Domestic Violence at the Intersection of Marginalized Racial and Gender Identities

The story of Janay and Ray Rice's "altercation" in an Atlantic City elevator, which ended with Mr. Rice knocking his then-fiancee unconscious, has saturated media coverage for a couple of weeks now. I will not use this space to speculate on whether or not violence was a pre-existing/is an ongoing part of their relationship. Rather, I'd like to highlight some facts about intimate partner violence against black women. You should know:

"African American females experience intimate partner violence at a rate 35% higher than that of white females, and about 2.5 times the rate of women of other races"

Approximately one in three African American women are abused by a husband or partner in the course of a lifetime

In 2011, black women were murdered by males at a rate of 2.61 per 100,000 in single victim/single offender incidents. For white women, the rate was 0.99 per 100,000. 94% of the black women killed by men knew their killers.

Despite statistics such as these, black women are less likely to report or receive care that addresses their abuse. Why? Though the list is not exhaustive, the Oregon Coalition against Domestic and Sexual Violence offers some important insights on why women of of color are underserved:

Cultural and/or religious beliefs that restrain the survivor from leaving the abusive relationship or involving outsiders.

Strong loyalty binds to race, culture and family.

Distrust of law enforcement, criminal justice system, and social services.

Lack of service providers that look like the survivor or share common experiences.

Lack of culturally and linguistically appropriate services.

Lack of trust based on history of racism and classism in the United States.

Fear that their experience will reflect on or confirm the stereotypes placed on their ethnicity.

Assumptions of providers based on ethnicity.

Attitudes and stereotypes about the prevalence of domestic violence and sexual assault in communities of color.

Legal status in the U.S. of the survivor and/or the batterer.

Black women must also deal with the legacy of the devaluation of their bodies and themselves and, like many survivors of domestic and sexual violence, the victim-blaming that many engage in. As Mychal Denzel Smith writes,

But every time we are called upon to collectively denounce that violence, there’s a section of the choir that starts singing from a different set of sheet music.

“Well, I don’t believe he should have hit her, but she also shouldn’t have…”

“Hitting women is wrong, but if you’re going to step to a man like a man…”

“She has a responsibility to her family…”

“She stayed with him, so obviously she’s condoning that behavior…”

“It’s none of our business what happens between…”

“What did she expect?”

For Janay Rice, the criticism has grown even harsher given the Baltimore Ravens' decision to release Ray Rice from his contract. That, apparently, is the real outrage.

This moment, this event, should also call for us to reflect on the rate of domestic violence cases among NFL players. Do a simple Google search on "football and the culture of violence" and you will find everything from blog postings to scholarly articles debating whether or not the sport is enmeshed in a culture of violence. I do not know enough to opine factually. I can point to Nate Silver's assertion that

[D]omestic violence accounts for 48 percent of arrests for violent crimes among NFL players, compared to our estimated 21 percent nationally. Moreover, relative to the income level (top 1 percent) and poverty rate (0 percent) of NFL players, the domestic violence arrest rate is downright extraordinary.

Former NFL player Terry Crews opines that,

The NFL culture, the sports culture, has decided that they are more valuable than women…. I've heard people laugh about keeping their pimp hand strong and keeping her in control so that she knows her place. But think about how evil that is for one man to think that he's actually more valuable than a woman, because as a human being your worth is immeasurable.

And the NFL may be engaging in its own version of victim-blaming. Callie Beusman writes that the NFL tried to save face last week "by, uh, canceling a game-opening sequence that featured Rihanna. Because Rihanna is a domestic violence survivor." What is the message? I agree with Melissa McEwan: "[To] back away from Rihanna in this moment communicates, yet again, that we prioritize the discomfort of abusers more than we do the empowerment of their victims."

As long as there is truth in that statement, statistics on domestic violence will remain as abysmal as they are.