Transcriber: Lữ Gia Hân Reviewer: Trần Thái Hưng
I’m a big 6 ft 3 police officer.
Most people wouldn’t look at me
and think that I could be a victim of domestic violence (DV).
I didn’t think I could be either.
Yet, here I am as proof
that domestic violence can happen to anyone.
I felt ashamed, I felt invisible
and I felt stupid that I didn’t end up in this position,
but I now know that domestic violence can happen to anyone.
It doesn’t matter what your job is,
how much money you earn,
your gender identity, your sexuality,
your religion or your cultural background.
Domestic violence is here
and it’s harming our very own LGBTQ friends,
family members and work colleagues
every day.
Up to one in two LGBTQ people
will be in a violent or abusive relationship
at some time in their life.
One in two.
Despite these incredibly alarming figures,
there’s still an enormous lack of awareness about this issue.
For me, I felt helpless.
I had no idea what to do or where to go for support.
I really just fumbled through my own.
Domestic violence in LGBTQ relationships
is commonly not identified or seen as abuse,
and there’s a massive lack of awareness about the issue.
LGBTQ people are the invisible victims of domestic violence
who are too often overlooked
when it comes to prevention initiatives, support services and awareness campaigns.
This means I may not even realize
that domestic violence can affect them in their relationships.
As a result, they don’t get the support that they need
and remain at a higher risk of abuse and harm.
I know that I was ashamed to talk to anyone about it.
I thought people would judge me
and I wasn’t sure if I’d be believed or taken seriously.
On the surface and on social media, my relationship looked great.
My partner and I lived in a lovely house together.
We had a beautiful German shepherd called Zulu.
We would go away on holidays together and nights out on the town.
Yet beneath the surface,
it was a relationship that was based on power and control.
I was forever worrying about
when the next outburst of anger would be and what the next outburst would bring.
Would he embarrass me in front of my friends or family?
Would he abused me, would he damage property
or would next time be something worse?
DV started quite early in the relationship
where he would get jealous if I spoke to anyone that he didn’t know.
Something as simple as saying hello to a childhood friend at an event
could spark this fit of rage
that could end with him abusing me or throwing things at me.
He would blame his behavior
on being drunk, on mental health issues
or being scared of losing me.
He would say things like,
“I just love you so much, it makes me crazy.”
Rather than saying these behaviors are red flags,
I thought to myself, wow,
this guy must really love me if he’s this scared of losing me.
There was always a build-up of tension where I’d find myself
walking on eggshells and avoiding anything
that I thought could cause him to go off.
After a while, I knew what might set him off
and when the next outburst was coming.
At times, it could be because I went out for dinner
with my work colleagues without him.
At times, it could be something as simple as trying to hold his hand,
getting home from work late or even what I’d cook for dinner.
To help ensure my safety, sometimes I would prepare the house
to make sure I was safe waiting for this next outburst of anger.
I would hide the knife block in the kitchen,
have the front door open,
put the car keys in the ignition and
have the garage door up ready for a quick escape if I needed it.
What I was experiencing made me feel terrible,
but I always had this nagging doubt about whether it was abuse.
Could I be a victim of abuse?
Was I just being too sensitive?
Is this what it’s like to be in a same-sex relationship,
or is it because he had a tough childhood?
I was confused because as a gay man, I didn’t really associate myself
with someone who could be a victim of domestic violence.
One time I recalled,
I just wanted him to punch me in the face,
so I had a clear indicator that that it was domestic violence
and a specific reason to leave him.
Despite this, I still wasn’t recognizing
what I was experiencing as domestic violence.
Every time he used abuse of violence,
next would come the apologies, the promises to change
and these grand gestures to prove how much he loved me.
They range from promises to drink less
to see a psychologist,
to commitment rings, promises to marry
and even a tattoo of my name on his chest.
I saw it all.
What I didn't see was a way out.
My view of domestic violence was
it was something that could only be committed by a man against a woman.
I was a big, tough police officer.
I felt so ashamed.
How could I be a victim of domestic violence?
I had a good education, had a good job,
and I’m male.
What would people say?
Would I just be seen as weak and told to man up?
What I now know is that
while domestic violence
in heterosexual relationships and LGBTQ relationships
share many similarities,
there are also several unique methods of using power and control.
These can include threats like
how to reveal a person’s sexuality, gender identity or health status
to family, friends, or work colleagues;
pressure to conform to certain sexuality or gender stereotype;
ridiculing the other person’s expression of gender or sexuality;
or isolation from LGBTQ friends, venues and events.
When I search for support services,
I only found services for men using violence against women.
This reinforced that belief that I couldn’t be a victim.
It wasn’t until I stumbled upon an LGBTQ domestic violence website,
and completed a relationship checklist and ticked nearly every box
that I realized what I was experiencing was abuse.
When we look at support services advertising,
government campaigns and news articles,
they most often speak about
domestic violence being perpetrated by men against a woman.
I found this was an international trend
when I traveled the globe as part of a Churchill fellowship.
Over six weeks,
I visited six countries,
eight police departments and 15 support organizations,
researching ways for police to enhance the ways
that they respond to domestic violence in LGBTQ communities.
Studies have found that
LGBTQ people are far less likely to
reach out to police or support services if they experience domestic violence.
Alarmingly, one study indicated that
only one in 20 victims of domestic violence
actually reported the abuse of violence to police.
These low reporting figures can be attributed not only to
the lack of awareness of domestic violence in LGBTQ communities,
but also to the historically challenging and negative relationships
between police and those communities.
It was only in 1991
that the Queensland government decriminalized homosexuality,
and in 1992 that the World Health Organization
removed homosexuality from its list of mental disorders.
These historical incidents
of police targeting LGBTQ people whilst enforcing those laws of the day
can still lead some LGBTQ people to distrust police
and believe they won't be treated appropriately or respectfully.
These days, however,
relationships between police and LGBTQ communities
are generally quite positive.
LGBTQ people can also face challenges when accessing support services as
the DV sector is generally funded and operates under
a gendered framework which doesn’t necessarily meet
the needs of LGBTQ communities.
Crisis accommodation,
perpetrated behavioral change programs and court safe rooms
are all designed to protect heterosexual women.
As a result,
LGBTQ people don’t receive the support or protection that they need.
Housing is only available for women,
which means men, no matter what their sexuality,
may have no other option than to access homeless services.
While services continue to provide assistance to people
based on their gender and sexuality,
LGBTQ people will remain at a greater risk of
failing to engage with police and support services.
This will leave them at a higher risk of abuse and harm
without that early identification and intervention.
We cannot rely solely on government departments,
police and support services to solve this problem.
We all have a responsibility
as individuals to do something
if we’re going to end domestic violence in our communities.
It’s quite common for incidents of abuse to be witnessed by others,
with research indicating that up to 1 in 3 incidents of domestic violence
are witnessed by a bystander.
Despite this, most people aren’t aware of
what behaviors constitute domestic violence
or what they can do to help.
That’s why I ask, when you all go home today,
make yourself aware of what a healthy relationship looks like
and what the signs of an abusive one might be.
Know what you can do to assist someone
if you think they are in an abusive relationship.
Do you know what you could do
if a friend or family member’s partner was displaying abusive behaviors?
Do you know what you could do if they were
putting a friend down in front of you,
checking up on them all the time or becoming jealous or controlling?
There’re many resources available,
such as bystander toolkits and relationship checklists.
These resources can help give you the confidence that you need
to assist someone in an abusive relationship.
By showing your support,
you could change their life in ways you can’t even imagine.
You could even save one.
We need to challenge our beliefs
and the way that we talk about domestic violence,
and work together as a community to ensure that in the future
there are no invisible victims.
Everyone,
no matter what their gender or sexuality,
needs to feel seen, believed,
supported, valued, and be given hope.
This will assist them in having the courage
to reach out for support if they need it.
Domestic violence isn’t just a heterosexual issue,
it’s a human issue.
The sooner we recognize that it can affect anyone,
the sooner we can work towards ending it.
Thank you.