A Scoping Review on Intimate Partner Violence in Canada’s Immigrant Communities

Different perceptions and experiences of IPV

Most of the studies we analyzed highlighted the dearth of literature on immigrant women’s experiences with and perceptions of spousal abuse, especially when compared to the available literature on Canadian-born women experiences of IPV. Although similarities exist in how Canadian-born and immigrant women experience and perceive IPV, immigrant women appear to be more vulnerable to spousal abuse given the unique challenges that settling and adjusting to Canada present to them. Such challenges are often embedded in immigrant women’s processes of acculturation such as learning the language, laws, and rights of the host country; social isolation due to the physical distance away from their family, friends, and community; and nonrecognition of their educational credentials, which often limits their access to gainful employment and complicates IPV (Ahmad, Ali, & Stewart, 2005; George & Rashidi, 2014; Guruge & Humphreys, 2009; Nwosu, 2006; Thurston et al., 2013).

A number of studies argued that culturally specific investigations can help to identify and prevent IPV as well as inform the development of services adjusted to immigrant women’s unique cultural contexts. Undeniably, immigrant women from different countries are socialized with different norms, beliefs, ideologies, behaviors, and values. On this note, Mason et al. (2008) investigated whether or not abuse has, in fact, culturally specific meanings by examining how Sri Lankan Tamil women of different ages and stages in life living in Toronto define, understand, and experience IPV. This was the only study in our review that directly questioned the universality, cross-cultural relevance, and its inclusiveness of our operative, World Health Organization’s (WHO) definition of IPV (Breiding et al., 2015, p. 11). In contrast to others studies, Mason et al. (2008) found that Tamil women, regardless of their age and stage, “defined IPV [intimate partner violence] broadly and recognized it as rooted in power and control, where coercive control is expressed in different forms, including physically, sexually, psychologically, verbally, and financially” (p. 1407). Although their findings align with WHO’s nonculturally specific definition of IPV, they nonetheless observed cultural differences in the behavioral manifestations and interpretations of IPV. In this example, forms of psychological abuse had particular meanings to Tamil women in Toronto.

Similar to Mason et al. (2008), Barata, McNally, Sales, and Stewart (2005) found that Portuguese women defined wife abuse broadly and recognized various forms of abusive behaviors as abuse, thereby further confirming the applicability of the WHO’s definition of IPV across different cultures. The Portuguese women in this study, however, expanded this definition by characterizing as IPV some behaviors that are not typically perceived or reported as abusive, such as viewing women as second-class citizens, expecting women to obey male partners and male authorities in their lives, and leaving the burden of household tasks to women. Notably, many standardized scales for assessing IPV do not usually include these more subtle forms of abuse. Barata et al. (2005) called these forms of abuse patriarchal abuse and suggested that educational programs on IPV in the Portuguese community should incorporate these behaviors in their conceptualization of abuse. Their study also identified differences in the perception of abuse between first-generation and second-generation Portuguese immigrant women; the former was less likely to label an abusive behavior as abuse and more likely to approve of abuse. They also held stronger patriarchal beliefs, compared to the latter.

Ahmad, Riaz, Barata, and Stewart (2004) were equally interested in immigrant women’s perceptions and definitions of IPV. They examined the influences patriarchal beliefs have on South Asian immigrant women’s perceptions and definitions of IPV and also found that South Asian immigrant women who hold strong patriarchal beliefs were less likely to recognize many forms or aspects of spousal abuse. Based on their findings, Ahmad et al. (2004) suggested that community education should address this ambiguity around the definitions of abuse among South Asian immigrants. In a more recent study, Ahmad, Smylie, Omand, Cyriac, and O’Campo (2017) found that South Asian men and women “expanded the concept of controlling behaviors compared to their multi-ethnic counterparts” (p. 64) by including items such as forcing one to work, blocking one’s access to health-care providers, or imposing religious beliefs. These findings underscore the stance in most of the studies reviewed—namely that men’s and women’s social positions as individuals and/or within groups could determine how they view the public versus private nature of abuse.

In their study on Tamil immigrant women in Toronto, Hyman et al. (2006c) further challenged the adequacy of current definitions of IPV. Women of different ages and stages in life, they noted, used their own parameters to define IPV and decided by themselves which abusive behaviors they were willing to tolerate. For example, Tamil immigrant women’s willingness to tolerate abusive behaviors depended on the severity of IPV, whether the violence was mutual or not, and whether the women felt that the act of violence against them was justified.

Despite the fact that some immigrant women may define IPV broadly, recognize its rootedness in power and control, and identify various abusive behaviors as problematic, differences undoubtedly exist. As our review demonstrates, several immigrant women view certain behaviors that may be considered normal as abuse, while others did not acknowledge some behaviors that are commonly recognized as abuse in Canada. Differences in immigrant women’s perceptions of and experiences with IPV depend not only on their cultural backgrounds and systemic factors but also on their individual situations. These experiences and perceptions can vary with age, educational status, household income, and activity limitation (Du Mont et al., 2012) as well as with length of stay in Canada (Barata, McNally, Sales, & Stewart, 2005; Du Mont et al., 2012; Hyman, Forte, Du Mont, Romans, & Cohen, 2006a). It is important to note that these denials, normalizations, and minimizations of IPV experiences by women are common patterns that are also reflected in the literature on nonimmigrant women. These responses to IPV are a core part of how women view, interpret, and navigate the experience, including the associated risks, especially for those who remain in abusive relationships.

All studies, either explicitly or inexplicitly, warned against homogenizing immigrant women’s perceptions of or experiences with abuse. Moghissi and Goodman (1999) as well as Ahmad et al. (2017) acknowledged that culture is by no means static and instead continuously develops and changes. Lucknauth (2014) further suggested that “each woman [is]…uniquely positioned and serve[s] as a reminder of the complex realities lived by immigrant women experiencing intimate partner abuse” (p. 87). The findings of the reviewed studies highlight the need to be familiar with and to be aware of the differences that exist among immigrant women’s perceptions of and experiences with IPV in Canada. This appreciation of diversity could help scholars and practitioners to understand immigrant women’s diverse and distinct responses to and strategies of coping with IPV. It also appears to explain and justify why the majority of the reviewed studies focused on one specific culture rather than on researching cross-culturally.

Different responses to and coping with IPV

Immigrant women across different cultures not only vary in their perceptions of and experiences with IPV, they also respond to and cope with abuse differently (Ahmad, Rai, Petrovic, Erickson, & Stewart, 2013), especially compared to Canadian-born women. Takano (2006), for example, found that Japanese immigrant women, compared to Canadian-born women, tend to choose the well-being of their families over their own personal interests and therefore rely on more reflective and internally focused coping strategies than on problem-focused and confrontational ones. Similarly, Kanagaratnam et al. (2012) revealed that Tamil immigrant women also preferred passive/emotion-focused over active/problem-focused coping strategies. In order to deal with their abusive situations, they blamed themselves, relied on faith or religious beliefs, distracted themselves from dwelling on the abuse, normalized the abuse, and/or avoided certain situations or conditions that could lead to abuse. Only if the abusive situation escalated would Tamil immigrant women consider more active approaches as appropriate strategies. Again, these conceptualizations of and responses to IPV are commonly shared patterns that most women who suffer abuse, immigrant and nonimmigrant women alike, can relate to.

In contrast to emotion-focused coping, which refers to behaviors that help individuals to mitigate their psychological distress and reduce negative outcomes, active, problem-focused coping include externally directed behaviors that aim to change the environment that causes distress (Kanagaratnam et al., 2012). Getting a separation or accessing formal support services are examples of problem-focused coping strategies in dealing with IPV. As several of the reviewed studies revealed, many immigrant women, however, are reluctant to use problem-focused approaches and tend to avoid disclosure. Based on their findings of studying South Asian immigrant women’s help-seeking activities, Ahmad, Driver, McNally, and Stewart (2009) argued that “reasons against disclosure and help-seeking seemed to be linked to the intertwined contextual factors of immigration and the socio-cultural norms, in particular patriarchy and elements of collectivism and familism” (p. 619). Indeed, fear of being stigmatized by the community, holding onto patriarchal beliefs, blaming oneself for not being able to preserve family integrity, believing that children should grow up with two parents, and believing that marriage is a lifelong commitment are some of the sociocultural aspects that hinder immigrant women across diverse cultures from leaving their abusive spouses or from accessing formal support services (Kanagaratnam et al., 2012; Souto, Guruge, Merighi, & de Jesus, 2016a; Takano, 2006).

Gagnon and Stewart (2014) further suggested that abused immigrant women, due to their immigration statuses, often have fewer coping strategies available to them than Canadian-born women when faced with IPV. In contrast to immigrant women, Canadian-born women generally are perceived as having more power, more resources, and most importantly, they do not need to fear deportation. In their studies, Lucknauth (2014), Singh (2010), and Alaggia, Regehr, and Rishchynski (2009) particularly focused on the impacts of systemic and structural factors on abused immigrant women’s responses to IPV and their help-seeking strategies. Similar to other studies, Singh (2010) found that immigrant women are hesitant to disclose their experiences of abuse to persons unknown to them and rarely contact agencies or the police in a crisis situation, especially when they are aware of mandatory charging.

The mandatory removal of abusive partners from households is, indeed, problematic, as it does not correspond with immigrant women’s distinct situations. While some immigrant women do not want to leave their abusive husbands based on, among other factors, their cultural values and beliefs (Souto et al., Guruge, Merighi, & de Jesus, 2016a, 2016b; Takano, 2006), others simply cannot leave their spouses for economic reasons or due to citizenship requirements (Alaggia, Regehr, & Rishchynski, 2009; Lucknauth, 2014; Thurston et al., 2013). As Alaggia et al. (2009) pointed out, immigrant women who are sponsored by their partners depend on them and often have no other choice than to stay in their abusive relationships and use internally based coping strategies to deal with their situations.

In addition to cultural and structural factors, immigrant women’s approaches to dealing with their abusive situations depend on their individual cognitive abilities. Ahmad et al. (2009), for example, found that individual characteristics such as level of education, age, income, housing, and English fluency can impact immigrant women’s help-seeking activities and their willingness to talk to professionals. In her study, Lucknauth (2014) described immigrant women as active agents and found that the choices of action vary from woman to woman, depending on each woman’s individual circumstances.

Furthermore, Lucknauth identified a variety of short- and long-term strategies that her research participants used both to protect themselves from and to resist or challenge their abusive situations. Short-term solutions are immediate responses to IPV and include shielding oneself from physical attacks, seeking refuge in another room, avoiding escalations, and physically fighting back. The Guyanese women in Lucknauth’s study employed these short-term strategies to survive on a daily basis. In contrast, long-term solutions often were accompanied by experiencing a turning point, assessing consequences, making decisions about how to handle the situation, and creating plans after the decisions have been made. Lucknauth (2014) infers that “as women decided how to handle their abusive situations in the long-term, whether through divorce proceedings, restraining orders, or separation, they also had to develop long-term plans to continue living independently” (p. 100).

In conclusion, our review demonstrates that immigrant women survivors tend to use emotion-focused coping methods rather than problem-focused coping strategies to deal with IPV. Instead of accessing formal support services, immigrant women often reach out initially to friends, family members, relatives, coworkers, and other trusted individuals. When these informal support channels fail, they turn to silence or more drastic measures such as harming themselves or attempting suicide (Ahmad, Driver, McNally, & Stewart, 2009; Lucknauth, 2014; Singh, 2010; Takano, 2006). Although some immigrant women identified remaining silent as strength, this strategy appeared to intensify the violence as their abusive partners took advantage of their vulnerable state (Ahmad et al., 2009). Furthermore, if friends, family members, relatives, and/or church and community leaders do not acknowledge an abusive situation or appear to prioritize the maintenance of marriage at all costs due to cultural or religious beliefs, then immigrant women’s resolve to end their abusive situations are further eroded.

Our review reveals that immigrant women’s recourse to emotion-focused strategies, including their reluctance to access formal help, has primarily to do with the failure of services and policies to provide adequate assistance that corresponds with their specific situations. To effectively help immigrant women who have histories of abuse, policies and services need to value immigrant women’s diverse and creative responses to IPV, recognize them as legitimate strategies, and generally adjust and expand the commonly used definition and idea of coping. In other words, service providers need to acknowledge immigrant female survivors as active knowers of their own situations and trust their decision-making processes (Lucknauth, 2014). Consequently, it is important to develop culturally appropriate preventive or intervention strategies, since many immigrant women deal with IPV differently than Canadian-born women. Moreover, local communities should also be better informed about IPV and should play a key role in building safety nets around women and children, rather than stigmatizing families with known IPV. In the following section, we discuss in more detail the inadequacy of contemporary services and policies. Furthermore, we bring to light some solutions and recommendations as they emerge from our review.

Inadequate services and policies for immigrant women survivors

As noted in the Method section, we had to scale down the scope of our study due to the sparsity of relevant policy documents. Documents collected by the research team during the study suggest that, at the national level, Canada has very few policies that explicitly address the unique challenges that IPV poses to immigrants and refugees. The Department of Justice (2013), the Canadian Parliamentary Standing Committee on Citizenship and Immigration (2015), and the Canadian Centre for Justice Statistics (2016) all recently produced documents addressing the problem of family violence in Canada; however, only the Canadian Parliamentary Standing Committee on Citizenship and Immigration created a document that provides actual policies for working with immigrant and refugee families experiencing domestic violence. Further, only a few provinces—notably British Columbia (e.g., Safety of Immigrant Refugee and Non-Status Women Project, 2013) and Ontario (e.g., Ontario Council of Agencies Serving Immigrants, 2006)—have made some in roads, albeit limited, at designing policy guidelines for service providers working with immigrant and minority communities.

As we mentioned earlier, the development of adequate services that meet immigrant women survivors’ needs is strongly tied to knowing and understanding the differences in how they experience and cope with IPV. The majority of the reviewed studies noted that immigrant women’s coping strategies differ from Canadian-born women and occasionally among immigrant women from different cultural backgrounds. Limited knowledge on these issues can only lead to inefficient and inappropriate services. For example, in providing care and support to survivors of IPV, health-care professionals and social workers consider divorce or separation a valid solution that ensures the survivor’s safety. Getting a divorce or separating, however, does not necessarily align with immigrant women’s needs or realities. In some circumstances, immigrant women may want to rebuild their lives together with abusive partners. Many nonimmigrant women survivors also resort to this option. Consequently, in their study on Portuguese-speaking immigrant women, Souto, Guruge, Merighi, and de Jesus (2016a) concluded that service providers should support survivors by empowering them in their decision-making processes rather than imposing solutions that do not meet survivors’ needs.

Dealing with IPV and providing support and counseling to women survivors of abuse, our review noted, can be difficult. As Stuckless et al. (2015) argued, women survivors often have only two choices: staying with or leaving their abusive partners. Both choices, however, are challenging. Leaving the abusive partner can translate into a significant loss of economic security or disparagement by community and family members, while staying in the abusive relationship can lead to loss of self-esteem, physical and emotional pain, as well as humiliation. Stuckless et al. (2015) further found that “failure of a support system before and/or after a woman leaves an abusive relationship can force the woman and her children to either remain with or return to the abusive spouse” (p. 56). Struckless et al. recommend that current support systems be improved and adjusted to avoid such a dilemma. As Thurston et al. (2013), among other studies, revealed, immigrant women survivors were most successful in leaving their abusive situations permanently when culturally competent services were in place to support them. Being culturally competent includes having an understanding of individual survivors’ experiences and reflecting this diversity in services provided, particularly in the case of non-English speakers.

Furthermore, some studies suggested offering additional training to health-care practitioners and judges in handling IPV among immigrant women. They also call for more funds for shelters and the development of stronger community support systems by educating family, friends, and church and community leaders that can help victims to break through the cycle of abuse. In line with these recommendations, Takano (2006) supports the development of culturally specific transition homes for immigrant women survivors to reduce their stress and anxiety and to implement treatments geared toward the abusive partners and/or both parties in order to improve their relationships if they want to stay with one another. Takano also felt that immigrant women survivors should be enabled to establish a sense of self/identity and independence from their group/community (but without separating them from or denying their sense of belonging to a group/community) as one way to encourage them to seek formal support. Thurston et al. (2013) further found that there is a need for effective coordination between different service providers so that they can identify cracks in the system and competently provide care for immigrant women survivors.

As we mentioned earlier, immigrant women are often reluctant to involve the police because they fear the potential adverse consequences of mandatory spouse arrest policies. Singh’s (2010) study questioned criminal justice interventions that are designed to protect women survivors, arguing that as long as mandatory charging exists, immigrant women will never be able to receive the support they require to end or cope with their abuse. Tenuous immigration statuses can also provide a challenge. Although a range of health-care services related to IPV are available to women, immigrant women survivors may find it difficult to access these services due to language barriers, confidentiality concerns, and discriminatory and racist practices (Guruge, Roche, & Catallo, 2012). Responding to the identified issues could significantly increase immigrant women survivors’ willingness to access formal support services.

In addition to culturally inadequate services, the current immigration laws and policies are problematic, since they provide a foundation that perpetuates and spurs abusive behavior. For instance, Alaggia et al. (2009) study revealed that immigrant women who are sponsored by their partners may condone IPV due to interpersonal, sociocultural, legal, and structural reasons. This conundrum leaves women and children trapped in abusive relationships. Furthermore, a sponsorship breakdown on humanitarian and compassionate grounds is another unrealistic option for many immigrant women who were originally sponsored through the family class mainly because they will be required to provide legitimate proof of the abuse, such as police reports or medical records. In the face of many challenges that daily life presents, immigrant women are often not able to keep such records. Immigration laws and policies therefore continue to be problematic and further increase immigrant women’s vulnerability to IPV.

Community organizations are also critical in supporting immigrant women survivors (Singh, 2010). As we pointed out earlier, immigrant women survivors may consult informal support systems such as friends, relatives, and church and community leaders first before accessing formal supports. Informal systems, however, are barely involved in the development of strategies to assist immigrant women to deal with abusive situations. Some community-based advocates, however, have started to work on strategies that bypass police and the judicial system, such as increasing the capacity of immigrant communities to handle individual cases, implementing leadership development programs, engaging local faith leaders, and encouraging public shaming/naming rituals (Singh, 2010).

The tendency to pathologize immigrant women and immigrant communities

Many of the studies we reviewed made insinuations, overt and subtle, that locate the causes and occurrences of IPV in immigrants’ cultural backgrounds. By doing so, they suggested that IPV is traceable to non-Western forms of patriarchies, gender norms, and gender roles that immigrants bring to their new host societies. For example, Nwosu (2006), who conducted research on Nigerian Canadian women, argued that there is an ideological clash between Western values and immigrants’ traditional upbringing that can lead to physical or verbal abuse of Nigerian Canadian women by their partners. She further suggested that men in Nigeria are unquestionably accepted as authority figures whose status and power cannot be challenged for any reason. Men who tenaciously hold onto this traditional mind-set in the postmigration context, according to Nwosu, often respond to any perceived challenges to their socially constructed authority with violence.

Other immigrant groups, however, present their own, yet similar, scenarios that subtly suggest that culture is the main culprit in IPV. For instance, Barata et al.’s (2005) study of different generations of Portuguese women appears to lean toward this interpretation by considering perceptions of wife abuse to be dynamic and responsive to change from generation to generation. To Barata et al. (2005), one prevention strategy might be to engage second-generation women who are more familiar with Western cultural values as role models and educators within communities. They also recommend prevention strategies that incorporate diverse ways of dealing with abuse alongside attempts to initiate outside intervention.

On a different note, Brownridge and Halli’s (2002) secondary analyses of Statistics Canada’s 1999 survey on victimization (General Social Survey [GSS] 1999) showed that IPV is more prevalent among immigrant women from developing countries than Canadian-born women. Their measures of prevalence among immigrant populations were, in part, based on male sexual proprietariness (men’s tendency to use violence to control their intimate female partners). They also found that immigrant women who have been in Canada the longest (immigrated before 1965) are much less vulnerable to IPV compared to their counterparts in more recent immigrant cohorts. Consequently, Brownridge and Halli suggested that educating men, especially those from developing countries, about the rights and roles of women in Canada could enhance measures aimed at combating IPV.

Gagnon and Stewart’s (2014) study on women who experience IPV during pregnancy showed that Canadian-born women are in a better position to deploy more effective coping strategies than immigrant women because, as mentioned earlier, they have more economic, social, and emotional support. Additionally, Moghissi and Goodman (1999) identified a perceived difference in how men and women deal with IPV; women were found to be better equipped to handle IPV than men. Compared to men, women also tend to cast a more positive spin on IPV as a part of life’s challenges. Moghissi and Goodman pay particular attention to the various forms of structural and institutional violence that reinforce IPV with respect to women’s and men’s experiences of and capacity to deal with displacement or dislocation. They argued that IPV should be conceptualized as a political and social issue that is not only grounded in patriarchy but also mediated by systemic violence that men and women experience on a daily basis. Consequently, the focus should rest on both the challenges immigrant women face and the difficulties immigrant men encounter—such as adjusting to significant shifts in gender relations within the family and to system-wide social inequities—as possible explanations of their culpability for IPV.

In her study, Lucknauth (2014) argued that both immigrants’ traditional norms, beliefs, and values, and the host country’s discriminatory laws and racist practices are stressors that can lead to or spur the occurrence of IPV in immigrant families. Lucknauth (2014) not only challenged the definition of “the victim,” she also acknowledged the tendency to pathologize immigrant communities and addressed its consequences. Moghissi and Goodman (1999) emphasized the importance of exploring aspects of immigrants’ lives before migration. On a similar note, Singh (2010) warned against “culturalized” explanations of violence, as they can perpetuate the image of the oppressed, non-Western woman. Along the same lines, Guruge and Humphreys (2009) argue that changing structure and recomposition of networks in migration could mediate gender relations and in turn IPV. Before migration, both women and men have access to their natal families, but as husbands and their family members often come first, women lose their families and friends, a network that can act as a buffer against stress, conflicts, and abuse and can provide support, advice, and resources to deal with IPV.

Immigrant women’s rates of reporting IPV to the police and using social services, according to Hyman, Forte, Du Mont, Romans, and Cohen (2006b), differ based on their length of stay in Canada. For instance, “compared with their non-recent immigrant counterparts, recent immigrant women were more likely to report violence to the police and were less likely to use social services” (p. 689). Hyman et al. (2006b) conclude that IPV remains a hidden issue for both immigrant and nonimmigrant women since the majority of Canadians also disclose IPV to informal sources rather than to the police or use social services. However, the studies we reviewed broadly confirmed the existence of cultural barriers that prevent help seeking and raise questions about the adequacy of current understandings of IPV. As some of the studies suggested, women use their own parameters to define what IPV means to them and to decide which abusive behaviors they may tolerate. Furthermore, it is not merely the originating culture’s beliefs and ways of life that block individuals’ paths toward more egalitarian relationships between men and women; exclusionary and inferiorizing practices in the host country need to be considered as we try to understand the occurrence of gender-based violence in postmigration contexts (Moghissi & Goodman, 1999).

Expand research populations and research setting

Through our review, it became clear that many of the reviewed studies conducted their research within the GTA. Furthermore, a large number of studies specifically focused on South Asian immigrant women within the GTA. As Ahmad et al. (2013) pointed out, Canada has become more ethnically diverse since 1967 due to changes in its immigration policies—namely, the implementation of a points-based system and the removal of preferential support to immigrants from Europe. Furthermore, “the year of 1996 was a milestone when more than half of the total immigrants in Canada reported non-European origin and a majority came from Asia with China and India as the top two source countries” (Ahmad et al., 2013, p. 1058). Similarly, George and Rashidi (2014) mentioned that “South Asians are one of the fastest-growing ethno-racial groups in Canada” (p. 67), especially in the GTA. In 2011, the Peel region of the GTA counted 1.3 million “residents of whom 50% were immigrants. Of the immigrants, 25% were S[outh] A[sian]” (Ahmad et al., 2013, p. 1058).

The large number of South Asian immigrants who live in the GTA certainly justifies the heightened focus on this population in this specific area. Furthermore, most of the research teams (often constituted of the same individuals) of our reviewed studies are based in Toronto and used their data multiple times, analyzing it from slightly different perspective. Such an approach is valuable as it brings to the surface various concerns without having to collect new data. We nonetheless argue that it is important to conduct further research on this topic within other Canadian contexts. As our reviewed studies pointed out and demonstrated, Toronto is a metropolitan city that offers a variety of structural support, including accessible public transportation and culturally specific organizations, agencies, and services. Other cities or rural communities may not have those same advantages. Conducting research on other cities therefore is necessary in order to identify difficulties or challenges in supporting immigrant survivors of abuse that Toronto, being Canada’s largest city, may not have. Additionally, a comparison across distinct settings, similar to the attempt of Thurston et al. (2013), may generate valuable knowledge that can help to understand the experiences of immigrant women survivors and their help-seeking activities Canada wide.

Furthermore, South Asia is itself a diverse region that includes a variety of countries such as India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Bhutan, Maldives, Sri Lanka, and Afghanistan. Although several of the reviewed studies (Guruge & Humphreys, 2009; Guruge et al., 2012; Hyman et al., 2006c, 2011; Kanagaratnam et al., 2012; Mason et al., 2008) particularly focused on Sri Lankan Tamil women, other studies (Ahmad et al., 2004, 2009, 2013, 2017; George & Rashidi, 2014; Madden et al., 2016) collected their data more broadly. In addition to examining South Asian immigrants as a whole, it may be beneficial to make a distinction between South Asian immigrant women based on their countries of origin to explore whether or not differences exist.

In conclusion, the reviewed studies generally failed to examine immigrant communities in their full diversity. Further investigations therefore should include immigrant women from cultural backgrounds other than South Asia, including immigrant women from European/developed countries. Only Souto et al. (2016a, 2016b) and Barata et al. (2005) conducted research on women who migrated from Europe, both focusing on Portuguese immigrant women. Additionally, Brownridge and Halli (2002), who conducted secondary analyses based on Canada’s GSS data from 1999, made a comparison between immigrant women who migrated from both developed and developing countries. More in-depth knowledge, however, is necessary to determine whether immigrant women survivors from developed countries face similar challenges in Canada when compared to women from developing countries. As our review demonstrates, there is a danger in pathologizing immigrant women who migrate from developing countries. More research could help to combat this tendency.

Explore IPV from immigrant men’s perspective

Another gap that our review identified is the neglect of men’s experiences with, perceptions of, and responses to IPV. Although immigrant women are more vulnerable to becoming victims of abuse, especially when patriarchal beliefs are prevalent, immigrant men may also have experiences with IPV. None of the reviewed studies solely focused on immigrant men survivors. As we mentioned above, two studies, however, explored both immigrant women’s and men’s experiences with and perceptions of IPV. For example, Kimber et al. (2013) conducted secondary analyses using the GSS data from 2009. They examined whether or not differences exist in reporting IPV between first-, second-, and third-generation immigrant women and men. Additionally, Ahmad et al. (2017) used concept mapping to explore how South Asian immigrant women and men conceptualize IPV. Consequently, there is a lack of knowledge on immigrant men’s experiences with, perceptions of, and responses to IPV. Immigrant men may differ in their help-seeking activities and may face different barriers in sharing their experiences of abuse with service providers. Future research therefore should aim to gain further understanding of immigrant men survivors and their responses to IPV.

Investigate IPV beyond the world of heterosexual couples

In addition to recognizing both immigrant women and men as potential victims/survivors of abuse, research on IPV should seek to understand the experiences of partner abuse among same-sex couples. None of our reviewed articles addressed this issue. Being even further marginalized, homosexual and/or nonbinary immigrant individuals may experience immense stress and challenges settling into a new environment, which could heighten the risk of abuse among partners. Additionally, individuals involved in same-sex relationships may have different challenges in dealing with their abusive situations than heterosexual couples. Since policies and support services can barely respond to the needs of immigrant survivors of abuse involved in heterosexual relationships, it is fair to assume that there is also a lack of appropriate support for same-sex couples. In other words, there may be additional barriers that impact their help-seeking activities or prevent them from seeking formal help. Therefore, research is mandatory to adequately understand immigrant same-sex couples’ experiences with, perceptions of, and responses to IPV and to provide appropriate support that can respond to their particular needs.

Target other stakeholders besides the survivors and their immediate associates

In addition to acknowledging the diversity of immigrant survivors of IPV (diverse cultural backgrounds, different relationship approaches, various genders, and particular individual circumstances), it would be beneficial to collect more data on the experiences of service providers who are involved in immigrant survivors’ help-seeking processes, including community activists, frontline staff, executive directors, police officers, legal and health-care professionals, and so on. As we mentioned above, some of our reviewed studies (Alaggia et al., 2009; George & Rashidi, 2014; Guruge & Humphreys, 2009; Singh, 2010) focused and conducted research on service providers, capturing their perspectives on immigrant women survivors’ barriers in seeking help and responding to IPV, especially in the GTA. Conducting a study that incorporates, combines, and discusses both the voices of the survivors of abuse and the perspectives of those who provide help may allow researchers to generate a more comprehensive picture within the same setting.

Additionally, it would be valuable to hear the voices of the abusers themselves. Research on the challenges and issues that led them to their abusive behaviors as well as their views and responses to being identified as abusers could enrich our insights about IPV. We recognize, however, that such an approach would be immensely challenging and most likely will involve recruitment issues as well as ethical challenges. It nonetheless could help researchers and policy makers to gain a better understanding of the causes of IPV, thereby allowing them to develop more effective prevention strategies.

Rework Canada’s GSS questionnaire

The GSS is a Canada-wide survey that collects data on social trends and monitors living conditions every 5 years. It tracks differences in social categories and changes across generations and is available for researchers to use. Secondary analyses can indeed provide a comprehensive understanding of the issue and thereby address some of the gaps we identified. The reviewed studies that made use of the GSS data set, however, discussed various issues surrounding the GSS questionnaire and concluded that these issues jeopardized the quality of their findings. For example, Brownridge and Halli (2002) found that their study was compromised due to the fact that the “data file does not allow comparisons of immigrants from specific countries. Hence, the findings have limited generalizability when referring to immigrants from specific countries that fall within either the developing or developed categories.” (p. 469)

Hyman, Forte, Du Mont, Romans, and Cohen (2006a) also identified various problems concerning the GSS questionnaire. They acknowledged that the GSS did not include some of the risk factors that are normally associated with physical partner abuse such as pregnancy and perpetrator drinking, which impacted their results. Additionally, immigrants may be reluctant in disclosing their experiences of abuse in population surveys due to the sensitive nature of this topic, which in turn might lead to an underestimation in the prevalence of IPV in Canada. Hyman et al. (2006a) also noticed the lack of specific information on individuals’ countries of birth as well as individuals’ immigration statuses (immigrant vs. refugee) and the survey’s exclusion of individuals whose English or French language skills are limited. Interestingly, the concerns that researchers had with the 1999 GSS questionnaire do not appear to have been addressed in the 2009 GSS questionnaire. In other words, within the span of 10 years, the survey has not changed. It is therefore important to review and refine the questionnaire before conducting subsequent population surveys on victimization and abuse.