Fighting 'upscale violence'
YWCA benefit speaker to discuss isolation of wealthy abuse victims.
JOSEPH DITS
Tribune Staff Writer
SOUTH BEND -- She'd taken her two little boys to the women's shelter and they did their good deed -- dropped off some diapers. So it couldn't be, it just couldn't be, that she needed the shelter to help her out of a violent marriage.
"It's for poor women," the South Bend native thought of the shelter.
She was climbing executive posts at a major firm, a can-do woman who felt trapped, unable to escape abuse until those boys went to college.
She was the victim of what psychotherapist Susan Weitzman calls "upscale violence," a term she coined.
"Usually it's people who you think have a lot going for them," Weitzman says from her Chicago office. She wrote a book on the issue in 2000, "Not to People Like Us," and started The Weitzman Center in Chicago as a way to educate victims and the public.
On Thursday, she'll speak at a luncheon to benefit the YWCA of St. Joseph County.
The abuser or victim could be a corporate chief, a minister, a doctor, a professor or anyone earning a middle- to upper-class salary. Lots of folks wrongly assume the victims have so many ways to escape, Weitzman says. Rather, the status feeds into threats and isolation.
The South Bend woman asked The Tribune to withhold her name for fear (not hers) of how the public would perceive her affiliation with certain organizations.
That's a stigma she'd rather do without, saying, "I think it's a shame that I can't say who I am."
She says she grew up in a classic cycle of violence. She was sexually abused at age 4 by the same male relative who'd abused her mother. In the second of two abusive marriages, she found herself jobless with two little children. She asked her parents for an exit route, but they were old-fashioned, advising, "You stay with your kids and husband."
Many times, Weitzman says, victims of "upscale violence" haven't experienced such abuse. When it hits, they redouble their efforts to make things work out. But, she points out, abuse only grows worse over time.
The South Bend native made long-term plans to one day be free. She checked on her options every five years with a lawyer. With good intentions, the lawyer kept telling her that, if she left the marriage, she'd have to pay child and spousal support. Her husband could then quit his job and drain her funds so badly that she'd lack enough to live on, her lawyer said.
Weitzman says a lot of women in this situation fear that divorce could jeopardize their income and hurt the kids. The abuser threatens that, if she seeks divorce, he has the money to put together a legal "dream team."
And he often has the connections to make good on his threats, she says.
YWCA Director Linda Baechle has counseled several local women in this dilemma. The men, she says, often tell their victims, "There's no way you're going to get a fair shake." The men threaten to persistently delay the case in court and to hire someone they know to do a biased child-custody evaluation.
So victims shrink into self-isolation, Weitzman says.
The victim may be making good money, but that doesn't mean it's easy for her to move out and pay for an apartment of her own, Weitzman says. That's because the abuser often controls both of their purse strings.
When upper-income victims go to a shelter, they often don't fit in.
Victims with "considerable" income have stayed at the YWCA, and that has worked out for some, Baechle says.
But, she adds, "sometimes participants in groups feel uncomfortable talking about how they're going to protect their children's assets when they're sitting with women who are worried about how they're going to feed their children."
While in town, Weitzman will train the YWCA staff as it explores the idea of creating services -- maybe a support group -- for upper-income victims, Baechle says.
Weitzman says there isn't a simple fix, but the exit route for victims could be made a lot better if police, courts, doctors, therapists, shelters and many other helpers no longer write off the wealthier victims.
"I think it is changing," she says.
The South Bend native says that her youngest son, as he matured, discouraged her from divorce, saying she had a wonderful life. Once he was in college, he retracted that, saying he could see that she needed to go. That was her release. Her girlfriends took charge, lining up an apartment for her. She spent 45 minutes yanking clothes out of her old closet and left.
That was two years ago.
The boys, still in college, both say they don't want to marry or have kids.
"In some ways I think I did them a disservice because they don't know what a normal relationship is," she says.
Staff writer Joseph Dits:
(574) 235-6158