Conference turris::womannotes-v1

    
    The question I've heard most often, from women in both sitations:
    
    "Where will I go?"
    
    It's a particularly horrible case of the devil you know vs. the
    devil you don't.  And I never know what to say.
    
    DFW

    It's my naive understanding that women in this situation typically
    have little self esteem remaining.  That becomes its own prison.
    
    Marge

Every few months I see a newspaper story about a child who has murdered a 
parent, where the child is a 60 year old daughter or son and the parent is 
late 70's or 80's.

The emotions that immobilize a person or hold people together are baffling to 
others:  guilt, insecurity, ....  And remember the grotesque truth that 
there are people who don't have  be 'happy' and 'secure' on their list of 
stuff to expect in life.

There are actually two questions here:
Why do women who have been battered stay in the relationship?"  
Why do men who batter stay in the relationship?"  
Both parties are in trouble.  There is no joy on either side.

My friend Sara told me a story about a high school friend of hers, Judy,
who went steady with her boyfriend Jack through high school. At 19, she
said "let's break up." Jack said, "Marry me or I'll kill myself."  She
married him because of this threat.  It was an unhappy marriage, but when
Judy mentioned divorce, he threatened suicide. Four years later she entered
therapy.  And after two months of couseling, Judy's counselor gave her the
following order: Judy had to spend $1.00 a day on herself, for something
she wanted.  Here are two of the things Judy did for the first time in her
life.  Buy a magazine. Sit in a drug store by herself and have a coke. 

Now if I had to choose sides in this story, I'd be on Judy's side.  But I 
feel both of them were suffering greatly.

>  This male would really like to understand [battered women who stay]

How much can any of us understand Judy or Jack?  Or the 60 year old child 
who murders the parent that still demands a 10PM curfew.  The man who wins 
a wife by threats of suicide. The man who beats up his wife and kids nigth 
after night for 15 years.  Or the woman who thinks her 50 year old husband 
might grow up.                    Meigs

    	In the case of my sister she resented the fact that my parents
    had always been trying to split her marriage up, even for a number
    of years when there had been no battering, and she was determined
    to make it work.
    
    	Secondly, she has strong religious convictions against divorce,
    and I suspect she still regards herself as married to him, even
    now all the legal paperwork is finished.
    
    	In fact, I think they would still be married, except that
    - just once - he hit their 6 year old daughter.

        And even for those of us who have more "normal" relationships,
        why do we do the things that *we* do? Although we may not beat
        our wives or threaten suicide, why do we take a hard day out on
        the kids? Why do we blame our spouse when we are unhappy,
        especially when they've tried to help? Why do we fight with
        people we love over things we don't care about as much as
        them? Why do we say and do inconsiderate things?
        
        Given how poorly I understand myself at the worst of times, I'm
        not dreadfully surprised when I find out that others do really
        weird or horrible things? 
        
        Someone asked why to the women of WomanNotes take out their
        frustrations on the men of WomanNotes, who are by and large much
        on their side than many men. Perhaps the answer is the same as
        why we take out the trouble of the days by shouting at our
        spouses or kids, or why men beat and women put up with being
        beaten.
        
        We hurt those we love and trust more readily than others because
        they are more vulnerable and we are safer. If I fight with my
        wife we always make up because we love each other. If I fight
        with a friend or coworker they may never forgive me. I don't
        know, but mightn't it be that domestic violence has similar
        roots? Mightn't there be love and security in the relationship
        as well as sickness and violence?
        
        Don't the women of WomanNotes attack the men here a bit more
        readily, because we're a bit safer to attack? We, after all, are
        at least trying to understand and to act appropriately. And
        don't the men of WomanNotes infuriate the women of WomanNotes a
        bit more than other men might because they expect more of us and
        feel more hurt when we let them down? Doesn't our joint
        membership in this community result in a greater oportunity for
        anger and hurt? 
        
        For all of us love and commitment are risks--risks that we are
        willing to take for love? For those caught in really violent
        families mightn't it be that the risks are just that much
        greater? If this is the case domestic violence is that much
        harder to deal with because it differs from our normal
        experience in degree but not kind (at least in this respect).
        Policemen on domestic violence calls are often attacked by the
        victim. Isn't this similar to the way I would act if someone
        spoke badly of my wife even if we were in the midst of a
        dreadful argument? 
        
        If domestic violence is wholly different from our own lives and
        experiences we can roundly condemn it and work to eradicate it
        and its roots. But if it is just a grotesque amplification of
        the darker sides of normal life it becomes harder to disentangle
        it. We either make apollogies for the violence or condemn the
        smaller conflicts. Drawing the lines is hard. This I condemn.
        That, which has some similar attributes, I don't. The desire
        for consistency cries out that there is something wrong. 
        
        Is all violence bad? Where would we be if people of good
        conscience weren't willing to risk violence or even practice it
        in defense of those incapable of defending themselves. But if we
        condone this violence, and condemn that where do we draw the
        line? 
        
        I once defended a small boy in an alley from fellows twice his
        size who were throwing rocks and bricks at him. Was my violence
        right? Once when 6 or 8 teen agers attack my wife and me I
        pulled a knife I had because we were renovating a house. Was
        armed violence justified? Once, a girlfriend hurt and frustrated
        by the cruelties we all face at times pummelled my chest and
        back, and then the tears came and she sobbed in my arms. Was
        that domestic violence? In highschool I hit my best friend
        becuase he verbally attacked my girlfriend and drove her to
        tears. I struck a girlfriend once who had hit me in anger.
        Decades later, I've never really forgiven myself even though the
        reaction was completely involuntary, and because I understood
        her anger I never really blamed her. Where is the line? 
        
        Domestic violence is a terrible thing and no more to be condoned
        then those boys I stopped from stoning the little boy, but where
        does it start and how does it really differ from any violence,
        any anger? I can't find the answer. I can't explain at times why
        I do what I do. It does not then surprise me that I can not
        understand the battered wife who stays or the battering husband. 
        
        JimB.

    see 456.29 which I hesitate to enter twice.
    
    Lee

    
    re. 4
    	: she has strong religious convictions against divorce.
    
    another reason why i'm against marriage
    and religion.
    

    The following response is from a member of our community who wishes
    to remain anonymous at this time.   I have taken the liberty of
    changing the name of the person referred to in here to "Tom" in
    order to reduce the possibility of the writer being identified.
    
                				=maggie
    
    ====================================================================

    It's hard to know what to say here, but I think I should say something.
    I've been battered.  It's difficult to say that.  It's hard for me to
    believe it happened to me.  I don't know why. 

    I didn't have any kids, so that was one less complication, one less
    worry. 

    Here's the short version of my story: 

    I'd known my ex-husband for about 5 months when he asked me to marry
    him.  I didn't want to say no.  I didn't want to say yes, either, but I
    did.  Because of my job, I was being transferred to a different part of
    the country.  Either we could get married and he could come with me, or
    we could part.  It would've been very difficult for me to refuse the
    transfer and keep the job, and I didn't want to lose it.  We got married
    on Labor Day weekend, 1976, and very shortly thereafter moved. 

    We got a small apartment near where I worked, and I started my job.  He
    looked for work.  He was very jealous that I worked with all men, no
    other women.  At first we didn't have a car, and it bugged him no end
    that if I stuck my thumb out, I got a ride to work or home almost
    instantaneously, whereas he usually had to walk wherever he went, even
    if it was raining.  It didn't help that when we tried hitching
    somewhere together our luck wasn't much better than if he'd been alone.
    He wondered what I was doing for the rides.  Even if I didn't try to
    hitch a ride, guys would stop and ask me if I wanted one.  I felt bad
    that Tom didn't have the same experience.  I wondered if I should
    refuse rides. 

    My co-workers would very often end the shift with a beer in the parking
    lot. By the time I'd gotten to know them well enough to be included in
    the end-of-shift beer, Tom had a job and we'd bought a car.  I'd have
    a beer with the guys while waiting for Tom to pick me up (he got out
    of work later than me).  We invited him to join us, and he did at
    first.  But, he was suspicious about the nature of my relationship with
    my co-workers and paranoid about what they said about him, and after a
    short while he stopped having a beer with us.  Then, I stopped having a
    beer with them.  Tom became more and more suspicious about my
    friendships, and what I was doing with the men at work.  I remember
    being surprised at this behavior.  I didn't remember him being
    excessively jealous or insecure when I met him.  I wasn't provocative
    or flirtatious with other men, and I wasn't a "looker". 

    I remember the first time I saw him very angry -- I don't remember what
    the fight was about, but he was so mad that he couldn't stand up on his
    own and was slouched against one of the walls in our apartment.  His
    hands were clenched tight, balled up into fists at his side, he was
    crying, and he wanted to hit something.  He didn't hit me.  I don't
    remember the first time he hit me.  Obviously, our sexual communication
    was becoming less frequent and less loving.  I remember the night he
    kicked me into the bedroom, then raped me. 

    I had some good friends in whom I could confide.  One, who also
    happened to be my shift supervisor, told me "There's a key under the
    rock near the sliding glass doors (of his apartment); anytime, night or
    day, you feel the need to get away, the key is there for you to let
    yourself in."  This was invaluable. 

				*INVALUABLE*   

    If you know anyone in a similar situation, and you can offer them the
    same, let them know it.  I never took this friend up on his offer, but
    it kept me sane.  It was good to know I had this avenue for escape, if
    I needed it. Thanks to this friend (I found out later) all the bosses
    at the next two levels up knew of my situation.  No one told me what to
    do, but they expressed their concern and (as far as I knew) they kept
    what they knew to themselves. 

    Tom and I had also met a woman who was a counsellor of some sort, and I
    remember her talking to us, and saying (in essence) "There is never an
    excuse for physical violence..."  She stressed that there was _nothing_
    I could do or had already done that was reason for a slap or a shove or
    a kick.  That stuck in my mind.  *I did not deserve it*.  No matter how
    bad I thought I was, I did not deserve what was happening to me.  I
    felt pretty guilty, because I'd married him without conviction.  I am
    still ashamed of that. 

    What I did to cope was to stop speaking my mind with him; I agreed with
    him about anything and everything, and began to act in such a way as to
    avoid confrontation.  Sex was abhorrent, so I got blotto whenever it
    was necessary. I told him that I would leave if we didn't get
    counselling.  I really wanted the counselling to help him, after I'd
    left; I was planning to leave.  I didn't think I needed any counselling
    at the time. 

    I don't know where I got the money -- I either squirrelled it away
    slowly or borrowed it from a friend.  I found a cheap apartment.  One
    day, I drove Tom to work.  Then I went to my job and told my supervisor
    what was happening, and took the day off.  I picked up a friend, we
    went to the apartment Tom and I had shared and packed up all my things.
    I said good bye to my cat and wrote a note to Tom.  I told him I'd gone,
    but didn't let him know where.  I spent the rest of the day and many
    nights thereafter with a close friend. 

    At some later point, I gave Tom the car so that he could get around (to
    his job and his psychologist) and my friend chauffeured me to and from
    work.  Tom staked out the building where I worked and roamed the roads
    looking for me, so for awhile I rode scrunched down on the floor.  Some
    days I got into work late because I had to wait for him to leave.  My
    supervisors were very understanding and were watching out for me, too.
    I think there may have been words between my "big" boss and his and
    from his to him (we worked for the same very large concern, but in two
    separate units).  Anyway, he stopped hanging around my building. 

    Eventually I was brave enough to move into my apartment and Tom and I
    started to meet and talk.  At first I insisted that we meet only in a
    public place. A friend always knew that I was meeting him and where we
    were going.  I called a friend before I left, and again when I
    returned.  I eased up on that restriction once, maybe because I thought
    he was calming down, maybe because I was being foolish.  One night I
    allowed him to give me a ride near to where I was living -- I planned
    to get out and walk back after he'd let me out.  We were parked on the
    side of a road that normally was busy with people going in and out of
    shops.  We started to argue and he tried to strangle me -- I managed to
    get my door open and was hanging out of the car with my head down in
    the gutter, his hands around my neck, looking up the street for people.
    As luck would have it, it was unusually deserted.  I was frightened at
    the time; I don't think he meant to kill me, but that could happen
    unintentionally and he was certainly acting the part.  I kicked myself
    free, ran away, and hid in some bushes.  I stayed there, watching him
    cruise slowly by on the street, looking for me.  I don't know how long
    I waited, but when I hadn't seen him for a long time I snuck home.  It
    was a very long time after that before I saw him again. 

    I never called the cops, once.  I don't know why.  I didn't want him to
    be punished, I wanted him to be helped.  I knew (through the grapevine)
    that he had continued seeing his counsellor.  Why did I stay as long as
    I did?  I felt guilty.  Regardless of what Julia said about physical
    violence, I felt that I deserved to be punished.  When I convinced
    myself of what she'd said, I left. I believed that he didn't _want_ to
    hurt me and somehow that was enough to keep me there.  I believed him
    when he said he was sorry (I still do) and it took a long time for me
    to realise that "I'm sorry" doesn't translate into "I won't do it
    again." 

    re .8:
    
    	Occasionally amongst the chaff of notes comes a note of such
    searing honesty that it is truly remarkable by contrast.
    
    	Thanks for sharing and the very best in your future,
    
    Marge

    How big a factor is (lack of) money?
    
    Also feeling the onus of "can't please a man/ can't keep a man"?
    
    Also fear that running away will instigate more violence?
    
    Dawn
    

    re .10:  (Dawn)
    
    My mother was in such a marriage for about 20 years.  All three
    were *big* factors.
    
    She is disabled, and felt she could not live on her Social security
    disability - which is right, but there is other help available.
    
    She was already divorced from my father, felt she had given up that
    marriage too easily, and didn't want to be twice divorced.  Some
    thought of being 'unable to keep a man'.
    
    Yes, she was very afraid that running away would cause more violence.
    In fact, she left once, he threatened to burn down the house we
    (she, my brother, and me) were living in.  He threatened to kill
    her.  She went back.  Sure enough, there was another 8 years of
    violence before she divorced him.
    
    Elizabeth

    It seems amazing to me now, but my mother and her friends talked
    very seriously of "losing status".
    
    It sounds frivilous, but I believe they considered it a very basic
    issue, and one worth putting up with a lot of abuse for.
    
    Holly

    I think money is probably a big part of women being afraid to leave
    a marriage, and many women do lose financial status upon divorce.
     I did.  I went from the middle class to the working class.  When
    I was married I lived in my own home on 2 acres of land in a nice
    area.  Two years after the divorce, my ex-husband was living in
    a house that was worth $100,000. MORE than our house was, and I
    was living in a cockroach infested slum apartment (my first look
    at a cockroach ever!).  My SO and I have since moved to a nicer
    place but this nicer place is really too expensive for us, so we'll
    most likely be moving down again soon.  
    
    Lorna
    

    	Believe it or not, there are also women who stay because they
    	think that the *HUSBAND* will have difficulty living/making_ends_
    	meet outside the marriage.
    
    	Some abusive husbands are financially dependent on their wives
    	(and love/hate them for it.)  No matter how supportive and non-
    	bossy the wife tries to be, some men feel that their manhood
    	is threatened if they can't make as much money as their wives.
    
    	This may sound really dumb in the 80's, but it happens.
    
    	You'd think that the abused wife would be willing to throw her
    	abuser out on the street, but the kinds of emotional ties that
    	go with marriage make that sort of thing incredibly difficult
    	to do for many women.
    
    							Suzanne...

    IMHO,
    
    I think one of the major problems is the enormous lack of self esteem.
    
    Can't, can't, can't.
    
    But we *can*!
    
    Carol
    
   

    From the replies here, it looks to me as if the (heretofore
    traditional) conditioning of girls in the society makes it easy
    for women to stay in this type of predicament.
    
    If no-one tells us, if we don't have role models, how do we *know*
    that we *can*?
    
    Hmmm..re-reading my first sentence, it occurs to me that it might
    be mis-interpreted. What I mean is that the "girls don't"/"women
    can't"/"ladies shouldn't" type of passivity training sets the stage
    for a woman staying in the situation.
    
    If the problem never arises, or if the woman is assertive along
    the lines of "You try it, buddy, and it'll be last time you ever
    do", then there is no uhm...pattern. Once the "stuck-ness" sets
    in, it seems the problem compunds itself.
    
    What I know about this I'm learning second hand. I appreciate the
    time, effort, and heart it has taken for the women here who have
    first-hand knowledge, to impart some of it to us. If my ideas here
    are wrong, please let me know.
    
    Dawn
    

    re: .7
    	Neither my parents nor myself agreed with her choice of husband
    or religion. I do support her right to choose.
    
    	And the people at her church have been very supportive of her
    in her eventual choice of divorce. A solicitor and his wife provided
    shelter for her and her children during the worse moments, and provided
    her with free advice as to how she could best secure her rights
    during the divorce, in spite of the fact that he no doubt disapproves
    of it too.

    The response below is also from the author of .8, who not unexpectedly
    still wishes to remain anonymous. 
    
                               			=maggie
    
    =================================================================
    
    I wanted to reiterate what was most helpful to me because I don't 
    think I'm all that different from Anywoman in a Similar Situation.

    	1. an avenue of escape

    	2. hearing someone say, impersonally, that no behavior 
           warrants physical violence

    (I agree that there are instances in which this is not exactly 
    true, e.g., if the behavior we're talking about is someone coming
    at you with a knife, then yes it's OK to use physical violence
    to defend yourself.  Why did I bother to say that?)

    Anyway, it's all well and good (and true) to say to someone "You 
    don't deserve that!" or "You haven't done anything so bad that he 
    has a right to hurt you!"  Back then, if someone had said that to 
    me, I might have thought (and probably did) 'But you don't know 
    the awful thing I've done.  You don't know how bad I really am.'

    Saying "You don't deserve that!" implies that some _do_ deserve 
    "that," and since the one doing the talking doesn't know how bad 
    I've been, it's real easy to conclude 'I have done something "so 
    bad" I _do_ deserve it.'

    Saying "no behavior warrants physical violence" also makes no
    judgement about the battering partner.  Regardless of what has 
    happened, that partner may have once been dearly and passionately 
    loved.  The battered partner still has that memory, and is very 
    likely clinging to it desperately.  And, too, after the "fight," 
    there is very often an intensely emotional "make up" scene.  I 
    think we all know how sweet making up can be after a disagreement.

    Re: .9  Thanks, I'm trying.

    Re: .10  

    Money wasn't a big factor for me.  I was able to support myself on 
    my paycheck.  The credit card bills went unpaid for quite awhile and
    I've got to rebuild a good credit rating because of it (it took me 
    about 5 years to get out from under that mountain) but I was able to
    give myself the basics.  If I hadn't been able to, I'm sure it would
    have taken me longer to leave because I would've had to depend on 
    Unknown Others to help.  Kids would make it harder all around, but 
    very often they can be the impetus for getting out quicker, too.

    I've had those thoughts about "can't please a man/can't keep a man"
    but it didn't really carry any weight in my situation.  However, I 
    didn't want to fail.  In all situations, I have a bit of difficulty 
    knowing when it's time to quit.

    I snuck away the way I did because there was no way we coud've sat
    down and just talked (or screamed or yelled) about divorce.

    I left my husband almost 20 years ago.  When I got married I had
    heard of husbands abusing there wives and told mine that if and
    when he chose to hit me, that ther would never be a second opportunity
    to do so.  I suffered a lot of mental abuse with a lot of threats
    of physical abuse. Seven years into the marriage he struck me, I
    told him right then through a swollen jaw, we are done.  It was
    February, the middle of a blizzard and 2 days before payday. I didn,t
    have enough money for cab fare to leave. My kids were 5 and 7years
    at the time.  
    
    Thank God for my family.  I called my brother, told him that I was
    on my way (by cab with no money) with my kids and could he please
    pick up the cab fare. I arrived at his house with a overnite bag
    and 2 kids.  I have 60+ first cousins, and after a few phone calls
    was assured of support, My brother went to my husband and strongly
    suggested the he leave quietly. I returned to my appartment 2 days
    later to find him gone, the lights shut off, the fuel tank empty,
    refrig. empty and the rent not payed.  The family pooled together
    and paid the rent, filld the fuel tank, and turned on the lights.
    I then had my pay check and picked up from there.  I knew that my
    family would never let us starve or freeze.  
    
    It was a long painful process getting on my feet, and I stumbled
    a lot trying, but my family was always there.  I am extremely close
    to about 12 to 15 of my cousins almost like siblings, and we all
    support each other.  A while back there was som discussion about
    family relationships, mine is the greatest, I can't imagine what
    it is like going through life with out this kind of support. 

    I don't think it fair for anyone that hasn't dealt with this problem
    to reply to the question!
    
    I went through it and hope to God no one else has to suffer that
    way.
    
    The fear is real, the mental abuse is real and in my case, the father
    was jealous of the attention I showed our daughter.
    
    For three years I lived with this fear, the fear that this idiot
    would kill me.  He followed me out (hid in my car), harrassed me
    at work (phone calls and waiting in the parkling lot), the beating
    and the mental stress, all of this was a reality and had me petrified.
    I'd move and he'd find me (3x's).  Eventually, you get tired of
    running and deal with it.  
    
    When I asked the police (LAPD) how to handle situation (after he
    had come through my kitchen window), their response was; Since that's
    his child we don't want to get involved, if you shoot him, pull
    him into the house.
    
    AT THAT TIME, THOSE WERE MY CHOICES!!!!!!!  
    
    FEAR KEPT ME IN THAT SITUATION UNTIL I DECIDED EITHER YOU'RE GOING
    TO KILL ME, OR ME YOU!!!!!
    
    That scared him so bad, he left!  Not all of these situations end
    this way, but after years of analyzing and trying to decide what
    the h--l was happening, it was definitely his problem and insecurities.
    I'm a stronger person for the experience, but what a way to learn!
    
    but what a way 

    While I was never battered by a boyfriend or husband, I did grow
    up in a family where both parents were physically and sexually abusive
    to their children and where my father was physically violent towards
    my mother.
    
    It is hard for me to empathize with my mother because of the abuse
    I endured at her hands (and even harder to empathize with my father),
    but I do remember several things which have given me some insight
    into her situation.
    
    My mother confided in me since I was nine years old.  I cannot ever
    remember a time in my childhood when the threat of violence did
    not hang over us all.  My mother used to ask me how I would feel
    if they divorced.  I always encouraged her to get the divorce but
    it never happened until I left the family to go to college (she
    began divorce proceedings two weeks after I left).
    
    I remember my mother being afraid that my father would kill her.
    She said he was very jealous and that if she ever tried to leave
    him he would take a contract out on her or kill her himself.  Once
    when I was four, my mother and I were run off the road and she swore
    that it was my father's car that did it.  His violence was such
    that my mother could only believe that he would really do it if
    she tried to leave.  I know that if he had said it to me I would
    have believed him, especially after the number of times when he
    came so close to strangling me that I lost consciousness or after
    the time when he broke a rib by kicking me.
    
    My mother was also afraid of the money situation.  She grew up in
    a very poor environment and for the first time in her life she didn't
    have to worry about money.  She spent the Depression years eeking
    out a living with her family in Missouri on a farm.  She said that
    she had checked into what she might receive in alimony and that
    the most she could hope for was $1 monthly.  This was because she
    worked for very high wages as the Treasurer of my parents company.
    She did not feel that she could get a job that would pay enough
    money.  The only place she had worked was at their company.  I think
    her lack of self-esteem played into this so much that she seriously
    minimized the qualifications she had to get another job.  She also
    said that no one would give her a job because my father had blackballed
    her and that other businessmen in the Washington area were afraid
    of my father.
    
    She used to tell us kids that she stayed with my father for us.
    She used that against us by saying that we should be grateful that
    she cared enough about us to endure the abuse.  She also told us
    that we were the cause of all the abuse and all her problems.  I
    don't know if she really believed that, but I think she felt she
    would have been free to go if we weren't there as responsibilities
    of hers.
    
    Another thing which kept her from leaving was me.  I was her confidant.
    Whenever she needed me, I was there.  I gave her every support I
    possibly could.  By the time I was 11, I did all the cooking, washing,
    cleaning, laundry, etc.  I was her friend (she never had any friends).
    She would tell me about everything in her life.  Most importantly,
    when my father would beat up on her, I saved her life - many times.
    I would call the police when I heard her calling my name.  When
    I got older I would go in and break up the fight myself by yelling
    at my father to stop.  I don't know why he never hit me for that
    (everything else, but not for stopping their fights).  Maybe he
    was glad that I stopped him.  Maybe he was afraid of what he might
    do and was glad I was there.  In any case, I sometimes wonder if
    I had not been so supportive of my mother if she would have stayed
    in there so long.

    
    re .21
    
    whew, that must have been hard to write.
    Lee

    Hard to live, easy to write.