October, which has nearly run its course, is Domestic Violence Awareness month. So, it might be a good time to remember it for all the right reasons. Domestic violence, by any definition, is no different than a deadly virus that ends life but also infects countless others in ways that not only are predictable but, also, generational.
While the exact numbers might change, though not dramatically, each year this pervasive reality ends, ruins or, in some way, compromises the quality of lives of those in its concentricity. It is, in its own way, a daily, deadly war waged in households.
As an example, between 2001 and 2012, when American troops were prosecuting two wars—Afghanistan and Iraq—6,488 Americans were killed. During the same period back in the U.S., 11,766 women—the likely casualty in a relationship—were killed by their domestic partners. According to the Violence Policy Center, an average of three women are killed as a result of domestic violence each day in America.
Domestic violence, experts say, is like the proverbial ‘ghost at the banquet.’ It is a societal issue—perhaps nearing epidemic levels—but not enough people are willing to speak openly about it.
Angie Ceseña, Executive Director of Denver’s Latina Safehouse, wants to remove the stigma and shine light on this domestic taboo. “It’s important to address,” she said. Too often domestic violence only rises to a full discussion when it has escalated to a loss of life, an all-too-common outcome especially among Latinas.
According to the Centers for Disease Control, four in ten women are or have been victims of domestic violence. For Latinas, the issue is even more dangerous. One in three Latinas, said Ceseña, is a victim. But men are not immune from escaping this vortex. The CDC says one in ten men will experience domestic violence.
While domestic violence is certainly an American tragedy, its tentacles spread across borders. In India, it has been reported, that as many as 25,000 wives are burned to death each year by their partners or their partner’s family. It is an ancient and fatally perverse response connected to dowry, a tradition in which the bride’s family pays the groom’s family with gifts of cash or goods upon marriage. When a dowry is considered to meager, oftentimes violence follows. In Pakistan, 5,000 women die each year this way and this eye-popping statistic has every chance of rising even higher. As many as nine in ten Pakistani women have suffered spousal abuse. Every continent has its own horror stories anchored to this act of violence.
Ceseña, who came to her job six years ago following a few years in Paraguay in the Peace Corps, said just as the nation responded to the pandemic and addressed it pragmatically, it should treat domestic violence similarly. “It’s important to address it…ask what are the red flags…look at family dynamics.” Only then, she said, are its victims going to look for ways to escape before the unimaginable happens.
While not genetically programmed nor an act automatically committed by men, domestic violence has its own insidious way of becoming a generational issue. “It doesn’t mean that the son will be abusive,” she said. What it does mean is that familial domestic violence witnessed by young children often is seen as normal behavior. “We see a perpetuation of the cycle.”
Domestic violence is also not a curse inflicted only on Latinos despite the word ‘machismo’ often connected to this act. “Machismo, oftentimes, we confuse with our culture,” said Ceseña. “It’s trauma that has been passed on…simply a toxic cycle.” “It crosses both cultural and ethnic boundaries.”
Ceseña says while it’s important to openly discuss this tragic reality, we also must assign accountability. “The perpetrator who is committing these violence acts,” she said, “must learn they need help.” It is the only way to break this generational cycle, she said.
While the break in some relationships comes with a death—and usually the woman—it is not a uniform conclusion. Domestic violence, at its worst, often ends with the deaths of entire families. Or, as it did in just days ago in Louisville, with the death of the perpetrator.
On Sunday morning, a woman called Louisville police to report a domestic violence situation. The Denver Post reported when police arrived and began interviewing the parties, “they saw blood and potential knife wounds and responded to his threats by firing their weapons.” The shots were fatal.
As a state, Colorado’s domestic violence rates, including deaths, rank near the middle of all states. Still, in 2020, domestic violence accounted for 63 deaths. According to the Colorado Domestic Violence Review Board, 35 deaths were at the hands of intimate partners, 24 were perpetrators of domestic violence and 4 were collateral victims. The CDVRB also said that 15 cases in 2020 involved attempted murders or near-deaths. The 2020 domestic violence deaths were the second highest numbers over the previous five years.
Unfortunately, said Ceseña, the true numbers associated with domestic violence will never reflect the true state of the problem because too many people—victims and perpetrators—are either ashamed to talk about it or too embarrassed to take responsibility for it.
To end this cycle of violence, said Ceseña, the time to talk about it now, before it tragically creates one more victim or ends one more life.
