Reclaiming the Activist Roots of the Anti-Violence Movement
The Scope of The Problem
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and as it comes to a close, I want to talk more about the history of the movement and where we are today. Domestic violence or intimate partner violence (IPV) is a widespread problem, affecting 12 million people in the US each year. The WHO has declared violence against women, including IPV and sexual assault to be "a global problem of pandemic proportions."
By now, most of us are aware of the issue, and fortunately, talking about IPV has become more commonplace and normalized. Recently, the Me Too movement brought much needed awareness about the prevalence of sexual violence and discussions about consent to the forefront of our society. Sexual violence and IPV are woven into the fabric of this country, connected together as threads of the same tapestry of oppression. However, there is still much work to be done to educate and move society's understanding of IPV, as it is complex and nuanced, and despite its widespread nature, many people still incorrectly view IPV as a personal circumstance.
From the Grassroots to the Ivory Tower
The foundation of our society's infrastructure related to IPV programs and services can be traced back to the Battered Women's Movement. Galvanized by the existing landscape of social rebellion of the 1950s and 60s, feminist activists and survivors began to push for legal and cultural changes to protect the rights of survivors, create crisis resources, and change the dominant narrative about abuse. Women's liberation activists engaged in consciousness raising groups, which created a space for women to talk about issues previously deemed "personal," like abuse, leading to collective consciousness and empowerment. While there were many limitations to feminist activism during this period (including the exclusion of BIPOC, poor, and disabled voices), the anti-violence movement today has shifted away from its origins of social rebellion and the intersection of other key issues like reproductive justice, environmental justice, and economic/labor justice.
Theoretical and structural anti-violence work began with survivors of abuse sharing their stories and rallying together to change the way our society deals with IPV. However, most of the "work” related to IPV today is within the confines of ivory tower academics or highly professionalized nonprofit organizations. At least, that’s the work we know about, the work that is celebrated and prioritized. Some of this is actually the result of major achievements in the movement. The passage of the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA) in 1994 and subsequent reauthorizations have been instrumental in acknowledging the importance of the issue and have provided much needed guaranteed resources allocated to IPV and sexual violence programs across the US. It has also, however, helped shape what is now a highly regulated field of similarly-structured organizations and programs, who are often reliant on and fighting each other for the the grant money it provides.
This has led to a revolving door of seeking and maintaining grant funding, and programs and services are being built around what they have been told is most important by those giving out the dollars. There are also often restrictions and limitations to grant-funded work, and the people who end up being most impacted by it are the very survivors these programs are serving. A great example of this would be financial assistance for survivors. Those seeking it through governmental or grant-funded programs may wait days, weeks, or months for assistance, while unrestricted and mutual aid funds are often available immediately for survivors with minimal (if any) requirements or stipulations.
Additionally, the separation of governmental funding streams have made most programs lean into one area of expertise, i.e., IPV or sexual violence, and those who focus on both issues are seen as outliers in the field. And while there are critical nuances among varying types of violence that should not be erased or undermined, we are losing so much opportunity to address common root causes and find common solutions to gender-based and interpersonal violence with this type of funding categorization. We have so highly professionalized this work that we've tried to weave separate tapestries for IPV, sexual violence, child abuse, human trafficking, elder abuse, and more. We've decided all these fabrics can be hung up and displayed next to each other as equals, but in doing so, we have removed the intricate detail; we've lost sight of the ways these threads overlap and conjoin with every stitch.
Theory-Praxis Nexus
As an undergraduate student, I always envisioned I’d get my PhD and become a professor, researcher, and writer. Then, as a graduate student, the deeper I delved into the coursework and my internship as a Victim Advocate, the more compelled I felt to ensure I had more hands-on experience with the subject matter. I was learning about the activist roots of anti-violence work and then reading highly theoretical writings about it. These subjects affected the lives of real people, real bodies and spirits being injured, real victims and survivors, most of whom would never come close to reading the words on the page, let alone benefitting from them. I knew I wanted to do and learn more about the praxis of interpersonal violence, about what was being done and said in practice out in the world.
There are places and moments in this work where theory and praxis naturally intersect, and some organizations have historically integrated theory and praxis, for example the YWCA. In fact, some of the most impactful works or tools have been created out of direct conversations with both survivors and abusers. An example of this is Lundy Bancroft’s book Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men, first published in 2002. This book has validated the experiences of countless survivors and helps frame abusive behavior in the context of patterns and tactics. It draws from numerous accounts of abusive men and weaves in conceptual content but is written with a voice and perspective that is accessible to survivors and everyday people.
A seminal example of the intersection of lived experience, praxis, and theory is the Power and Control Wheel, developed by Domestic Abuse Intervention Programs (or the Duluth Model) in 1984. As co-creator of the wheel Ellen Pence explains, this resource was created out of many conversations with survivors about their experiences in abusive relationships (access a transcript of the video here). The Power and Control Wheel, to this day, serves as a foundational concept in IPV-related work, whether in praxis with survivors or in theoretical exploration.
While we have more access to open source and short form material like social media and digital news stories, we are still missing this deeper connection between the “work” and the people for whom the work is about: survivors. We are missing critical information from everyday survivors and missing the opportunities to create new and useful resources based on their lived experiences and expertise. While there is incredible survivor leadership across this country and survivor-centered frameworks are becoming standardized in this field, there is still a disconnect from the inputs and outputs of the work.
My assessment and critique of the current landscape is not intended to undermine the invaluable work being done on the ground with survivors in programs across the country. In fact, I believe this work is what matters most. I wonder what other groundbreaking information and tools might be created, how the needle might leap forward, if these programs could spend less time following meager funding with predetermined priorities and more time following the stories, experiences, and expertise of survivors.
Tiffany has lived experience and has worked within anti-violence organizations. She available for consultation, assessment, and training for those seeking to create meaningful and sustainable change. You can also support this work by joining her Patreon.
