Domestic abuse is everywhere in social work

Domestic abuse is everywhere in social work, no matter what area you work in. It knows no cultural, geographic, class or race boundaries.

When I started out as a social worker in a children and families team, I hadn’t had any training on domestic abuse. There had been no element in my master’s course which addressed the causes, consequences or dynamics. No training was offered when I entered employment. Neither did I seek any out. I assumed I knew what domestic abuse was. Two adults fighting and arguing wasn’t it? One of them (usually male) assaulting the other. I knew it couldn’t be a pleasant situation to be in. I knew it contravened human rights and that physical assault was against the law. I also knew a little bit about the impact on children, insofar as the impact of witnessing any sort of violence and aggression is distressing and traumatic. So that’s what I did know (or assumed). Now for what I didn’t know….

I didn’t realise that domestic abuse was probably going on in most families I worked with. I didn’t contemplate the fact that women experiencing domestic abuse have very little if any control over their lives, and that they often don’t have a choice about whether they stay or go. I didn’t appreciate the extent of the fear, shame and humiliation women experience as a result of coercive control. I wasn’t aware of the enormity of the impact on children, even if they don’t witness it and even if it’s not physical. I didn’t appreciate that emotional abuse is in fact often much more distressing and debilitating than physical abuse. I didn’t know that many women say they can handle the physical assaults because they know where they stand, but the pervasive fear, threats and intimidation are the worst things to live with. I had not considered that separation does not guarantee safety where domestic abuse is an issue, and that indeed it often triggers an escalation.

I hadn’t yet heard children say that they often deliberately position themselves so that they can see what’s going on. That it’s better to know what’s happening than to be in another room imagining the worst, wondering if this is the time things will go too far. It hadn’t dawned on me that persuading a woman I was “supporting” to leave her home, her community and everything she’s ever known to move 100 miles away to a refuge with her children (telling her that if she didn’t, she might lose care of her children) was perpetuating the control her husband was exerting over her. That particular woman wrote to me a year later to thank me for getting her out of the situation. She told me she was gradually building a new life and settling her children into their new community, and that she couldn’t have done it without my support. When I look at that letter now, I realise that there could have been other, more empowering ways to help her get safe. The action taken probably further compounded her sense of powerlessness over her life and that of her children. The fact that she thanked me makes me feel terribly sad. How different could the outcome have been if I had truly appreciated what she was going through and really been on her side? If I had understood that she didn’t stay in an abusive relationship because she wanted to or out of a sense of duty. She stayed because she had no alternative. I gave her an alternative, but only one, and it wasn’t based on what she or her children truly wanted or needed. It was centred round what a group of well-intentioned professionals considered was in her best interests and that of her children. As for their father, he barely got a look in. He wasn’t the one sobbing his eyes out at case conferences while those around him criticised his choices and made him feel like he was failing to protect his own children - she was. He wasn’t the one made to face the consequences of his choices – she was. He carried on with his life without being held to account for the misery and trauma he chose to inflict on others.

So, what happened to change my perception and ultimately my practice? I moved to a project which worked specifically with women and children who had experienced domestic abuse. It was one of the first CEDAR (Children Experiencing Domestic Abuse Recovery) projects in Scotland, a pilot initially, which is still going strong. As well as receiving specialist training in the dynamics and impact of domestic abuse on women and children, I was now in the privileged position of hearing first-hand the experiences of those who had survived it. I began to build a better understanding of what it can be like to live day in and day out with little or no control over your own life. I learned about some of the tactics that abusers use to isolate and degrade women, until they feel worthless and ashamed, and powerless to change their situation. I finally understood that in order to fully support a woman in such a situation, you need to get alongside her, really listen to her experiences and feelings, and partner with her to make a safety plan which can work for her. Admittedly, there can on occasion be circumstances so severe they warrant removing children to ensure their immediate safety, but this is not and cannot be the norm.

You don’t have to work in a dedicated service to understand what is helpful to people experiencing domestic abuse. As with all social work, the key to intervening successfully is relationships. Establish trust and respect, listen and acknowledge and empower the person experiencing the abuse to come up with a solution. If the non-abusing parent is supported, so ultimately will the children. And don’t forget the perpetrator. He needs to be held to account for his behaviour, to be visible in all forums in which the abuse is discussed and be given the opportunity to account for himself and to engage in steps to reform.