Down the rabbit hole
*Trigger warning* the following article discusses a variety of topics associated with violence and assault. This is only part of the article; the rest will be featured as a web-exclusive. Please read with caution and care.
The topics of violence and assault are disturbing. Being a victim-survivor of violence and assault is life altering. The process of victimization is dark, long, frightening and convoluted. It’s like falling down a rabbit hole – only to land in a world of madness.
The purpose of opening dialogue on such an uncomfortable topic is to intentionally create a safe space, to educate, inform, break the silence, heal, and support survival – as individuals, and as a community in order to get somewhere.
“Would you tell me, please which way I out to go from here?”
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.
“I don’t much care where,” said Alice.
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.
“So long as I get SOMEWHERE,” Alice added as an explanation.
“Oh you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “If you only walk long enough.”
In order to capture the whole picture, it is important to share the various parts of the story. In true wonderland fashion, I will start the story at the beginning, and will go in series, until I come to the end. Then I’ll stop.
This part of the story explains the Stages of Violence.
One of the single most common questions that survivors of domestic violence are asked is, “Why didn’t you just leave?”
I myself have also been asked, “You have a black belt in karate, why didn’t you just defend yourself?” “You are a smart, successful, and educated woman, why couldn’t you figure it out and spare yourself?” “Why didn’t you just ask for help?”
These questions are victim blaming. The answers (for me) are long and complicated.
I am not a typical victim-survivor, according to what socialized perceptions and stigmatization would have you believe. I am educated. I have attended university and was raised in an upper middle class privilege in the U.S. My education and professional specialization has been human rights, anti-oppression, non-violent communication, and conflict resolution. I have worked with crisis support, street outreach teams, and social and environmental justice initiatives for my entire life.
I am however, a typical victim-survivor because of several identity categorizations, including being a woman, being a person of colour, being an immigrant, being a student in financial strain, and being a person with (invisible) dis/abilities. Despite these identities being associated with prime candidacy for violence, no category of identity is ultimately ever exempt.
Domestic violence only occurs in intimate interdependent and long(er) term relationships. According to experts there are five stages in the process. However, in my next piece “Through the Looking Glass,” I will be proposing a sixth stage.
Stage one: the illusion of love and the creation of fantasy. I met a man from Fergus, whom, at the beginning stages of our relationship, was charming, loving, and he “adored me.” He was good on paper, had a degree in a specialized field that paid well, pursued fitness as a personal hobby, and spoke of – and claimed to live by – spiritual values and politically progressive ethics. He created an illusion of a relationship that many women are socialized to desire and fantasize about growing up, similar to the Disney version of a Prince Charming rescuing the distressed maiden only to take her to a castle in the clouds. It was, however, in the clouds of this fantasy that stages of domestic violence and assault would unfold, only to eventually be deemed as “extreme” by the police and court systems.
He would confide in me for hours about his childhood as a survivor from when his substance addicted father would routinely attack him, his alcoholic mother and brother (who had sustained brain injury from the violence) only to end when they fled to a shelter – rendering his father a fugitive of the law running from criminal charges and back owed child support. There were many histories of attempted suicide, one almost successful attempt following his consumption of a whole gallon of anti-freeze in an attempt to sedate high school depression. He was so proud of “overcoming,” and the successful and productive life he vowed to live going forward. He would enquire about my personal history, all my life challenges; he was specifically interested in my encounters with violence, and listened attentively to my vulnerabilities and beliefs. Talks would conclude with his admiration for my “open mindedness” and political perspectives, and his stated commitment to a collaborative vision for a good life together.
Stage two: isolation. Several months into our relationship, the second stage of domestic violence began to unfold. Feeling close and in the illusion of love, we decided that it would be financially efficient, as well as an investment in our commitment, to move in together. It seemed like a reasonable choice at the time, considering the amount of time we were spending together already.
Shortly after moving in he began to isolate me. He did this by constantly pressuring me to be diligent in my work in order to become the success I strived to be and argued that the quest for success left no time for socializing outside of the home. Further, by arguing that the majority of my friends were problematic and disloyal, he discouraged me from having them in my life. In addition, he would utilize increasingly escalating tactics of manipulation, which began suddenly after moving in, when he decided he had become “too depressed and anxious to work any longer,” and thus would count on me unilaterally to support him both emotionally as well as financially, as he would lie in bed all day – every day – threatening suicide by very specific means – if I should leave him or be unable to support him through his depression. There were days where he would call me at work stating that he was about to hang himself from a rope in the house, and that he needed me to return home immediately in order to protect him from his own lack of will to live. He would claim to be looking for work, but nothing ever really manifested, at least not for long.