A woman describes how the abuse began early in the marriage. She constantly walked on eggshells, not knowing what would set her husband off. He put his business dealings in her name and didn’t pay taxes, leaving her in financial ruins. Feeling trapped, she considered suicide, but decided against it, for the sake of her children.
And yes, she is Jewish.
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, an appropriate moment to shed light on this issue. 10 million. That’s the number of people affected by domestic violence in the United States every year. 1 in 4 women during their lifetimes. 1 in 9 men.
If we think “this doesn’t happen to us,” not only are we tragically mistaken, but we become part of the problem. Because denying that domestic violence takes place in the Jewish community creates a stigma around asking for help. It tells a person that they are alone in their situation, when nothing could be further from the truth.
During the pandemic lockdown, it was widely reported that incidents of domestic abuse went up. Our Covid Impact Study revealed that for the Jewish community, 34% of the victims of domestic violence felt less safe in their relationships. Almost two-thirds of those same victims did not seek, or were not planning to seek, professional help.
Misconceptions about domestic violence and intimate partner abuse need to be debunked. First, abuse is not always a broken arm or a black eye. There is verbal abuse, sexual abuse, cutting off access to finances, or attempting to control a person’s every move. Abuse happens in high-income, highly educated households, and it happens in low-income households. Victims can be in their teens, and they can be in their 80s.
When people do call a domestic abuse hotline seeking help, often the first thing they might say is, “Please don’t tell me to leave.” It may take years before a person feels prepared to leave their abuser.
UJA supports a wide array of partners — including The Jewish Board’s Lev Initiative, Met Council, Amudim, NYLAG, and Shalom Task Force — that are in the trenches running hotlines, providing trauma-informed therapy, offering legal and financial support, and providing help with housing. We’ve now brought these partners together under the umbrella of Makom Shalom (“Place of Peace,” in Hebrew), which allows them to collaborate more deeply, sharing information and best practices. Our network is also working on how to reach out to people who might not seek help on their own.
The woman I spoke of earlier called Met Council when she reached her breaking point. With great sensitivity, they helped her form a plan to leave safely and get her life back.
New Yorkers of every background are supported with our funding. Importantly, though, UJA’s partners are also attuned to the particular cultural needs of the Jewish community: How Jewish family purity laws could play into sexual abuse. How paying for Jewish day school becomes a financial tie to an abuser. And when a Jewish person does leave and enters a shelter, our partners can send a rabbi over to kasher the kitchen or ensure the delivery of kosher food.
This Domestic Violence Awareness Month coincides, appropriately, with Sukkot: a holiday that powerfully reminds us of the fragility of life. Sitting in a temporary hut, we contemplate how the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years. We think about shelter and security, and what it is to be without them.
To feel unsafe in your own home is to live every day with terrible fragility.
But there is recourse. For anyone seeking help, we offer these resources and this message: there is no shame, no stigma in what you’ve endured.
There is a path out of the desert. There is hope.
A caring community awaits all who seek shelter.
Shabbat shalom and chag sameach