I’m accustomed to speaking about taboo topics and leading difficult conversations. In my clinical practice as a psychologist, these discussions are increasingly about gender-based violence. Sadly, I’m no longer shocked at the extent or type of abuse perpetrated against women, families and intimate partners. What surprises me, however, is the silence that often surrounds these behaviours.
Too often I find myself saying, “that sounds abusive”, “what you’re describing is coercive control” or “violence isn’t just physical”. Tellingly, people are often quick to downplay a perpetrator’s behaviour. This may be through justification (“they’d had a hard day at work”), minimisation (“it’s just words, they would never hit me”), or self-blame (“I said something that set them off”).
Gender-based violence is insidious.
Too often within families and relationships this behaviour becomes ingrained and normalised, making it all the more difficult to recognise and discuss. I should know. A friend once had the same conversation with me that I have with many patients. Hearing her observations of abusive behaviour in my own relationship was the hardest discussion in our long friendship. In retrospect, her honesty and advocacy was vital to helping me realise the reality of behaviours that I had justified, minimised or blamed myself for.
But I never blame patients for lack of insight about the behaviour inflicted upon them.
It is all too easy to judge others’ lives and decisions from a safe distance. Often, people experiencing gender-based violence cannot see the forest for the trees. Enduring an abusive relationship is akin to being caught in a rip; it is impossible for the distressed swimmer to navigate towards the safe waters so easily spotted from the shoreline.
Like the occupants of a house remaining fast asleep during a fire; flames are licking at the door but its inhabitants are oblivious to the heat and smoke. Closeness breeds subjectivity, distance brings much-needed objectivity.
Abuse loves secrecy. It thrives on shame, and is perpetuated by silence. Abuse wants us all to look away. To turn a blind eye to a bruise, ignore a broken bone, discount a shattered psyche. Isolating victims from friends and family is a common strategy for perpetrators; destroying a person’s social connections is a tragically effective way to implement yet another barrier to leaving a relationship.
That’s why it is so integral to have these conversations about gender-based violence and what it comprises. And we must keep having these conversations, at a societal level but also with individuals. Personally and professionally, I understand the frustration when a person signals their intent to leave a relationship or change a behaviour, and then does not do so. This can be demoralising for those who initiated those difficult conversations or offered other support. But leaving any relationship (even those that are not violent or abusive) is often easier said than done.
Keep the conversation going. Repeat statements until the truth is acknowledged. “Your partner tracks your location on your phone, and you’re ‘not allowed’ to stay out past 9pm?” “All your wage goes into their bank account, and then you’re given a small allowance?” Ask them what they would tell you to do, if the tables were turned. At some point, the message will stick.
Recognition of the behaviour is the first step; a conversation can help a victim of gender-based violence reach this. Next, contemplation, planning and, eventually, action. Most of us who have tried to kick a habit – say, smoking or drinking, or even cutting down on screen time – know that it takes a few cycles to fully cease a behaviour. These attempts are not failures, but instead opportunities to strengthen resolve, develop coping strategies, and build capacity.
I got out of an abusive relationship. That is in no small part thanks to my friend initiating that difficult discussion. Be that person to someone. Have that conversation. Say those things that otherwise will go unspoken. We must not diffuse the responsibility of talking about gender-based violence. It is not somebody else’s problem. And it is never the fault of the person being subjected to it.
Clearly, more is needed to resolve the national crisis of gender-based violence. But in the absence of a social revolution or a reversal of the collective behaviour of perpetrators, a conversation is a practical and accessible starting point. This remains incumbent of us all – if you see something, say something.
Dr Bianca Denny is a clinical psychologist based in Melbourne. She is the author of the forthcoming book Talk To Me: Lessons from Patients and their Therapist.
