Behind Closed Doors: Domestic Violence Doesn't Have a Type

By Avaloy Lanning, MSW, Executive Director, NewStory Center

 

When news breaks about an alleged incident of domestic violence involving a prominent or well-respected member of our community, the response is often predictable: shock, disbelief, and sometimes an immediate rush to defend the person accused.

 

"But they're such a nice person."

"I've known them for years."

"They would never do something like that."

 

And perhaps the most troubling response of all: "There must be more to the story."

 

After almost three decades working with victims and survivors of violence, I can tell you this with certainty: Domestic violence does not have a type. And neither do those who perpetrate it.

 

Domestic violence happens in every community, every socioeconomic class, every profession, every faith tradition, and every political affiliation. It happens in beautiful homes and modest apartments. It happens in families that appear to have everything and in households struggling to make ends meet.

 

Those who perpetrate domestic violence may be business leaders, members of the clergy, teachers, doctors, attorneys, our coworkers, neighbors, friends, and yes, even our elected officials.

 

They may be generous donors, dedicated volunteers, respected professionals, and beloved members of our communities.

 

A person can be admired in public and abusive in private. Those two realities are not mutually exclusive.

 

This is one of the most difficult truths about domestic violence for communities to confront. We want to believe that we know the people around us. We want to believe that kindness, generosity, professional success, or public service somehow makes a person incapable of causing harm.

 

But the reality is that we rarely know what happens behind closed doors.

 

We see only what someone is willing to show us. We see smiling photographs, community involvement, professional accomplishments, and the carefully maintained reputations. What we do not necessarily see are the intimidation, humiliation, threats, coercive control, isolation, and physical violence that may occur in private.

 

And that disconnect can make it extraordinarily difficult for victims and survivors to come forward.

 

Imagine finding the courage to disclose abuse, only to be met with disbelief because the person who harmed you is someone your community respects. Imagine being told that you must be exaggerating, that you misunderstood, or that the person you are describing simply isn't capable of such behavior.

 

Imagine knowing that speaking your truth may mean being judged, ostracized, or blamed while the person who harmed you is surrounded by support.

 

For many survivors, that is not an imagined scenario. It is their lived experience.

 

We must also remember that an allegation is not a conviction. Every individual is entitled to due process, and the legal system must be allowed to do its work. But due process does not require a community to dismiss allegations, discredit those who report harm, or reflexively defend someone because of their standing or reputation.

 

We can respect the legal process while extending compassion, empathy, and support to those who report experiencing violence.

 

These are not competing obligations.

 

As a community, we must resist the temptation to measure someone's credibility against another person's popularity. A survivor's experience does not become less worthy of being heard because the person accused holds a position of influence or enjoys the admiration of others.

 

Nor should we expect survivors to behave in ways that conform to our expectations. There is no single correct way to respond to trauma, no perfect timeline for disclosing abuse, and no universal explanation for why someone remains in or returns to an abusive relationship.

Domestic violence is complicated. Fear, love, financial dependence, children, housing insecurity, shame, and the very real possibility of escalating violence all influence the decisions survivors make.

 

Our role is not to judge those decisions. Our role is to ensure that survivors have access to safety, resources, dignity, and the freedom to make their own choices.

 

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. It is a time when we ask our communities to recognize the prevalence of domestic violence, challenge the attitudes that allow it to persist, and stand alongside those who have experienced it.

 

But awareness must mean more than wearing purple, sharing a social media post, or attending an event.

 

Awareness means being willing to confront uncomfortable truths, including the possibility that someone we know, like, respect, or admire may be capable of causing harm.

 

It means understanding that a person's reputation is not a substitute for accountability.

 

It means refusing to participate in gossip, speculation, victim-blaming, or the public discrediting of someone who has reported abuse.

And it means recognizing that the way we respond when allegations become public sends a powerful message to every survivor who is watching, including those who have never told anyone what is happening in their own home.

 

They are listening to what we say. They are watching whom we defend. They are learning whether our community is a place where they can safely ask for help.

 

At NewStory Center, we believe every person deserves to live free from violence and fear. We know that domestic violence can happen to anyone, and we know that no amount of professional achievement, social standing, or public admiration places someone beyond scrutiny or accountability.

 

We may never know what happens behind the closed doors of our neighbors, friends, colleagues, or community leaders.

But we can decide what happens when those doors finally open.

 

We can choose compassion over judgment. Empathy over speculation. Support over silence. And we can make it clear that every survivor deserves to be heard, treated with dignity, and taken seriously.

 

Because domestic violence does not have a type.

 

And neither does courage.