We have all heard it in one form or another. "If it is so bad, why did she stay?". We may not have heard it like that. People have a cunning way of saying what they want without saying it at all. When they make comments such as "It's not the first time", or "apparently he hits her but she's still with him, so maybe he doesn't". Some people don't even need the words. Some say it with a look, with a lack of action, or by walking away from a friend who seems to want to do nothing but complain about her situation.
Regardless of how it is said, victims of DV hear one thing: "It's her own damn fault."
Regardless of how you feel, I am here to tell you firsthand why some women do not leave. Why it would appear that some women are making the choice to stay rather then help themselves. And I am here to tell you that just because she is still with her abuser, does not mean she has not tried to leave. Most of us just cannot.
I do not remember how many times I left my daughters father. I do know that my first experience with a woman leaving DV and returning to it was not mine, but my mother's. So we can start there. I do not remember my exact age. I do not remember how we fit the change into our school routine, I do not remember the season, year, or what caused her to leave to begin with. But I know that for 2 or 3 days, during my adolescence, my mother brought us to a shelter. She wanted to leave.
I do remember the shelter. I remember the specific safety precautions we had to learn in order to maintain anonymity in the neighborhood, and to ensure nobody could get into the home who would not be welcome. I remember the smell. And the lady who ran it had dogs. She told us not to feed them chocolate. I remember her telling me that. I do not remember her face, or her name, or what the dogs looked like. I remember my mother asking us after a few days if we wanted to go home. We were small children taken from our homes, friends and everything familiar. Of course we did, we didn't know any better. I realize now that she is the one that felt as though we should go home, and we were just her justification. Because I too have been in the situation where I justify going back. Even when it was the worst thing for me. Somehow there were things that seemed worse.
The night we left to go home was a scene. My mother threw all of our things into garbage bags because we did not have suitcases. She was carrying them down the stairs when she tripped. By the looks of it after, she rode her face the whole way down. An ambulance was called, I know that, but I forget how the night ended or how we ended up back home. I remember her face. Bruised and swollen, her eyes so swollen she could not open them. I also remember people asking her if my Dad did it to her when we came home. Right in front of me. The implications of moments like that have stayed with me through my adulthood. All I will say is that if you are ever in a position where you think a child is in danger, do something. They will remember you whether you do or not. Forever. (I remember my school guidance counselor saying she thought so when I told her my Dad hit me. She said she was suspicious because of how he spoke to her but could not do anything unless I came forward. That was before mandated reporting laws. Thank God for those. And I remember my neighbor asking if my Dad was using me as a punching bag again when he found out he was mandated to go to rehab. "Why yes. Yes he was. Thanks for the concern.")
I will never know my mothers reasons for leaving that night and going back to my father. Only she will know that. And she's not exactly sharing. Now that I know what I have gone through, I can take a few guesses. I'm guessing my Dad showed up at her job, and in her life, so so sorry.
I'm guessing she looked at the group home we were in and wanted more for us.
I'm guessing she saw her babies missing their home and comfort.
I'm guessing she saw the mountain in front of her, finding a place to live, paying bills and surviving on her own overwhelming. They barely survived together.
I am guessing the help for victims back then was less useful than it is now, and that is saying something.
I'm guessing she had no support system, and nobody to educate her about her options, however limited they may have been.
I wonder, if there was someone there who was trained properly and could have reached my mother, could they have shown her why going back was the wrong choice? I wonder, if the funds were available to assist my mother in her first months on her own, would she have left my father? I wonder, if people weren't more worried about gossip than her well-being, if she would have come forward and asked friends for help? Proper training for advocates, funds in place to assist restarting life, and feeling supported are the three main things I believe would assist victims in breaking the cycle.
I do not know what government resources were in 1990-something.
I do know what was available to me in 2014. And it was a joke. I am here to tell you that the assistance we have in place to help victims of DV escape are absolutely and unquestioningly part of the reason women cannot leave. On more than one occasion, I was sent directly back to my abuser. One in particular comes to mind. I had gotten a restraining order, proven abuse, gotten in touch with a domestic violence advocate, and done everything by the books. The problem is, the books have it so wrong. The books don't work in real life situations. We were living together. I had no family I could go stay with, just not an option. I had no money, because for years I had been in an abusive relationship and allowed myself to get to the point where we shared a vehicle, and I worked less than him so I always had less money. If you don't think either of those facts are related to DV, you do not know DV. Women with jobs, cars, money, and family, are much less likely to be victims. A seasoned abuser knows resources must be limited, if not eliminated. So even though me working less was a reason to berate me, it was the only option he gave me. See, a seasoned abuser can also create a situation and then make it your fault, or your doing. A gas-lighting of sorts. Which, is another post in and of itself.
So, here I am, working less, no car, and a huge house that he just got removed from because I could finally get a restraining order. He broke my phone and damaged the house, which was enough for the police that day to grant one. (I say "that day" because whether or not you get one depends directly on if the officer feels like doing the paper work that day.) But now what? Here I am in this big house, with rent due and no money. Rent is $1300, not including any of the bills. And I don't even make enough in a month to cover it. So I get on it. After an abuser is arrested they go through a period of redemption so to speak. They will offer moon and stars, and be so so very sorry for what they have done. Honeymoon period. Knowing this I took advantage. After all, this time the law was involved. This HAD to be the end, right? I planned on taking full advantage of my position.
I got an advocate who got me a phone. I didn't have one before, the one I was using was borrowed and only connected to wifi. This woman got me a phone and a heater the day she met me. Because I could not refill the fuel tanks and I had a toddler. She told me what I had to do. I had to prove I could afford my home, or another more affordable one before I could get assistance paying for it. And then ask for assistance paying for it.
WHAT?
Yes. I had to show the State of New York that I could already afford the home they were helping me get. They told me that their assistance would do no good if I got into a home I could not afford. Ok, logical. However, I could not afford this, or any home. So I told this to my advocate. She explained that I was applying for a one time assistance in re-homing myself. And that after that, I could then apply for assistance for my rent in the new home I was in. Great.
NOPE. I get to the office of social services, where I am made to wait in a room with around 50 other people applying for all sorts of assistance. After waiting a few hours, I am called in back to wait in a smaller area, and then taken into the office of the biggest bitch I have ever met in my life. Although I cannot disclose her name, I will let you know there is a song that ponders what a particular animal says . . . that may or may not be her last name. IDK, damn amnesia.
Any way, I go into the office of the lady who is clearly the keeper of the funds. And from the way she behaves, I would have to assume those funds come from her personal bank account because she was not about to give some to me. This lady questions my request, which was a simple standard request for a one time payment of $600. I had used my abusers honeymoon period to convince him the best thing for him would be to help me relocate and start paying child support. As part of the agreement he offered $600. One half of what I needed to move into a home I could afford with minimal assistance. All I needed was the other $600 to get in. Then my job would pay my rent, and my handy dandy advocate told me I could get assistance with bills and food temporarily. Sounds great, right?
Sure did.
Immediately she questions why if my abuser is willing to help me, do I need her help as well . . . How do you explain to someone that this help is fleeting, and not reliable, and the result of forced guilt? I tell her that I have not filed for assistance yet because I am not in the home so I cannot provide proof of what it costs to live there. I explain that the $600 is to get me into the home, and that I can afford rent after and will just need a bit of help until I get a better job. Keeper of the funds tells me that if I have a plan, if I can afford the place, and have a job, and help from my child's father, that I do not qualify for any assistance. Despite my explanation and story, despite crying in her office telling her that if I did not get this help I had to go back to him, despite everyone else in my support system saying this help is there for me, I left that day with nothing. Nothing but a one way ticket to asking him to take me back so I was not homeless.
This is just one example of our severely broken system. A system that asks me to do something to qualify for assistance, then tells me that because I did that something, I do not qualify. A system that allows an untrained desk jockey to determine if someone is a victim in need of help or trying to scam the system. There was not one person involved who was properly trained in working with victims, PTSD and trauma victims, or with single mothers. Not one person was concerned with what had happened or would happen to me. That day, NY state's sole concern was not handing out more money than it should. And that concern was not a latent concern revolving around a system that helps women, it was a primary concern in a system who's job is to protect itself while answering to public outcry for help. Appearance is what is taken into account when these systems are in place. Not practicality, not research and science and facts and information from the horses mouth, but policy made by people with no experience or concern for the people the policy is for.
I broke the cycle. The state did not help me, I did not get assistance that, or any other day. And when I did finally leave, my sister gave me exactly $600 to do so. My abuser was not arrested until he abused our child. And even then, he was let off without due punishment. Again, I promise to get to all of that in a future post. What I am saying now, is that the system did not help me leave. I got out despite of our system, not because of it. So when you wonder why women stay, think of this post, and think of the fact that it is one of a dozen things that you would never know about until you needed to, that explain how easy it is to be stuck in the cycle of violence.
We must remove the stigma from coming forward. We must stop at all costs any action or statements that discourage a woman from coming forward at any time. We must throw away notions of women being to blame or at fault for being in their position and instead recognize that something must be severely broken if women are staying in relationships that kill them at such an alarming rate. We must accept responsibility for creating that stigma and take action against it. Only then can we begin the reform that is so desperately needed.