Sunday, August 25, 2013

The challenges to accepting (or celebrating) relationships rebuilt after abuse

The link below is a blog post at A Practical Wedding written by a woman who is rebuilding a relationship after abuse. It's an amazing and brave post. You should go read it. The link was sent to me by a friend who supervises the volunteers at a domestic violence and sexual assault agency. One of the volunteers had posted the link on an internal social media page.

Before you jump down my throat for condoning partner violence (I don't), please don't read any further if this kind of discussion hurts or infuriates you. Also if you don't have time to do the reading and thinking, move on. Life's too short.
The Redemption of the 52%: Rebuilding a relationship after abuse

My day job was work for people who survived abuse or the family of those who haven't for over 25 years - basically since I was a very young, cranky, idealistic woman. That work included a 10 stint as a domestic violence shelter director. I have always been struck by the zealously unforgiving nature of the work. People who are advocates for partner violence victims can espouse something akin to hatred for anyone who has chosen to abuse a partner or a child. Some of that attitude isn't real - it is simply the easiest broad stroke to take in a world that has little patience for sophistication. A 60 second public service spot doesn't offer the space to do much else than bark out that the violence must stop and is evil. And, golly knows funders and politicians don't want to contend with any waffling ideals out there. Thus our attitudes can be sharp, succinct and lofty. Yet, we know better. We know it's not simple. Victims aren't the good guys and abusers aren't the bad guys. We know there is no 'they' = there is only us. Violence in relationships is much more complicated. It is a huge hurdle to get from a sound bite to reality and back again.

Anti-partner violence work is surreal sometimes. I had staff who were in abusive relationships themselves telling women to leave abusive partners unequivocally because that was "the party line" - then unable to sleep at night and suffer from very complicated stress. I've had staff arrested for battering who were working with victims within the week - and doing a good job - really. And I've had staff leave a copy of their will under my office door at night because they were afraid their partner would kill them. What I have learned is that love and violence are intensely complicated and linked in cultures and social norms. It's messy out here. I sat in meetings where there were discussions about how we couldn't have batterers on the agency grounds while I knew of more than one person in the staff audience who was under the restrictions of a protective order. My heart was breaking for everyone in those moments.

The points that rang significant to me in the blog above are:
1) his friends held him accountable and didn't allow him to shirk his abusive behaviors - but, continue to love him and support him. None of us can heal and then change without both those things. But we all have the capacity, no matter how rarely it happens, to both heal and change when we have this gift of accountability and love. Young man, you are blessed. Never, never devalue what you have.
2) our culture always blames the victim first - we blame ourselves, people who hurt us blame us, our friends and families blame us, therapists blame us. So ugly. We have to change that as a society. Every day.

I left my job of 20 years at a dv agency last year (I'm working on a PhD), and I have been able to begin constructing a newer story about partner violence. One that allows us to live in reality and carry on to reduce the violence in the spirit of healing everyone equally, victims and abusers, and everyone in between. The story in the A Practical Wedding blog helps. So do other stories we hardly ever tell; the people who raised abusers, the people who have been with multiple abusers, the people who were abusive, the friends of abusers and victims, the anti-violence workers who chose violence. You know; all of us.