The children waiting for safety, not Santa

By Elodie Berthe, Barnardos Aotearoa Advocacy Lead

Christmas is meant to be magic for children — the sun shining, the excitement of presents under the tree, the joy of being surrounded by family. But for some children in Aotearoa, Christmas brings something very different: fear. While other children drift off to sleep wondering what Santa toys might bring, these children are hoping he will bring safety.

As we enter the festive season, stress, isolation, and financial pressure combine in ways that too often lead to a surge in family harm. Services close, routines fall away, and for families already struggling, Christmas can become a breaking point rather than a celebration.

However, here's what often gets lost in the statistics: behind every incident of family violence is a child carrying what no child should ever have to carry.

What does a nine-year-old dream about when she's too afraid to sleep?

For Olivia, it's cows. She's never been on a farm, but she loves them fiercely — each one different, each one beautiful. She tells me this while carefully placing sparkly stickers on a vision board, her mum beside her. It's a small act of hope, this imagining of a future where she might be a dairy farmer.

But three years ago, Olivia wasn't thinking about farms. She was thinking about survival.

Ove the years, I have witnessed the privilege of meeting children who have rebuilt themselves from unimaginable trauma, just like Olivia. I have also felt heartbroken knowing how many others are still trapped in fear.

Our country has the highest rate of family and sexual violence in the developed world. Every four minutes, Police respond to a family violence incident, and one in seven children grow up in violent homes. Yet these numbers barely scratch the surface — fewer than one in four cases are ever reported.

Behind every statistic are real people, with their own personal story.

Olivia witnessed her mother being strangled, assaulted, and nearly killed. Her mother found the strength to leave. With the right support Olivia learned to build a safety plan — locking herself in the bathroom, knowing when to call 111, learning the code word to use at school. But more than that, she learnt she was brave.

Then there's Tane, a confident, kind and caring young boy whose family has known three generations of violence, but whose mother is determined to make sure it ends once and for all.

Amber, who appeared incredibly mature with her six-week-old baby, but was just 17 years old when we met — her childhood taken from her by parents now in jail. She found herself pregnant, walking into emergency accommodation only to find her bed being used for sex and drug deals happening next door. Patient, intuitive, protective with her little girl, she's defying the odds and rewriting her own story, entirely.

What all of these tamariki have in common is not just what they've survived, it's the strength they've shown in rising again.

They are among the 1,122 children supported at Barnardos over the last year through our family violence programmes. Each one with their own story. Each one deserving of safety.

Yet family violence doesn't pause for the holiday. These children face danger not just at Christmas — but every single day of the year. Christmas simply makes visible what is always there: the strain on families, the lack of support, the moments when everything can tip from tense to dangerous.

Breaking the cycle of intergenerational violence takes ongoing commitment, not just seasonal gestures. It takes a community willing to see these children clearly, to listen to their stories, and to act — year after year. It takes a country believing that every tamaiti in Aotearoa deserves to feel safe in their own home, always.

Change requires early intervention programmes that meet families before crisis hits. It demands wraparound support that walks alongside families, including working with children and perpetrators to break cycles of harm, not just for weeks, but for as long as it takes to rebuild safety and break intergenerational cycles. We need to look at this issue long-term. And critically, it requires sustained investment and community willingness to see family violence not as a private matter, but as something we all have a responsibility to prevent.

Olivia is thriving now. She's moved up a year in maths. She's become an open, confident child who loves helping others. She's learning that safety is possible, that violence doesn't define her future, and that her dreams, whether they're about cows or anything else, matter.

Tane looks up to his incredibly strong mum, proudly campaigning against family harm.

Amber has joined a carpentry course to become a builder, so she can build a safe house for her daughter and her siblings, who've never had one.

But across our country, countless other children are still living the nightmare these children escaped. Still waiting for safety. Still trapped in homes where violence is a daily reality.

This Christmas, for too many children, safety is a wish, when it should be a right.

We can change that. But only if we act — not just this Christmas, but in the months and years to come. Before services close, before harm escalates. Before another child learns to carry what no child should ever have to bear.

Every child deserves the chance to build vision boards filled with dreams instead of safety plans filled with hiding places. Every child deserves to feel safe — not just at Christmas, but always.