He never hit her, but he carefully found ways to isolate her from her friends and family.
Although she held a master’s degree in finance, he teased that she was bad at math, and he wouldn’t let her handle the household finances. He accused her of cheating on him when she had a late day at work and punched holes in the apartment wall when she denied it.
“I thought our fights were normal-couple fights,” said the woman, who is 29 and now lives with her parents in a remote part of the Western Slope. (Because she relies on her ex-husband for child support, she requested anonymity.)
“It escalated in subtle ways. First, words. Then raised voices. Then he grabbed my wrist, and I said, ‘Don’t ever touch me like that again,’ ” and he didn’t.
“But he made me choose between him and my friends, and between him and my family, until I didn’t even have work friends. I think what characterizes an abusive relationship, even more than physical marks, is if there is fear in your heart every day.”
In 2011, 34,685 clients sought help at one of Colorado’s 46 domestic violence crisis centers, according to the 2013 report from the Women’s Foundation of Colorado. (In 2010, crisis centers saw 28,132 clients. Crisis workers say that even though they see more abuse victims, many never come forward out of fear and embarrassment.)
Many of them, like the woman on the Western Slope, are Latina, a group disproportionately represented in requiring help with domestic abuse. Latinas make up 21 percent of Colorado’s female population but 30 percent of those receiving residential and nonresidential services from those crisis centers.
The woman has seen the viral video of then-Baltimore Raven Ray Rice knocking out his then-fiancée. (Issues surrounding the release of the video — as well as if and when NFL officials had seen it earlier — have prompted the league to order an independent investigation.)
She understands why Janay Palmer, now Rice’s wife, not only openly blames herself for that incident but remains with her abuser. It took several attempts before the Western Slope woman finally “grabbed the keys, picked up my toddler and ran home” to her parents, she said.
That, too, is typical, says Camille Ruff, a victim services coordinator for the Domestic Violence Initiative for Women with Disabilities.
Ruff and other service providers say a woman attempts to leave her abuser an average of five to seven times before finally ending the relationship. Often, they return because they have no place to go and no money. Shelters are full and can take only women who are in imminent danger, Ruff said. Victims hesitate to turn to friends and family.
“It’s embarrassing; you don’t want to tell your family what’s happening,” said Maria, another abuse survivor.
Her ex-husband served time in Denver County Jail this year after slamming Maria’s head into a sink so forcefully that the porcelain broke in half. (She also insists on anonymity; her ex has violated a restraining order at least once.)
“At the beginning, it was not so bad, but then he started changing and began breaking stuff, throwing my stuff through the apartment window,” she said. “Every time after, he promised he would not do it again. And I thought it was my fault, that I was no good. He told me all the time I was no good, that I could not even wash the dishes right.”
Maria attempted several times to leave him but returned after he promised to reform. After the abuse incident that left her hospitalized with a contusion and other injuries (and sent her ex to jail), she left permanently, turning to the Latina Safehouse for help.
“For domestic violence to exist, there must be one or more of these: punishment, coercion, control, intimidation and revenge,” said Denver Police Chief of Staff Lt. Matt Murray, who has spent nearly 25 years specializing in domestic violence cases.
“In essence, the dynamic is to control the partner, and about 93 percent of the time, the victim is female. In the Ray Rice video, what she did in slapping at him is not appropriate. But ‘Was he in danger?’ is the question to ask. His safety was never threatened,” Murray said. “Yet she took the blame. As a society, we have to say that’s not OK. We shouldn’t be blaming her for staying. We should be asking what road Ray Rice followed that got him here.”
Abuse isn’t necessarily as obvious as a roundhouse punch. Camille Ruff, the victim services coordinator, said she has talked to spouses whose abusive husbands are attorneys “threatening to take her to court and destroy her.” She sees women in wheelchairs whose spouses and partners threaten to tell social services administrators that they’re unfit mothers so they’ll lose custody of their children.
“And that does happen; it’s not an empty threat,” Ruff said.
“That’s why they stay. They’ll threaten in ways that you can’t call the police: ‘You’re a whore. You’re fat. You’re stupid. If you leave, I’ll kill your mother. I’ll hurt the baby.’ A lot of our clients come from a strong Christian home where they’re told they need to be submissive and stay, and if she loves him enough, she can save him.”
In the domestic violence workshops he teaches to other law enforcement agents, Murray tells them to picture themselves in the victim’s place.
“Have you ever had a job you wanted to leave but couldn’t, financially?” he will ask them. “How about a roommate? A boss you don’t like? We’ve all done that. We’ve all stayed too long in a situation we wanted to leave. Maybe we couldn’t afford a different place to live or there wasn’t another job. There are so many reasons people stay when they don’t want to. We all do it, not just these women.”
Claire Martin: 303-954-1477, cmartin@denverpost.com or twitter.com/byclairemartin
Why abused partners stay
Living in fear, embarrassed and blaming themselves, victims of domestic violence feel isolated and insecure.