong and I think the decision is unjust – I will rant and rave about it, and try everything to secure some sort of justice for these people. I will make it my mission.' She says in the book that she keeps going 'because misogyny and sexism are everywhere in the legal profession'. Does she get disillusioned? Is it mainly male judges she is referring to, or is it to do with a certain generation? Statistics suggest that diversity within the courts is slowly improving, she says, 'but it's at a glacial pace. Change is so incredibly slow. 'I think we probably have to recognise that the legal establishment is still very white, male and privileged. If you look at the Supreme Court, the Court of Appeal and the High Court, the vast majority of those sitting in really senior positions are white public school/Oxbridge-educated men who just don't have the same experience as many of the people in front of them – and I do think that you need a judiciary which reflects the society we live in, so they can understand some of their experiences and what people have been through.' 'There is a substantial 'old school' element,' says my anonymous source, the senior KC, 'who are not wholly unthinking, and I'm sure don't consider themselves misogynistic, but in fact inhabit a world steeped in sexism. They are perfectly happy for women to succeed, and recognise the value and merit of successful women colleagues, but they want them to do so within the established norms of the profession. What they don't like is those who want to do it on their own terms, which I think Charlotte Proudman represents: making a fuss, calling out behaviours, and drawing attention to the massive gender pay disparities. I think that there is a deep-seated defensiveness in the profession, which remains (white) male-dominated at senior levels. I also have a female colleague who feels that Charlotte is doing women no favours, because she is just picking fights. Everyone agrees that women should be treated fairly, but we would all much prefer it if they just quietly got on with the job, instead of bleating about the various insults, obstacles, aggressions etc with which they are confronted.' Which is not Proudman's style. Is she now a member of the Garrick? 'I wish! I'm still waiting for my invitation – it must have got lost in the post. I hope in time they will see it as a real benefit when they actually start opening their doors to more women, rather than the three or four or whatever it is now. I'd want to be a member in order to bring in other women, which is probably why they don't want me.' What advice might she give to aspiring female barristers? 'Just carry on even in the face of adversity – and never give up,' she says, and adds a quote from American lawyer and activist Florynce Kennedy, with which she ends her book: 'Rattle cages, make noise. Cause trouble.' (Hear, hear.) The following is an extract from He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court I squinted into the laptop screen to catch my first sight of my newest client. A pale, cautiously smiling face peered back. We were about to begin a conversation that had been long in the making. Florence was not the first client who had approached me directly to represent her, but she was undoubtedly the only one who'd had to fight in court to earn representation in the first place. Her legal battle against a situation she felt was fundamentally unjust had now been going on for several years. What made this all the more remarkable was that she was still just 15 years old. Florence had been put in this unconventional, unreasonable situation because, five years earlier, her father had obtained a court order saying that she should live with him. After her parents separated when she was eight, she had been living happily with her mother and having regular contact with her father. But because there were, as there often are, difficulties with a child being passed between two parents at odds with each other, the case ended up in court. As a result, Florence was ordered to move from living with the parent she chose to the one she had not. When her case crossed my desk in mid-2021, I was still unfamiliar with the approach her father had used to achieve this, though it would soon become a regular part of my work. I was about to learn about 'parental alienation', the allegation that one parent has turned the children against the other. Soon I would see the almost extraordinary power this can have in court: how a deceptively simple argument, dressed up as science and supported by carefully chosen experts, can be used to upend children's lives, persuading the court that they should live with the parent who was accused of being abusive in the first place. I was late to the party in a case whose history went back seven years to when her parents had separated. Initially, Florence had lived with her mother and had regular contact with her father. In the legal proceedings that began after contact broke down, the court found the father had been abusive on several occasions – he had slapped the mother and 'held Florence down and shouted at her when she had a tantrum'. Far from the case going against him, however, it was turning his way. As his own abusive behaviour was being established by the court, in parallel, the narrative of parental alienation was being established. A child psychiatrist interviewed Florence and gave evidence to the effect that the problems over contact had arisen 'because of the mother's distress and unresolved angry feelings about the breakdown of the relationship [which] was being communicated to Florence'. The judge picked up this thread and concluded that the mother 'was not giving Florence permission in an emotional sense' to have a relationship with her father. She ordered the contact arrangements to be reversed, and for Florence to live with her father. It was a classic example of how parental alienation can be used to flip a family dispute on its head. The father did not have custody of Florence and was found by the court to have been abusive to both her and the mother. Yet with the right expert in his corner, Dr Mark Berelowitz, he had been able to persuade the same judge that the mother was the real root of the problem and to rule that Florence should instead live with him. 'Parental alienation' was the silver bullet that allowed this man to override the objections of his child, and the reality of his former abuse, to get the court to rule in his favour. From the age of 12, Florence had been repeatedly trying to gain her own legal representation, with support from her maternal family, to make the case that she should live primarily with her mother. One judge had refused this, and another actually banned her from making these applications for two years. After the two-year prohibition had passed, she applied again and was rejected once more. Only when she appealed this to the High Court did a decision finally go her way. With Florence then nearing the age of 16, at which point her wishes could no longer legally be ignored, her father consented, and a judge granted the appeal. Now, finally, she had been granted the right to be independently represented and to put her case in front of a High Court judge, Mrs Justice Frances Judd. I argued that Florence being forced to live with her father did little good for their relationship, just as it was unfair to her and her mother. The guardian recommended that she alternate between parents on a weekly basis, which Florence's father supported. We argued that this would not reflect her wish to live primarily with her mother, and the judge ultimately agreed, ordering an arrangement that saw her granted this right for the majority of each month. As my career has gone on, I have increasingly seen parental alienation as a straw that fathers are keen to offer and which professionals are eager to clutch. That is despite the fact that parental alienation does not exist in any credible medical guidance, is not a recognised syndrome, or a condition that can be formally diagnosed. The UK's National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) has listed parental alienation syndrome as discredited. The Family Justice Council has also issued draft guidance on parental alienation, stating that instructed experts should be regulated and that 'parental alienation' is not a diagnosable condition or disorder. Yet, in my time as a family law barrister, I have seen it grow rather than diminish in significance. Academic research underlines quite how widespread a legal tactic this has become, weaponised against vulnerable women. In a University of Manchester study, published in September 2023, which assessed and interviewed 45 women who had been through family court proceedings in England after alleging domestic abuse, 39 had been accused of parental alienation. Those mothers described how allegations of alienation 'not only shifted the focus of proceedings once raised but also diminished and often completely sidelined the investigation of [domestic abuse] and child abuse'. Parental alienation is not just junk science and bad law. It is a symptom of how women are too often treated in the family justice system – pathologised, blamed and stripped of their rights. While it is true that one parent can negatively influence their children against the other, such cases are the exception. And they should always be matters of fact for the court to determine, not ones of spurious, quasi-medical diagnosis. Five years on from the original order that had taken her away from her mother, Florence had finally got what she had repeatedly asked for. But it had taken an unreasonable amount of struggling against the system for her to get there. Florence could never get back the years of her childhood she had lost with her mother or the time that she had dedicated to a personal legal battle that started when she was not yet a teenager. He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court, by Dr Charlotte Proudman (W&N, £20), is out on 1 May. Preorder now by clicking here Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Telegraph
17-04-2025
- Telegraph
‘I was a marked woman': Meet Britain's most controversial barrister
Charlotte Proudman likes to rattle cages. A barrister specialising in family law and domestic abuse cases, she has won several awards, including Woman of the Year at the Women and Diversity in Law Awards last month, in recognition of her campaign to make the Garrick Club open its doors to women. And she has made a lot of headway in the family courts, challenging legislation that discriminates against women in cases of domestic abuse and parental custody, which she writes about in her new book, He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court. But Proudman, 36, has also had a lot of flack. Her constant battle against inequality and her fight for justice in the legal system has led to her being branded a Feminazi by the Daily Mail, and a lot worse ('a joke in legal circles', 'a c—t ', an 'insufferable w—ker') by others in her profession. I meet Dr Proudman, as she is known (she has a PhD, in female genital mutilation law and policy), at Goldsmith Chambers at the Temple in London. I had been slightly disconcerted to see a photograph of her on her website, commissioned by King's College, Cambridge, where she did her doctorate between 2013 and 2017, posing in a long legal gown with a bare midriff, next to Ted, her cavapoo, on a chair, but here she is in person – composed, friendly and sympathetic, wearing chunky pearls and a black suit. The best possible riposte to all the contentiousness and criticism levelled against her is her recent victory in court. It was not a case that she was representing as a barrister – it was a case against her, brought by the Bar Standards Board (BSB). In March 2022, a judge named Jonathan Cohen ruled against her in a high-profile divorce case which involved allegations of coercive control, in which Proudman had been representing the wife. Proudman thought the judgment unfair, and took to Twitter (as it was then) to complain that the judge had not taken the issue of domestic abuse seriously. In a 14-thread tweet, she posted a summary of the judgment, and commented that 'this judgment has echoes of the 'boys' club' that still exists among men in powerful positions'. As a result, she was taken to a tribunal by the BSB, which – she claims in her book – had been looking for a test case to establish what barristers could and couldn't say on social media about judges and their judgments. It was completely unexpected, and she was terrified, she says. 'It could have been the end of my career.' In December 2024, after the BSB had pursued it relentlessly for three years, the case was finally dismissed. It was 'a clear instance of sex discrimination', Proudman said at the time. Does she mean if a man had done this they would not have held him to account? 'We know they wouldn't, because we had the comparators – male barristers who had said things about judges and nothing had happened to them. And they didn't just investigate me or give me a warning – they went full force, five charges. It's not insignificant. They really went for it. I do think it was very personal.' Proudman is now taking action against the BSB for discrimination. A senior KC, who does not want to be named, told me that he thought the BSB was entirely wrong to have brought the case, as did many of his colleagues. 'My sense is that there was almost no support at all for the BSB proceedings. Apart from anything else, we all think the BSB are f—king useless.' He says that opinions fell into different categories: 'A lot of people felt some sympathy for Charlotte, but also thought she had brought it on herself, because why did she need to say it publicly, even if it's true? It was asking for trouble. And there is a small group – like me – who thought that the proceedings were wholly wrong, and that the failure of the BSB/SRA [Solicitors Regulation Authority] to tackle the kind of abuse that Charlotte has received from other professionals over the years was also wrong.' Proudman is more philosophical about the abuse she gets these days, though she still finds it hard to take. 'I realise that it comes with the territory. I really struggle when it comes from colleagues.' She does get support from colleagues too, she says, but 'largely in private, because they don't want to speak publicly about it. The loudest voices are often very critical and nasty, and the supportive ones are the quiet ones – so it doesn't look very balanced.' It all stems back to an incident that happened 10 years ago, she believes: the LinkedIn incident. 'I was a marked woman' The writing was already on the wall when she started out. She was called to the bar in 2010, and was taken aback by 'the most male environment' she had ever encountered, especially after growing up in an all-female household and going to a university in which 60 per cent of the students were female (she originally got a degree in law and sociology at Keele University in 2009, followed by an MPhil in criminology at Queens' College, Cambridge, in 2011). At lunch with someone who had been assigned as her mentor, she was told, 'You've done really well to get here and get this far, but you'll never make it.' Subsequently, when she applied for work experience at a firm of solicitors, one of the partners suggested that, instead of submitting a CV, she should send a bikini picture instead. In 2015 she received a message in her inbox on LinkedIn, saying, 'Delighted to connect, I appreciate this is probably horrendously politically incorrect but that is a stunning picture!!! You definitely win the prize for the best Linked in [sic] picture I have ever seen…' It was from Alexander Carter-Silk, a senior partner at a London office of solicitors. Taken aback, Proudman replied saying that she found his message offensive as her use of LinkedIn was entirely for professional reasons and 'not to be approached about my physical appearance or to be objectified by sexist men'. Then she put a screenshot of the message she had received on Twitter, asking if anyone else had had similar approaches. She was immediately branded an attention seeker, though in fact the attention was instigated by Roll On Friday (a 'cheeky and irreverent' legal website) which retweeted her. From there it was picked up by the Daily Mail. 'Heaven help the poor man who actually tries to ask her out on a date, let alone try to get her into his bed,' wrote the ever sympathetic and sisterly Sarah Vine. 'He'd have better luck propositioning a porcupine.' Two days on the front page of the Mail 'set me up as target practice for the media. I was a marked woman.' Proudman is an only child who grew up in Leek, in Staffordshire. Her mother was a teacher, and a single parent – her father was an alcoholic who died in a car accident when he was drunk when Proudman was four. Her mother was a strong believer in education and ambitious for her daughter, and Proudman's achievements have been pioneering. Her particular speciality is in family law and domestic abuse. In He Said, She Said, she writes in detail about some of the cases she has been involved in, and one of the things she is most proud of is her work in the area of implementing FGM protection orders, together with Forward, a group of lawyers and FGM survivors. Proudman was also responsible for a change in the law at women's refuge centres, where previously, police were able to turn up in full uniform with court orders obtained by perpetrators that the women were fleeing from, which revealed their whereabouts and put the refuges in very difficult positions. On the day I interviewed her she was about to achieve another first, in a case where a woman she had represented whose original allegations of rape and domestic abuse had been dismissed 'in error' (which was reversed two years later) was given the legal right to talk publicly about her case. (The family courts used to be entirely secret, but recently have been open to reporting, after a two-year pilot. Previously, journalists could report what they witnessed in family courts but this will be the first time that a parent has made a successful application to speak out without having to go through the press.) In this case, the judge ruled that the woman's ex-partner, who had countered her accusations with his own – of 'parental alienation' – should have no contact with the child. Parental alienation is something that Proudman takes particular issue with. Its premise is that one parent has turned the child against the other, and it is often used by the estranged parent to get access to the children, or to overturn custody arrangements. It is not new, but has become increasingly weaponised in custody cases, and the reason it's so alarming to Proudman is the fact that allegations of parental alienation are certified by psychologists who are often unregulated. 'Parental alienation syndrome was first recognised by Richard Gardner, in the USA in the 1980s,' she says, and although it has been discredited in the States, 'it's made its way over here. It never used to be as prevalent as it is now – I see it in 98 per cent of the domestic abuse cases that I am involved in. 'It's a contentious label which is now a whole industry – you have a lobby of so-called experts, regulated and unregulated, who specialise in it and purport to diagnose it when they're instructed, which can result in a transfer of residence for the child.' Even if that means returning the child to the parent from whom they have been removed. 'This 'expert' will meet the parents and talk to the children and then offer their opinion in court. Sometimes they will try to pathologise with some sort of psychological condition – histrionic personality disorder is quite a common one we see mothers labelled with, though I certainly don't see fathers labelled with personality disorders. Then, if the experts have a veneer of legitimacy, the courts accept their opinion. 'In this country 'psychologist' is not a regulated title. And it's lucrative – if you win one [case] you get a name for yourself, and you're instructed in more cases, and that becomes your niche.' 'You need a judiciary which reflects the society we live in' He Said, She Said details many of the cases in which she has acted to try to protect women in the family courts, and there are some horrific stories: the English girl, Lisa, who had escaped with her child from her abusive partner in Australia, and was ordered to return, even though she feared for her safety; Beth, who wanted another child but whose husband said she had to agree to certain 'conditions', including that she should 'entertain all sex requests – whenever and whatever – with a smile on my face and as a willing participant'; Mary, whose allegation of being raped and strangled by her ex-husband was disbelieved by a judge who, in part, deemed her 'too intelligent' to have allowed it to happen. Or Daria, who was ordered back to Sudan with her daughter, even though the 11-year-old was likely to be subjected to FGM, from which two of Daria's sisters had died. It must be distressing to lose cases, having exhausted all legal avenues. How does Proudman detach herself? 'I'm not sure that I do detach from them – I suppose that's why I'm the person I am. I'm a campaigner as well as a barrister, and that's why I've written the book. Many people – and I'm not criticising them, in some ways I'm quite envious – will finish a case and move on to the next, and that's it for them. But for me – especially if it goes wrong and I think the decision is unjust – I will rant and rave about it, and try everything to secure some sort of justice for these people. I will make it my mission.' She says in the book that she keeps going 'because misogyny and sexism are everywhere in the legal profession'. Does she get disillusioned? Is it mainly male judges she is referring to, or is it to do with a certain generation? Statistics suggest that diversity within the courts is slowly improving, she says, 'but it's at a glacial pace. Change is so incredibly slow. 'I think we probably have to recognise that the legal establishment is still very white, male and privileged. If you look at the Supreme Court, the Court of Appeal and the High Court, the vast majority of those sitting in really senior positions are white public school/Oxbridge-educated men who just don't have the same experience as many of the people in front of them – and I do think that you need a judiciary which reflects the society we live in, so they can understand some of their experiences and what people have been through.' 'There is a substantial 'old school' element,' says my anonymous source, the senior KC, 'who are not wholly unthinking, and I'm sure don't consider themselves misogynistic, but in fact inhabit a world steeped in sexism. They are perfectly happy for women to succeed, and recognise the value and merit of successful women colleagues, but they want them to do so within the established norms of the profession. What they don't like is those who want to do it on their own terms, which I think Charlotte Proudman represents: making a fuss, calling out behaviours, and drawing attention to the massive gender pay disparities. I think that there is a deep-seated defensiveness in the profession, which remains (white) male-dominated at senior levels. I also have a female colleague who feels that Charlotte is doing women no favours, because she is just picking fights. Everyone agrees that women should be treated fairly, but we would all much prefer it if they just quietly got on with the job, instead of bleating about the various insults, obstacles, aggressions etc with which they are confronted.' Which is not Proudman's style. Is she now a member of the Garrick? 'I wish! I'm still waiting for my invitation – it must have got lost in the post. I hope in time they will see it as a real benefit when they actually start opening their doors to more women, rather than the three or four or whatever it is now. I'd want to be a member in order to bring in other women, which is probably why they don't want me.' What advice might she give to aspiring female barristers? 'Just carry on even in the face of adversity – and never give up,' she says, and adds a quote from American lawyer and activist Florynce Kennedy, with which she ends her book: 'Rattle cages, make noise. Cause trouble.' (Hear, hear.) The following is an extract from He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court The silver bullet I squinted into the laptop screen to catch my first sight of my newest client. A pale, cautiously smiling face peered back. We were about to begin a conversation that had been long in the making. Florence was not the first client who had approached me directly to represent her, but she was undoubtedly the only one who'd had to fight in court to earn representation in the first place. Her legal battle against a situation she felt was fundamentally unjust had now been going on for several years. What made this all the more remarkable was that she was still just 15 years old. Florence had been put in this unconventional, unreasonable situation because, five years earlier, her father had obtained a court order saying that she should live with him. After her parents separated when she was eight, she had been living happily with her mother and having regular contact with her father. But because there were, as there often are, difficulties with a child being passed between two parents at odds with each other, the case ended up in court. As a result, Florence was ordered to move from living with the parent she chose to the one she had not. When her case crossed my desk in mid-2021, I was still unfamiliar with the approach her father had used to achieve this, though it would soon become a regular part of my work. I was about to learn about 'parental alienation', the allegation that one parent has turned the children against the other. Soon I would see the almost extraordinary power this can have in court: how a deceptively simple argument, dressed up as science and supported by carefully chosen experts, can be used to upend children's lives, persuading the court that they should live with the parent who was accused of being abusive in the first place. I was late to the party in a case whose history went back seven years to when her parents had separated. Initially, Florence had lived with her mother and had regular contact with her father. In the legal proceedings that began after contact broke down, the court found the father had been abusive on several occasions – he had slapped the mother and 'held Florence down and shouted at her when she had a tantrum'. Far from the case going against him, however, it was turning his way. As his own abusive behaviour was being established by the court, in parallel, the narrative of parental alienation was being established. A child psychiatrist interviewed Florence and gave evidence to the effect that the problems over contact had arisen 'because of the mother's distress and unresolved angry feelings about the breakdown of the relationship [which] was being communicated to Florence'. The judge picked up this thread and concluded that the mother 'was not giving Florence permission in an emotional sense' to have a relationship with her father. She ordered the contact arrangements to be reversed, and for Florence to live with her father. It was a classic example of how parental alienation can be used to flip a family dispute on its head. The father did not have custody of Florence and was found by the court to have been abusive to both her and the mother. Yet with the right expert in his corner, Dr Mark Berelowitz, he had been able to persuade the same judge that the mother was the real root of the problem and to rule that Florence should instead live with him. 'Parental alienation' was the silver bullet that allowed this man to override the objections of his child, and the reality of his former abuse, to get the court to rule in his favour. My new book, He Said, She Said, covers a collection of real family court cases that reveal how the system protects some and fails too many. This book is my call to action for change. Out 1 May. Preorder now. 🔗 🔗 — Dr Charlotte Proudman (@DrProudman) March 20, 2025 From the age of 12, Florence had been repeatedly trying to gain her own legal representation, with support from her maternal family, to make the case that she should live primarily with her mother. One judge had refused this, and another actually banned her from making these applications for two years. After the two-year prohibition had passed, she applied again and was rejected once more. Only when she appealed this to the High Court did a decision finally go her way. With Florence then nearing the age of 16, at which point her wishes could no longer legally be ignored, her father consented, and a judge granted the appeal. Now, finally, she had been granted the right to be independently represented and to put her case in front of a High Court judge, Mrs Justice Frances Judd. I argued that Florence being forced to live with her father did little good for their relationship, just as it was unfair to her and her mother. The guardian recommended that she alternate between parents on a weekly basis, which Florence's father supported. We argued that this would not reflect her wish to live primarily with her mother, and the judge ultimately agreed, ordering an arrangement that saw her granted this right for the majority of each month. As my career has gone on, I have increasingly seen parental alienation as a straw that fathers are keen to offer and which professionals are eager to clutch. That is despite the fact that parental alienation does not exist in any credible medical guidance, is not a recognised syndrome, or a condition that can be formally diagnosed. The UK's National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) has listed parental alienation syndrome as discredited. The Family Justice Council has also issued draft guidance on parental alienation, stating that instructed experts should be regulated and that 'parental alienation' is not a diagnosable condition or disorder. Yet, in my time as a family law barrister, I have seen it grow rather than diminish in significance. Academic research underlines quite how widespread a legal tactic this has become, weaponised against vulnerable women. In a University of Manchester study, published in September 2023, which assessed and interviewed 45 women who had been through family court proceedings in England after alleging domestic abuse, 39 had been accused of parental alienation. Those mothers described how allegations of alienation 'not only shifted the focus of proceedings once raised but also diminished and often completely sidelined the investigation of [domestic abuse] and child abuse'. Parental alienation is not just junk science and bad law. It is a symptom of how women are too often treated in the family justice system – pathologised, blamed and stripped of their rights. While it is true that one parent can negatively influence their children against the other, such cases are the exception. And they should always be matters of fact for the court to determine, not ones of spurious, quasi-medical diagnosis. Five years on from the original order that had taken her away from her mother, Florence had finally got what she had repeatedly asked for. But it had taken an unreasonable amount of struggling against the system for her to get there. Florence could never get back the years of her childhood she had lost with her mother or the time that she had dedicated to a personal legal battle that started when she was not yet a teenager. He Said, She Said: Truth, Trauma and the Struggle for Justice in Family Court, by Dr Charlotte Proudman (W&N, £20), is out on 1 May. Preorder now by clicking here
