Stop Victim-Shaming

My ex was verbally abusive to me during our 14-year marriage. Not all the time. Not at the beginning of the relationship. Not usually in front of other people. But I caught punishment from him—verbal and emotional—when he was displeased with me, and I often didn’t know what would set him off.

Two years ago, I got out of the marriage and have been focusing on processing and healing, and as part of that process, have been sharing some of what I endured through stories here. But we have to talk about the victim-blaming and -shaming that comes along with opening up about trauma we’ve endured.

I have had several readers question if things were that bad, why did I put up with it for so long? One even specifically pointed out that he wasn’t trying to blame me for what I’d been through, but he then turned around and did just that, implying that I am weak for tolerating the abuse from my ex. This commenter said, “I’m sad you went through this, but honestly, why did you put up with it for so long?” Then he pointed out that his wife is strong and would never put up with the treatment from him, so why did I?

I’m glad his wife wouldn’t tolerate these behaviors. And going into my marriage, I didn’t think I’d allow someone to treat me like this either. I consider myself a strong person and was better about setting boundaries when I first met my Was-band than I was about enforcing them later in our relationship. I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten, or how shrunken and diminished I felt in the relationship until I got out and had distance and time to heal and expand again. I didn’t realize that despite being the primary breadwinner for the majority of our relationship, I was asking him for permission to buy everything: “Can we go get frozen yogurt? Can I buy a new pair of boots since my old ones have holes?” Just like how he talked to me and treated me, this wasn’t abrupt; it was a gradual slide. I have seen physically abusive relationships, and this was not that. I didn’t realize that mental and emotional abuse and control could be almost as insidious, but I kept telling myself that what I was enduring “wasn’t that bad.” Outside perspective and being in a safe place to reflect makes me aghast at some of the things my ex said and did—that I tolerated—but I didn’t have that emotional distance when I was in the thick of it.

Then there is the hopeful romantic side of me: When the relationship had started with my ex, everything had been different. He and I were not the same people that we became by the end, and I was still hoping that he’d go back to being the guy I’d initially met and married. For nearly a decade, I hung on to that hope, before it dawned on me that I wasn’t living in the present moment of my relationship and had a murky future, and couldn’t count on him changing for the better.

And what I’ve been through is small potatoes compared to what so many other people suffer. I told myself that this is what marriage is, and to be grateful for the blessings in my life. I told myself that it wasn’t that bad and that I could handle it—or change things if I was so inclined. But I didn’t realize that once I was out of it, people would start to question what I did to invite his controlling behavior, or why I tolerated being treated like that, or why I didn’t leave sooner. I didn’t realize that I would still feel guilt for my share of what happened in the relationship, as well as for moving on—further piled on by anonymous people who read snippets of my story. I didn’t realize that victim-shaming and victim-blaming are still alive and well, and while I want to reject the title of a victim (because it implies powerlessness, and I’d like to think that I am strong), there are others for whom freedom is more tenuous and this treatment from well-meaning bystanders can feel stifling, and like more of what they received in their toxic relationships.

So please, stop inflicting additional trauma on those who open up to you about the abuse they’ve received, even if you think it wasn’t that bad. Even if you think they might have done something to bring it on themselves. Even if you’re frustrated with them for taking so long to make a change. Even if you know the abuser and don’t think they’re capable of traumatizing someone else. Trust me, we already question ourselves enough before we take any steps toward freedom. We already blame ourselves. And, likely, whatever we have shared with you about what we’ve endured is only the tip of the iceberg of what we faced.

The best thing you can do is listen with an open mind and an open heart. The best thing you can do is tell us that you’re glad we got out and offer tangible help—a safe place to stay, or a listening ear, or help packing to move, or whatever else we tell you we need if we can ask for help (so often we feel adrift alone and have learned that we can’t rely on anyone else.) That’s how you can best be an ally.

—

This post was previously published on medium.com.

***