I went to school with these girls, and I've been judged as "weak", "stupid", and many other things on this very site when I shared my story of abuse. I would love for people to "get it", but many won't.
Why doesn't she just leave?
highlights for those that won't read the article:
Why doesn't she just leave?
highlights for those that won't read the article:
Victims are six times likelier to be killed when attempting to separate. That’s why she doesn’t just leave. That’s why she shouldn’t just leave, not without a safety plan, and not without the full awareness of the gravity of her situation by her loved ones and the community they all live in. Not without us.
many abused women often stay silent, some for fear of even worse retaliation, others because they’re too ashamed.
This is the thing about domestic violence: we as a community are more skeptical than we’re comfortable admitting. Part of it is protective; if we can keep issues like these at arm’s length, if we can chalk up the headlines detailing the handful of cases that end in murder as a strange, rare sort of “snapping” that happened to somebody who is nothing like us, we can pretend domestic abuse isn’t as prevalent as it is. That it has nothing to do with our own lives, that it’s not our problem.
And from this arm’s-length distance we feel safe to judge. To ask, whether publicly in the comment sections of news articles or privately in whispers among trusted friends, why didn’t she just leave? How did she get into that situation in the first place, and how could she let it get so bad? At the very least, how could she do that to her kids? But what we’re really saying is, that could never happen to me. Except that’s what many victims of domestic violence said once, too, and likely kept saying—in some cases all the way to the grave. Nobody wants to self-identify as a victim. Not you, not me and not them.
law enforcement gathers as much evidence as possible while on the scene, knowing full well that victims “might report it today, and recant tomorrow. It’s not unusual.” There are dozens of reasons why, not least of which is that you and I are skeptical and disengaged—and victims know that. They read the news article comments. They hear what their own friends say, what you and I say when we don’t realize who we’re talking to, because we’ve forgotten that one-in-four statistic. It serves to reinforce what their abusers are already telling them: that this is their fault. That no one will believe them anyway. That they are terrible mothers, terrible people. That they have no place to go and no one to go to. And right there in the middle of it all, when they’re worn down, exhausted, operating from a place of desperation and hopelessness not unlike a war refugee, it’s not so hard to believe.
many abused women often stay silent, some for fear of even worse retaliation, others because they’re too ashamed.
This is the thing about domestic violence: we as a community are more skeptical than we’re comfortable admitting. Part of it is protective; if we can keep issues like these at arm’s length, if we can chalk up the headlines detailing the handful of cases that end in murder as a strange, rare sort of “snapping” that happened to somebody who is nothing like us, we can pretend domestic abuse isn’t as prevalent as it is. That it has nothing to do with our own lives, that it’s not our problem.
And from this arm’s-length distance we feel safe to judge. To ask, whether publicly in the comment sections of news articles or privately in whispers among trusted friends, why didn’t she just leave? How did she get into that situation in the first place, and how could she let it get so bad? At the very least, how could she do that to her kids? But what we’re really saying is, that could never happen to me. Except that’s what many victims of domestic violence said once, too, and likely kept saying—in some cases all the way to the grave. Nobody wants to self-identify as a victim. Not you, not me and not them.
law enforcement gathers as much evidence as possible while on the scene, knowing full well that victims “might report it today, and recant tomorrow. It’s not unusual.” There are dozens of reasons why, not least of which is that you and I are skeptical and disengaged—and victims know that. They read the news article comments. They hear what their own friends say, what you and I say when we don’t realize who we’re talking to, because we’ve forgotten that one-in-four statistic. It serves to reinforce what their abusers are already telling them: that this is their fault. That no one will believe them anyway. That they are terrible mothers, terrible people. That they have no place to go and no one to go to. And right there in the middle of it all, when they’re worn down, exhausted, operating from a place of desperation and hopelessness not unlike a war refugee, it’s not so hard to believe.
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