Natalie Fleet

I absolutely agree; the hon. Member makes very good points that I did not know about. The more we can talk about this issue, the better, and making it a stand-alone offence is absolutely the right thing to do. It is easy to dismiss Liv’s as a story of extreme wealth, power and faraway places, but the reason I raised it, and the reason it is so important, is that so many women will see this story as theirs. If we do an internet search about reproductive coercion, the stories are there. Liv has shared her story on social media, and women have commented underneath saying, “This happened to me.” Women are having their bodies controlled by men: some forced to get pregnant, others forced to have an abortion. Both are examples of reproductive coercion—deliberate attempts to dictate a woman’s reproductive choices or interfere with her reproductive autonomy. A recent poll of 1,000 women showed that 50%—half of them—had experienced some sort of reproductive coercion. It is happening to women we know, every day. A third of those women had felt pressured to have sex without contraception, 10% had had their contraception sabotaged and 15% had been forced to terminate a pregnancy that they wanted to keep. The principle of reproductive coercion is recognised in law. If someone knowingly passes on a sexually transmitted disease, it is assault. If a condom is removed without consent—known as stealthing—it is rape. However, that principle has not been applied in the Nervo case, and that case is not an isolated one. Reproductive coercion is always about patterns of controlling behaviour, not just one act, which is why there is inconsistency in the application of the law. If our courts are presented with clear evidence of coercive behaviour that has resulted in pregnancy, yet decline to recognise or name it, we are left with a gap not just in terminology, but in protection. Reproductive coercion is covered by both the Domestic Abuse Act 2021 and the Serious Crime Act 2015. Statutory guidance for the Domestic Abuse Act states that abuse within a family set-up can include “reproductive coercion (and as part of this, forced abortion).” According to the statutory guidance, reproductive coercion can involve “restricting a partner’s access to birth control…refusing to use a birth control method…deception regarding the use of birth control including falsely claiming to be using contraception…forcing a partner to get an abortion, IVF or other related procedure; or denying access to such procedures.” The Serious Crime Act details similar guidance and gives the same examples. The maximum penalty for the offence of controlling or coercive behaviour in an intimate or family relationship, including reproductive coercion, is five years in prison. In the year ending March 2025, nearly 50,000 cases of coercive control were recorded by police in England and Wales, yet reproductive coercion remains unprosecuted—not because it is not happening, but because the Crown Prosecution Service does not record that it is. The term reproductive coercion now exists in guidance and policy, but it has no clear home in law. What are we asking for? First, we want an acknowledgment that cases like Liv’s occur and need exposing in the public interest. As lawyers have said: “Legal reform in the area of sexual deception is not straightforward, either legally or in social terms. Indeed, the law is unlikely to move forward in a meaningful way until the wider public debate on such issues is also able to progress and mature.” That is not enough. We need the offence to be seen in the eyes of the law. While I have spoken about reproductive coercion being mentioned in the statutory guidance for two of our laws, in the CPS’s policy, in safeguarding manuals and in a few judgments, we want to see it given a place on the statute book. There needs to be a clear route for investigating it as a crime, charging offenders and protecting victims. The question before us is not whether reproductive coercion exists—we know that it does—but whether our systems are prepared to recognise it where there is evidence. When a condom is removed without consent, it is recognised as rape; when a disease is knowingly transmitted, it is assault; but when a woman is deliberately impregnated through deception and control, the abuse is not clearly named, prosecuted or safeguarded against. Liv has described reproductive coercion as our wombs being hijacked, our futures being derailed with our children ultimately the victims, and our nervous system and trust in the world shot. There are cases like Liv’s where the evidence is present, and yet it is still not being named. That must change. My ask of the Government is for clearer recognition of reproductive coercion in the law. We need greater awareness and training to ensure that coercive behaviours—particularly those involving deception and reproductive autonomy—are properly understood. We need to ensure that patterns of behaviour are examined, not dismissed, and that individuals who raise legitimate concerns are not penalised for doing so. No woman should hear the words, “I was going to tell you after you had the baby,” and have that dismissed as something that does not require recognition. Without recognition, coercion cannot be addressed. No change has ever happened via the state alone. As important as my previous asks were, my final ask is to women—women in the Public Gallery and women out there listening to this debate. If there is any element of what has been said today that is happening to you, reach out. You are not alone. You are surrounded by women going through exactly the same, not calling it out, feeling fear and shame, and feeling like they cannot speak. We regain control by speaking out and reaching out. That is how Liv and I connected in the first place. Liv and Mim got in touch after hearing me on “Woman’s Hour”. I remember that interview vividly. I thought I was going to faint beforehand. I hugged the show runner, and that gave me the strength to carry on. The presenter was so lovely, and I spoke up despite being full of fear and shame. That shame never belonged to me, but I needed to undo a lifetime of society telling me that it did. When I spoke up, women heard me—women I had never met or crossed paths with. I met them and found out that one of them had been traumatised in ways that I had never even thought of. They are now speaking out too, and that has power. Every time somebody speaks out about abuse—abuse that happens regularly, and abuse that happens equally as much but we have never heard of, as it is better hidden—we are heard by somebody who can support us or by women we have never even met who have been through the same or other forms of abuse that also need shouting about. For too long, we as women have been condemned to silence, and silence is where abuse thrives. If we instead use our voices, speak out and say, “This is not okay,” allow others to believe us and support us, and encourage survivors to come together—because nothing achieves change like an army of angry women—we can come together and force that much-needed change.