3. ROOTS OF VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN

HIStory: The Way Things Always Have Been

As illustrated here, how we think about the problem of domestic abuse affects its solution. Yet, my thesis is that embedded sexism in society clouds the community's vision of how to frame an ethical response to a woman who uses lethal force to save her life.
Because men commit at least 95 percent of violent crimes in the United States, society ­ within the criminal justice system and otherwise ­ has far less experience dealing with women offenders. From the first instance of battery, the man may attempt to cultivate a positive impression among his neighbors and business associates that deflects attention away from his personal life at home and focuses on his public nice-guy, president-of-the-Rotary persona. As long as his abuse leaves no telltale marks on his victim, he can continue his lie uncontested.

"Patriarchy has provided legitimation of sexual violence. Patriarchy sustains and perpetuates male control over females." (Bloomquist [in Brown/Bohn] 1989, 62, 66) Though occasionally an acquaintance might realize that she has not seen this woman outside her house for months and decides to investigate, the community frequently values privacy over taking small steps toward showing their concern.

Domestic abuse frequently is treated as if it were a communicable disease. What goes on inside another's home is off-limits to public scrutiny. The next-door neighbor may have seen police cars in the yard several times a year, observed her friend wearing dark glasses on a cloudy day at the market, and heard almost constant fighting, but it is none of her business. Even though a woman may have sought help through a shelter, her life as a battered woman typically comes to light only if and when she is killed by her abuser. Therefore, the first time the community may face the truth is often when their neighbor, the battered woman, is either killed by her abuser or kills her abuser to save her life.

Naming domestic violence can offer hope through making the private public. Assault is illegal in every state, and domestic violence projects nationwide can help respond to battered women's questions and concerns. They are skilled in helping women develop safety plans and are well informed of local services and other options. They also know that "no matter what, only the battered woman and her children will live with the consequences of the choices she makes. Whatever strategy she chooses, only the batterer controls future abuse." (Spruce Run Association 2000, 15)

Those victims who turn the tables on their abusers by killing them discover another kind of abuse in the criminal justice system. Sexism is rampant in a system that has less experience dealing with violent women offenders than with men who maim and kill. A battered woman defendant who kills her abuser is mistreated at every turn. The public cannot understand why she chose to kill rather than "simply" leave the abusive situation. She survives her partner's blows only to be traumatized by state prosecutors who take a narrow view of her own violence.

There is no justice in a system that, by its policies and actions, assumes not that a battered woman who kills is innocent until proven guilty, but rather assumes her guilt before trial by imposing higher bail requirements, detaining her longer, and ultimately sentencing her to longer prison terms than any other kind of defendant, including serial rapists and murderers. "This is nothing short of misogyny," said Sarah Buell, a district attorney who worked in a battered women's project in Massachusetts and the narrator of "Defending our Lives," a film that will be discussed later. Let's face it: In most people's view, it's just not women's place do violence.

Consider how the movie "Thelma and Louise" proceeds and ends. Here, storytelling shifts to truth telling as each scene unfolds. Louise is a feisty woman who works hard for her money waiting tables in a local diner. Thelma is a young, beautiful wife of a cruel and abusive man who wants to control her every move. Then one day Thelma and Louise embark on the ride of their lives.

On their way to a remote camp in the mountains for a little fishing and relaxation, the women stop at a bar. Thelma feels the effects of having too much to drink and attracts the attention of a cowboy-hat wearing man who has more in mind than accompanying her outside to get some air. Louise eventually goes outside and finds Thelma pushed over the trunk of a car with the cowboy attempting to rape her.

Viewers do not learn until later that Louise herself had been raped as a young girl. The flashback of her own experience of being raped collided with the attempted rape of her friend. Louise first brandished the handgun they had brought along and then when the cowboy refuses to apologize, Louise shoots and kills him. Thelma suggests that they should turn themselves in and tell their story about what had happened. She was convinced that if they pleaded self-defense, they would be exonerated for killing the attempted rapist. Louise responded: "We don't live in that kind of world."

The state police officer in charge of the investigation of the shooting happened to know Louise and what had happened to her when she lived in Texas. He tries several times to convince the women to surrender and that the law would look more kindly upon them if they did. But Louise did not trust the law to do the right thing, so the pair kept running and committing more crimes in their quest to leave the country, such as robbing a store after they themselves were robbed by a hitchhiker they had taken pity on.

The closing scenes depict an army of police cruisers, blue lights flashing, in hot pursuit of these two "armed and dangerous" women. Though the movie left it to viewers to take from the plot what they will, I wondered what would happen if more police officers learned how victims of domestic violence might react when they are thrust into situations such as those depicted in this film.

The U.S. Bureau of Justice has studied the issue and published a report in April 1999 that showed the percentage of men and women sentenced to prison or jail who had previously experienced abuse, such as rape, battering, or incest. There is no question that some women and some men should be in prison for crimes they commit against their neighbors. The report, however, found that while a total of 18.7 percent of state prison inmates reported prior abuse, 57.2 percent of those so reporting were women. Likewise, 9.5 percent of federal prison inmates reported abuse before sentencing, 39.9 percent of them women. Findings were similar in local and county jails, where of the 16.4 percent of inmates reporting prior abuse, 43.6 percent of them were women.

In Maine, Attorney General Steven Rowe says such statistics tell a grim tale. More than 80 percent of convicted domestic abusers in Maine were raised in homes with chronic abuse. According to a story published in the Kennebec Journal on February 10, 2004, Rowe said he had come across cases where every one of fifteen women in Portland's juvenile detention center admitted they had suffered domestic abuse.

Lessons emerge from sifting through federal Bureau of Justice and Maine state crime data and through viewing gritty films like "Thelma and Louise." As with many cases of domestic violence, Thelma did not precipitate the violence she encountered by dancing with a strange man. When the community fails to hold abusers responsible for their crimes, however, the victim may accept blame and believe that she deserves to be abused, or at least that she is not free to change the situation.

In her confusion, storytelling may replace truth telling. The story told will likely focus on how she provoked the beating or rape, not on the truth of his ability to stop it. His domination and oppression of her are unjust. "These injustices violate the covenant of mutual responsibility. They violate the relationship and they violate the personhood of both parties. When an injustice is done, the entire human community experiences a breach of covenant." (Lebacqz 1987, 257)

Theology: The Bible Tells Me So

A Christian woman who has been battered, as well as women with other, or no, faith traditions, may look to the church and/or scripture for guidance and security. Yet, her search for divine answers may leave her even more confused and troubled. Some church teaching promotes the subordinate position of a woman in her family. Ministers may preach a theology of suffering that keeps a battered woman from getting the help she needs.

Hers is a multifaceted crisis: Effects of her physical abuse may be evident while her invisible emotional and spiritual wounds lie untreated. While some pastors suggest that an abused woman leave her abuser and seek help at a battered women's shelter, others may counsel her to return home and work to be a better Christian wife. In her confusion and distress, she may be bombarded with "helpful" messages that misuse or distort scriptural passages that may justify the abuse.

Above all, this woman needs caring support from her friends and pastor to be reminded that God will not abandon her. (Fortune 1987, xi-xiv.) Still, she may feel as if she is being punished by God for something she imagines she has done wrong. The focus is on God or herself, instead of the actual cause of suffering: her husband's decision to exercise control and use violence. However, by looking at herself as the cause of the abuse, as Thelma did, she focuses on her sinfulness and not his violence.

She may also construct a story about God's actions in punishing or abandoning her, rather than on the behavior of the man who is hurting the one he promised to love and care for. Because she cannot change her abuser's behavior, she seeks to change herself. In contrast, a woman may be comforted if she can understand that it is her abuser's decision, not God's, to hurt her. "Focusing on his behavior rather than on her characteristics may offer an 'anchor' for a battered woman to embrace while working to survive a tempestuous time. The behavior-not characteristics guideline can be a constant help in responding." (Adams 1994, 105-106)

Some pastors may conclude that a woman remains bound by her marriage vows, should turn the other cheek, and stand by her man in the face of his abuse. Central to many Christian pastors' theology is the cross. They counsel that God required Jesus' suffering and death to save the world. However, theological claims that sanction violence often fail to resonate with women whose lives are submerged in violence and pain. "The importance of Jesus for liberal Christians is not only that he paid the price for sin. He is important because he embodied loving concern for others and called people to love their neighbors." (Brock and Parker 2001, 32) While the social gospel may be helpful for many people, battered women need even more: they need to create a sense of self and reject the teaching of those who foster their submission.

"We need to be saved from the gender socialization that teaches women to abnegate selfhood and teaches men to depend on the service of subordinates. The dynamic of dominance and submission in human relations is the heart of sin. What will save us from this? (Ibid., 36-37)

A good ethic names the dynamic of dominance and submission sin.

The Bible, too, can offer comfort or increase despair in battered women. Pastors who choose to walk with a battered woman may remind her of what Jeremiah wrote,
"For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord." (Jeremiah 29:11-14a)

On the other hand, the Yahweh-Hosea marriage metaphor (Hosea 1.2-2.14) is a potential cause of pain for women, especially those who are victims of sexual violence and exploitation. Seeing herself through the eyes of Gomer, Hosea's wife of whoredom, she could rationally conclude that the Book of Hosea ­ and, indeed, the entire Bible ­ only confirms her negative self view.

As Hester Prynne did in The Scarlet Letter, a battered woman may don a badge that proclaims her sin against the community and thus negates other facets of her life, including her role as a mother, a worker, a sister, or a friend. In the novel, the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale, Prynne's minister and the father of her baby daughter Pearl born out of wedlock, would neither claim the child nor admit to the act that created her. As a representative of the church and community, he escaped culpability for the sin committed against one of its own. Prynne refused to testify against this man of God, but instead she, alone bore the marks of the community's shame. In many ways, though, Hester's wearing that scarlet letter transformed it into a sign of dignity and worth.

Many battered women today, however, bear the burden of their abuse alone. When no one comes forward to name the violence and create a safe environment for her, she may lose all sense of hope. She rightly feels twice victimized, first by her abuser and again by the community, which is blind to its complicity in her trauma. To end the nightmare of living as a battered woman, she may view the use of killing violence as her only means to escape. In this extreme case, the church within the community must wrestle with uncomfortable circumstances that may render each silent, or, alternatively damn her for taking a life, no matter the circumstances.

Forgiveness Is Not Forgetting

Many battered women juggle issues of forgiveness and accountability in relation to their abuser. A battered woman may believe that God or some person expects her to forgive her abuser as her wifely duty. She may have been told by a minister, family member or friend that if she had been a better wife she might not have been battered. That she must forgive and forget. Abuse victims may even hold God responsible for their abuse.

Forgiveness is not forgetting. Before any consideration of either issue, the woman first must assure her own safety. While forgiveness may actually empower a battered woman by putting her in charge of her response to abuse, she may put herself at risk by letting her guard down and forgiving her abuser before she is safe. "In fact, discussing forgiveness may keep the victim from safety." (Adams 1994, 82)
If the abuse victim still lives in harm's way with her abuser, forgiveness is inappropriate. It ignores his violent, controlling behavior and allows the batterer to escape accountability. Battery is both a sin and criminal act. His victim must feel assured that her church and/or community are walking with her to assure that justice is done and that she is not alone while seeking an end to his abuse.
The key to accountability rests on the very characteristic that works so well for the batterer: control. While he is in control in a battering situation, he also has control over stopping that behavior. Such a man stares accountability in the face when he realizes that no one will step between him and the consequences of his actions, whether those consequences mean his wife's leaving, his imprisonment, or even his death.

A good ethic names battery as both a sin and a crime.