You Didn’t Talk About This At The Country Club
Updated October 12, 2014
“Kit, it might be good if you’d provide a statistic. I’m no expert, but it’s my understanding that domestic violence only affects poor, uneducated people. Lawyers, doctors, and professors do not beat their wives and children.” Sociology professor to Kit Gruelle
One of the scenes I found most compelling when I was looking at footage a couple of years ago for the upcoming HBO documentary “Private Violence” is the one above. My friend, colleague, and narrator, subject and special adviser to the film, reads this from her sociology professor in a scene we hope will challenge one of the age old myths of domestic violence- that it doesn’t happen to people who grew up like me.
I was raised in a family of privilege in the 1950’s, 60’s, and early 70’s in a small city in Iowa. We had a lovely home with a swimming pool, in a pretty neighborhood. My father owned his family cattle business, my mother was a community volunteer and a member of the Junior League. My parents’ friends were CEO’s, doctors, lawyers, and “pillars of the community”. We had great vacations, summer camp, and college educations provided. We spent much of our time at the Country Club, playing with the children of those pillars of the community.
I don’t think I’d ever heard much about family violence. I’d never seen it in my home, because there wasn’t any. I don’t remember any friends who ever spoke of it. It just wasn’t discussed. As Gloria Steinem says frequently, “there was no word for domestic violence, it was just called “life”. It wasn’t a life I knew.
The first time I heard from a victim of this secret subject was when I was in my first year of college. The story was from an older woman, I’ve just called her “Emma” when I’ve told her story.
Emma was a neighbor, a woman of wealth and position, a college graduate with a lovely home, a grandmother. Emma was the May Queen at her University, where she graduated in 1922. She was knocked down by her husband in the hallway in that lovely home in the 60’s, and hospitalized with a broken back. The man wasn’t her first husband, they had no children together, and she was fortunate as she had means, owned the home, and was able to get him out of the home with the help of family. So many women aren’t that fortunate. He was never charged with anything. Few men like him were in those days.
I was stunned by her story, and was certain that this was a rare case, particularly among people like that… like us. My social work education and career opened my eyes to the scourge of family violence, the victims, the perpetrators and the kids permanently scarred who witnessed it. Perhaps this fueled my later support of violence prevention. Or perhaps it was for Emma, who had her back broken.
One of the myths of domestic violence is that there is what my friend, colleague, and long time domestic violence victim’s advocate Kit Gruelle , receiver of the rather stunning note above, calls “the typical victim”. She scoffs at that phrase. To her the “typical victim” isn’t typical, and whatever the unenlightened think it is, as she says musically, “it ain’t that”. And, it isn’t.
We still too often see “that” victim as poor, struggling, and uneducated, as did her professor, when she was completing a degree in social work. The note wasn’t written in the 1960’s. It was a couple of years ago. And though Kit says today that many of her teachers were absolutely amazing and well versed in domestic violence, this one, a PhD in Sociology, wasn’t.
When we began gathering stories for a history project of just a few of the millions of victims of domestic abuse, Kit wanted to make sure we had footage of women who’ve experienced abuse who didn’t fit “the profile”. She knew of many. She can leave the names off and tell you their stories. She found one during the filming, who not only told us her story, but told readers of story in her book “Crazy Love”, told countless interviewers, and recently told close to a million people via a TED talk. Her name is Leslie Morgan Steiner and her talk, viewed over 2,000,000 times is here. http://www.ted.com/talks/leslie_morgan_steiner_why_domestic_violence_victims_don_t_leave.html. It’s powerful, it’s honest, and it’s worth watching.
Leslie, in 2009 to CNN, summarized the attitudes some of us still have of families with power, stature, wealth, or celebrity. It was shortly after after the highly publicized story of the assault of Rihanna by Chris Brown, “ Like Rihanna, I had a bright future in my early 20s. I met my abusive lover at 22. I’d just graduated from Harvard and had a job at Seventeen Magazine in New York. My husband worked on Wall Street and was an Ivy League graduate as well. In our world, we were the last couple you’d imagine enmeshed in domestic violence.”
She’s right. We wrap a bubble around those of status, fortune, fame and privilege. We have footage from years ago of Senator Patrick Leahy, a longtime sponsor and supporter of the Violence Against Women Act, talking about that bubble. He speaks of people who don’t want to think it happens in the house next door and says, “It DOES happen in your town, it DOES happen in your neighborhood..” And it does.
Dr. Susan Weitzman, who spent years researching what she calls “upscale violence”, and authored the 2000 book “Not to People Like Us: Hidden Abuse in Upscale Marriages” http://drsusanweitzman.com/ has profiles of both victim and perpetrator on her site. She echoes much of what Kit Gruelle has to say about what Dr. Jeanne King calls “Domestic Violence, Tiffany’s Style”. There are specific challenges to this type of case, including societal disbelief, peer pressure to remain silent, and the difficulty of taking on someone with wealth, position, and power. Gruelle says, “Because their husbands are men of position and this guy has a very public persona, it adds another complex layer for the victims. Everyone in the community has their mind made up about this guy.”
As more high profile cases of abuse “Tiffany’s style” keep coming to light, it’s worth remembering that the “typical victim” isn’t so typical any more and perhaps never was. I still go to the Country Club with my mother, and I sometimes look around the jovial and gentile crowd and think about the stories that might always be hidden, that may never be talked about, but stories and experiences surely, for the victims and the families, that won’t be forgotten.
Emma, this one is for you.
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