ASU Research E-Magazine: Stop! In the Name of Love

Eddie Holland wrote a song in the mid-1960s. Diana Ross and the Supremes made it famous.

Today, “Stop! In The Name Of Love” still gets radio airplay. The lyrics conjure up scenes of romance and devoted love.

Unfortunately, the reality for some women is “Stop! In the name of love, before you break my ribs, or crush my will, or black my eye, or before I end up in the hospital.”

In the 1950s, people called it masochism; in the 1990s, people call it codependency. Kathleen Ferraro calls it woman battering. Woman battering, or domestic violence, is a pattern of repeated emotional and/or physical abuse intended to control and degrade an intimate partner. The intention to degrade and control distinguishes woman battering from other forms of violence.

“Because it’s visible, physical abuse is the most obvious,” says Ferraro, associate professor of justice studies and associate director of the ASU Women’s Studies Program. “But emotional abuse which includes intimidation, using male privilege, using children, and destroying property can be just as destructive. Those are all things that are done for the purpose of undermining a woman’s sense of control and manipulating her to obey.”

There have been laws against domestic violence throughout American history. In the early 1600s, the Plymouth colonists condemned wife beating. Enforcement of domestic violence laws has been a different matter. During the past 20 years, the battered women’s movement has lobbied police departments and the criminal justice system for stricter enforcement of the laws.

Ferraro testifies as an expert witness in woman battering court cases in addition to her academic work. As an expert witness she spends long hours gathering information for case histories. She says that stricter enforcement is probably the only substantial change in the history of woman battering.

“Maybe I’m jaded because I talk to so many battered women,” the ASU professor admits. “But the women still say the same thing. All believe that if they had done something differently, it wouldn’t have happened.”

Haven’t I been good to you?
In 1992, Ferraro and former student Tascha Boychuk published a study that compared the final case dispositions of violent felony cases between intimates to those of violent felony cases between strangers. All of the cases occurred in Arizona’s Maricopa County, which includes the Phoenix metropolitan area. Their results indicate that the criminal justice system is not only lenient regarding assaults that occur between two people who know each other, it is lenient regarding assaults in general.

“Hidden in the rhetoric about getting tough on domestic violence is the faulty assumption that nondomestic violence is treated as serious crime,” Ferraro and Boychuk wrote.

Their study looked at more than 200 violent felony cases. A total of 32 percent were dismissed at the point of going to trial. Of cases that resulted in convictions, 43 percent of the offenders received probation and only 11 percent spent time in prison.

“The criminal justice system cannot end violence. Period. The system cannot end battering because it cannot end sexism,” Ferraro says.

The ASU researcher explains that the criminal justice system is grounded in what she calls the “culture of power.” The culture of power grew out of a modern philosophy that people make rational decisions to increase their own benefits. The culture of power defines the jobs of police officers and reinforces a particular world view.

Police officers arrive at domestic violence scenes with certain expectations. For example, they expect that the woman who initiated the call for help wants the man arrested and will bring charges against him. Police officers become frustrated when these expectations are not met. This frustration can support the myth that the battered woman enjoys her abuse or, at least, willingly prolongs her abuse.

Ferraro believes the battered woman lives in a different culture. She calls it the “relational culture.” The battered woman sees a different situation, one in which police officers are unwilling to help resolve the domestic abuse crisis. She sees a different picture because the culture of power does not accurately define her experiences.

Within the relational culture, Ferraro says that a person’s position is snagged in a web of relationships that determines decision-making, daily activities, values, and goals. When the police officer arrives on the battered woman’s doorstep, she wants the abuse to stop. At the same time, she might not want her husband or boyfriend taken to jail.

“Often, the guy that hit her is the guy that’s bringing home the paycheck. He’s the father of her children. He’s been a part of her life for many years,” Ferraro explains. “So, from the relational point of view, to treat him as if he is a stranger-offender doesn’t make sense.”

Each Time You Leave My Door
“Why didn’t she just leave?” Many people mistakenly believe that battered women never leave their situations. Ferraro says battered women do leave their batterers. Leaving is a coping strategy that a battered woman uses to create a safe environment for herself and her children. But she usually goes back when a specific episode of violence has ended.

Ferraro stands outside the Women's street shelter
“The criminal justice system cannot end violence. Period.”—Kathleen Ferraro

The intimate relationship between a battered woman and her husband or boyfriend is not solely based on violence. Love and children can provide a foundation for the relationship. Ferraro believes that a clear understanding of the culture of relationships makes it irrelevant to ask “Why didn’t she just leave?”

In her work, Ferraro examines all the factors a battered woman uses to make the decision to stay or leave. The battered woman considers much more than a single act of violence. She weighs the good aspects of the relationship, her economic situation, and the welfare of her children against a concern that leaving could escalate the level of violence.

Permanently leaving a batterer poses different problems. The batterer often sees the relationship as ongoing and fulfilling to his needs. Ferraro explains that he will not usually allow the relationship to end peacefully.

“These relationships are complex. They don’t end just because a woman says ‘OK, it’s over now,’“ Ferraro says. ”He’s going to find her and beg her to take him back. Or he might threaten to do terrible things if she doesn’t take him back. Sometimes he does do terrible things to her.”

Think it over
Ferraro uses her research as a link to activism. The culture of relationships produces unique intervention models. One example is the Women’s Street Support Center in Phoenix. The center is run by the women it serves and does not depend on government funding. The center does not have a shelter, but it offers its clients everything from clothes and coffee to employment referrals and support groups.

Ferraro works as a board member at the Women’s Street Support Center, but her work with women’s shelters extends back to her graduate student days. Her doctoral dissertation was a study of how to start and run a successful shelter.

Because of a growing awareness of feminism in the 1970s, Ferraro says there was a growth boom of shelters. After the 1970s, many of the shelters were co-opted into mental health agencies because of the need for government funding. Reliance on state and federal funds caused shelter operators to conform to regulations that worked against empowerment.

“The traditional approach is to force people through a process that makes them into a self-sufficient person,” Ferraro says. “Somebody tells the women what to do and who to be. I’m interested in how shelters can be more proactive in terms of promoting self-determination.”

Ferraro’s activism also affects her research. She focuses on certain groups of people. Advocacy work with homeless people, prostitutes, and other women at the Women’s Street Support Center keeps her sharply aware of all the different women who are victims of violence.

“Activism exposes me to a diversity of experiences and helps me to keep an open mind,” she says.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s called masochism or codependency. Woman battering is abuse with the intention to control and degrade. Now that Ferraro knows what to call it, she’s trying to stop it.—Stephanie Mabee