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Victims of domestic violence in female couples suffer from a lack of representation and resources that hamper their awareness and reconstruction. La Converse spoke with three women who have experienced violence at the hands of their partners.
Having just answered our call, Héléne* challenges us on the importance of this article. “I think we don't talk about it enough,” she says about domestic violence in lesbian couples. We ourselves had a lot of difficulty finding information on the subject.
This 30-year-old Montreal woman is one of the three people who agreed to talk to us on the phone to tell us their story. With a soft, calm voice, she expresses herself with clarity, despite the emotions that underlie her story. Her “first serious relationship” lasted eight years. At first, “everything was fine, it was a fairy tale.” But over the years, Hélène came to question her spouse's words and behaviours, which were similar to psychological abuse. “The more I got to know her, the more I had problems with her. Red Flags.” Her partner denigrated her in public, for example, citing her lack of intelligence, distanced her from her family and blackmailed her. She even ended up physically abusing her. These attacks marked a turning point and allowed Hélène to become aware that she was a victim of domestic violence.
Heteronormative resources
In theory, all Quebec organizations specializing in domestic violence are open to victims of LGBTQ+ communities. But according to the director of the Lesbian Solidarity Centre (CSL), Audrey Mantha, most of these services “are still heteronormative” and assume that domestic violence is exerted by a man on a woman. “Violence between women is unfortunately still minimized,” she adds, and it may happen that social workers question the victims' experience. Intervening with sexual and gender minorities also requires using adequate vocabulary, not asking intrusive questions, and adopting an intersectional approach—something that organizations are sometimes slow to do. As a result, lesbian victims often do not disclose the gender of their partners by using these services, or simply do not consult them, for fear of experiencing discrimination, reports Mantha.
The Lesbian Solidarity Centre is now the only organization in Quebec that treats people who are victims of domestic and intimate lesbian violence. Located in Montreal, it accompanies lesbo-queer victims in the context of discussion groups and individual intervention sessions. It favors an approach “by and for” the . “This is our strength”, believes the director, because victims do not have to deal with coming out to users and workers. The organization is a place for groups, where victims can collectivize their stories. “We need to see that their reality is common,” says Mantha. However, this inclusive support space set up by the CSL remains limited to the few dozen participants that the organization can accommodate.
Violence that is mainly psychological
According to Audrey Mantha, domestic violence can be “physical and sexual, but also psychological and economic.” In the case of lesbian relationships, the violence is mainly psychological, according to sexology researcher Macha Loniewski. She explains this in particular by gendered socialization, which teaches women more physical reserve. Violence is then expressed in a “more indirect and emotional” way.
We spoke to Florence*, who wanted to tell her story to show that violence can also be psychological, “contrary to what we think,” she says. In her forties, Florence is a teacher in the region. At lunch break, while her classroom is empty, she takes the time to call us to tell us about the psychological abuse she experienced during an 11-year relationship with her ex-wife. Sometimes gasping for breath, she lists the “very subtle” remarks and behaviours she experienced on a daily basis. “She was constantly making denigrating comments”, “rummaging through my cell phone”, “gaslighting me” and “isolated me from a lot of people,” she recalls. Looking back, she believes that, “among lesbian couples, violence is more subtle.”
Although emotional abuse can be similar to that experienced in heterosexual couples, some of its expressions are specific to the LGBTQ+ context. Her partner not being out, Florence was required to be “discreet” about her sexual orientation. “Before, I dressed more masculine, I had short hair, but now I no longer had the taste” because of the pressure exerted by her partner. According to Audrey Mantha, identity denigration is one of the “specific forms” of lesbian intimate violence. It consists of devaluing or humiliating your partner based on their LGBTQ+ identity. Forced disclosure — which involves revealing the identity or orientation of your partner without consent — is also a form specific to queer violence.
Invisible violence
Despite the seriousness of psychological violence, victims do not always take stock of the situation. “I saw nothing for 11 years!" regrets Florence. “Naming violence is difficult because you always think it's super big. [...] I've never been pushed or hit; maybe it would have been easier to do it if that had been the case,” she concedes. The idea that violence is primarily physical remains largely rooted in the imagination of the victims, who unwittingly trivialize harmful psychological behaviour. “These are really trivial and everyday small matters. Taken individually, they seem insignificant”, says Florence.
The difficulty lesbian victims have in understanding that they are experiencing violence can be attributed to the gender of the aggressor. According to Claudine Thibaudeau, a social worker at SOS Violence Conjugale, “domestic violence is more associated with men”, including in the victims' imagination, making it “more difficult to name it when it comes from a woman.” Hélène believes that it would indeed have been easier to describe the situation as violent if the perpetrator had been a man. She explains it by the fact that LGBTQ+ domestic violence is “much less discussed than heterosexual violence.”
Although few studies have been conducted on the issue in Canada, it is estimated that in the United States, 25 to 40 per cent of women in same-sex relationships have already experienced domestic violence, according to The Williams Institute. Despite this reality, the domestic violence mentioned in the political and media sphere remains essentially heterosexual. “The first explanation, I think, is that women live in a society where they are less visible than men. [...] So, a couple of women is all the less visible”, believes Audrey Mantha. As a result, lesbo victim “do not recognize themselves in domestic violence and do not have enough information on these relationships.”
This was the case with Olivia*, a 23-year-old resident of Longueuil. After some hesitation, she looked back on her first romantic relationship, which she experienced as a teenager. Her partner pressured her to have sexual relations, which escalated with her using force, despite her refusal. It was after “one or two years” that Olivia managed to put the word “rape” on this event. “I was already fighting for women's rights, I was revolted against the sexual assaults they could suffer. But in my mind, it was impossible for that to happen to me.” Olivia did not associate sexual violence with lesbian relationships. “I heard a lot of stories of rapes from hyper-violent men, and I didn't immediately make the connection to what I had experienced,” she recalls.
Power relationships between women
“Just like in society in general, there are power relationships within our [LGBTQ+] communities,” says Audrey Mantha. Even if women couples avoid the gender domination of a man over a woman, other mechanisms of domination can be established. At the Lesbian Solidarity Centre,Mantha must therefore deal with domestic violence based on the gender identity or sexual orientation of the victim. For example, bisexual people are more at risk of experiencing violence, due to some myths that they “sleep with everyone or are at high risk of STBBIs,” according to Mantha. The i also regularly testifies to discrimination based on the migration status of the victim. “People without status are really vulnerable in terms of intimate and domestic violence”, according to Mantha, as their reality could be used as an element of blackmail by their partner.
In the violent relationship she experienced, Hélène believes that an imbalance was established on an economic and academic basis. “She worked in a field that brought her a lot, and I had a low-end job; so she was the one who brought the money.” Her partner then took advantage of this financial advantage to control her and blackmail her. “She also played on her intellectual superiority”, she says, explaining that her ex-spouse sometimes denigrated her in public because of her lower level of education. “She was good at drawing, in mathematics, writing, languages... I was useless.”
For her part, Olivia says that her ex-girlfriend used her lack of sexual experience to impose her practices on her. “She kept telling me that she had already had a relationship, [...] and that it was not me who was going to teach her how to make love, since I had no experience in it.”
For Audrey Mantha, being in a first relationship is a vulnerability factor to violence. In a context where LGTBQ+ romantic and sexual representations are rarer, the most novice person has less knowledge of how a relationship works. “You don't necessarily have the information, and you find yourself having practices that don't correspond to what you want, because your partner tells you that's what a lesbian relationship is.”
Solidarity that complicates the breakup
“It's always hard to get out of an abusive relationship; it's rare that it happens all at once,” explains Audrey Mantha. In female couples, there are some dynamics that can delay the breakup. For example, partners experience common oppressions related to their belonging to sexual and gender minorities, which creates solidarity that complicates separation. “There is an emotional closeness that is often more important. We thus see victims who want to protect their partner,” explains the director of the CSL.
This is one of the reasons why Hélène did not leave her partner as quickly as she would have liked. “I wanted to help her in this, I wanted to be the saviour, because I think that each person can have something good in themselves. She was such a smart person with a big heart,” she said. Despite her intention to change her partner's behaviours, the episodes of violence continued. “Looking back, I should have gotten by well sooner, I shouldn't have waited eight years.”
Once the relationship is over, intimate and marital abuse chases the victims. The consequences are multiple, starting with those that weigh on LGBTQ+ identity. “It is certain that, in our populations, there will be a lot of questioning of sexual orientation,” reports Audrey Mantha. “It may seem strange”, but in her opinion, we must remember the sometimes difficult journey that we must go through to live an assumed relationship with a woman. Experiencing violence in such a relationship “is a bit like breaking their ideal.”
In fact, Florence feels that her lesbian identity was affected by the violence perpetrated by her ex-spouse. “I no longer knew who I had the right to be, as I am generally fully responsible.”
Sexuality can also be affected, regardless of the nature of the violence. According to sexology researcher Macha Loniewski, there can be “repercussions in terms of the ability to let go, to be sexually satisfied, [...] or to affirm consent.” Following her relationship with a sexually abusive partner, Olivia found it difficult to communicate with her partners: “I don't feel free to say when I am in pain, when I no longer want to.” The young woman sometimes has to find non-verbal strategies to mean a refusal, for fear of verbalizing it.
During the interviews we had with them, the women we met spoke at length about their relationships and the violence they had endured. To the question “What do you need now?” one answer in particular was repeated: to speak. After many years of experiencing taboo domestic violence, victims feel the urge to communicate about what happened to them. Despite the embarrassment and fear, Olivia shared it with those around her, hoping that “people would know what happened.” Florence, for her part, “needed to talk a lot about it afterwards, to [be] recognized”. Opening up to her loved ones was a way to regain her personality and affirm her “right to exist”, when she felt that she was “nobody next to her”. As for Hélène, talking with her “two wonderful sisters and her best friend” is essential support.
Not everything is settled yet, she says: “I want to regain my freedom and be happy, but I am still marred by this feeling of fear and anger. Because, during all these years, I have not been able to listen to myself.” She wishes “nothing but good [her ex-spouse], to get better and to take care of herself.” To the victims, she wants to say this: “You have the right to be happy. Everyone deserves to have love.”
*First names have been changed to preserve the anonymity of the victims.