Sally Spicer: We’re asking the wrong questions when it comes to domestic and family violence

To better support domestic violence victim-survivors, investigative journalist Sally Spicer implores us to start asking the right ones.

TW: Discussion of domestic violence

Recently, in the lazy shade of an awning at a backyard barbecue, one of my oldest friends asked me a question: “What makes a person vulnerable to abuse from their partner?” My reply was more biting than I meant it to be.

“That’s the wrong question.”

Then I took a beat and reminded myself I was with friends, not in an online comment section. I told her that in my experience, there is only one common denominator that makes a person vulnerable to abuse: giving someone you love the benefit of the doubt. 

The truth is every single one of us could fall in love with someone who chooses to hurt us – physically, emotionally, sexually, financially. Generally speaking, it’s also a truth we don’t like to think about. Australia’s National Community Attitudes Survey in 2021 found that while 91 percent of people agree that domestic and family violence is a nation-wide problem, only 47 percent believe it’s a problem in their own suburb or town. 

We recognise that it’s a problem, but we don’t recognise that it infiltrates our own circles. 

An estimated 4.2 million people in Australia have been physically, sexually or emotionally abused by a co-habiting partner since the age of 15. That’s more than one in five people. Domestic and family violence is very much ‘all of our problem’. 

I began reporting on domestic and family violence for FW (Future Women) four years ago. For the last 13 months, I’ve been investigating how abuse manifests after a relationship ends. Of the dozens of victim-survivors I’ve interviewed, I’m yet to meet one who wasn’t asked some variation of, “Why didn’t you just leave?” 

Again, this is the wrong question. 

From a distance, it’s easy to claim you’d leave the minute someone you cared about became abusive – to pinpoint a moment and assert that you’d “never put up with that kind of treatment”. It’s incredibly easy to distil a messy tapestry of life and love into distinct moments with obvious solutions when you’re not the one living it. 

The reality, as one survivor told me, more closely resembles a pot of boiling water. You’re fine, and then you’re not. And try as you might, you can’t pinpoint the moment you started feeling unsafe in your own body. In your own home. 

You don’t know if they’re doing it on purpose, if they can change, if you’re a bad person for ‘abandoning’ them. 

Add to this the dangers of separation. Leaving is recognised as one of the most dangerous times for victim-survivors – when the risk that a perpetrator will seriously injure or kill either the woman trying to escape, or a person they care about, is high. One analysis of cases where a male perpetrator had killed a woman he was in a relationship with found that more than a third of victims had separated less than three months beforehand. 

Staying in an abusive relationship is not some kind of pitiable surrender. This decision results from the kind of agonising strategising no one should ever have to do, where the stakes are life or death. 

Abuse doesn’t end when a relationship does – it transforms. During our investigation, I uncovered that Victoria Police has received more domestic violence incident reports about former partners than current ones for the last four years. Systems abuse – where courts or authorities are weaponised against a victim-survivor, forcing them to defend themselves against vexatious claims – is most likely to happen post-separation. 

Financial abuse is present in up to an estimated 90 percent of cases of abuse and the cost of leaving, according to a 2017 study by the Australian Council of Trade Unions, is $18,000. The impact of “just leaving” is profound. 

When we truly understand the realities of abuse – and the risks of separation – these questions answer themselves. 

Victim-survivors are asked why they didn’t just leave and what made them vulnerable to abuse. But how many have been asked what would have helped them leave safely? 

Sally Spicer is an award-winning journalist and podcast producer, and Communications Director at FW. She is the executive producer of There’s No Place Like Home: After She Leaves, available wherever you get your podcasts. 

If you or anyone you know is affected by domestic, family or sexual violence and needs support, please call 1800 RESPECT.

Top photo source: Supplied. Pictured: Sally Spicer

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