BRATTLEBORO — When people hear horror stories of domestic violence, so often their first thought is, “Why doesn't the victim just leave?”
This question tends to assume that: 1) She can, 2) She hasn't tried, 3) Doing so will make her safer, and 4) It might help end the bigger social problem.
But what our area's recent spike in domestic violence murders highlights is that for most victims, leaving doesn't instantly spell freedom, and for some, the “choice” is pared down to extremes - living with a man who is highly dangerous, or leaving a man who might be deadly.
Sadly, that dilemma is neither random, nor rare.
Aside from many societal barriers that can keep victims feeling stuck, research in the U.S. shows that women have a 75 percent greater risk of being killed after they leave a violent relationship than they do if they stay in it.
That's because to certain batterers, leaving is a lethal betrayal.
* * *
Many victims have stayed for years under death threats and endured countless forms of cruelty along the way. Every day, three women are killed in this country by intimate partners, and children are killed with them about 20 percent of the time.
It's estimated, too, that the mere presence of a gun increases the risk of homicide by a factor of five in domestic-violence cases.
But victims themselves can't go by statistics; they must trust their own instincts, judge their own risks, and read minuscule signs to survive. And every single day, brave and terrified women do try to flee.
Still, that doesn't end society's problem, because abuse is a learned behavior that most batterers will use again, moving from victim to victim.
Battering is about entitlement; it is about power and control, which abusers have a huge stake in maintaining. What they expect, and in extreme cases get, is essentially a hostage who's visible to all.
And herein lies the unique plight of victims of domestic violence: their captor might not need a key and, in the long run, their community might not keep them safe.
* * *
If we're ever to make meaningful change in our culture, we must first resist that age-old impulse to analyze the victim's thinking or behavior over the perpetrator's. Doing so avoids the real problem and affects every protective system along the way.
We must also look beyond the Cleveland tragedy of three women who were literally locked up for a decade and realize how terror itself can block a way out.
Clearly in any relationship, even a single death threat will hang in the air like a weapon from that point on. Plus, in most dangerous cases, there's been such a buildup of violence that just a tweak of the overall fear might be enough. (A perpetrator might say, “If you even think about leaving,” while making a mere fingertip gesture to suggest pulling a trigger.)
Leaving is usually a process and not a single event for any victim. But no two exits are alike, and there are always open questions.
Safety planning, support, and rigorous law enforcement are critical, but even so, there are still women who do everything “right,” or do whatever they can - maybe get protective orders or flee the state entirely - but they're found time and time again.
They might be pulled back, or, as so many recent headlines bear out, they might also be killed for leaving.
* * *
We now have 1,924 shelters around this country. That's certainly progress, but it also shows how far we still have to go.
And that's what begs the central question here: How far must any woman go just to live a life safe from abuse?
Some women literally choose to disappear, change their names and whole lives, and try, in our hyper-trackable age, to leave no trace.
And some, understandably, might weigh all their risks and options and decide there's really nowhere to hide.
* * *
We're about 40 years into this movement now and, despite all the gains, allies, and inspired activism around the country, there are still many ways batterers can hide.
And they don't just hide behind literal bushes as stalkers or behind blatant misogyny.
Most people want women safe, but the subtle misogyny in our society causes too many to unintentionally harbor abusers. As a culture, we have a long way to go when we still examine a victim's mindset more than we do our own.
Too often, we still blame, shame, or otherwise belittle a victim's cause, like when we ask: “What was she thinking/wearing/doing there in the first place?” Or the classic, “Why didn't she just leave?”
Few crimes are as common, or as rooted in patriarchal thinking, as domestic violence, which is still the leading cause of injury to women in America - more than rapes, muggings, and car accidents combined. Every nine seconds, a woman is assaulted or beaten here. Yet, collectively, we tend to resist looking this giant bully in the eye.
And that's how male privilege still functions and violent masculinity thrives.
Any misplaced focus, or placating reflex - whether from a cop, a judge, or the neighbor next door - just helps a batterer hide.
Victims don't create batterers; it's the other way around. We're all still caught in this culture of violence, and we could spend another four decades describing the effects.
But the one progressive leap is to address the cause.