Metamyth applied to the rehabilitation saga
From Cyberlaw
Throughout Nesson’s Winter Evidence 2006, I became intrigued by narrative and the monomyth, particularly the idea of constructing my own mythical heroes. In interacting with a jury, responsible for judging the coherence of competing narratives, there seems no stronger strategy than convincingly portraying your client’s heroism. A hero wins admirers through courage and bravery; a hero convinces skeptics to nullify gaps in the law or evidence. In three years at a shelter in California, I watched women struggle along the path from domestic violence victim to empowered person. In looking back I recognize that the journeys of many victims traced that of the archetypal hero.
Like the monomythical hero, the domestic violence victim begins her journey in a state of “neurotic anguish,” having endured much suffering. Her Call to Adventure can sound from several sources – a friend questioning bruises and last-minute cancellations, or literature advertising a DV hotline. Victims often Refuse at first, denying problems and isolating themselves from further calls to adventure. For many victims, reluctance to answer the call grows not out of love for the abuser but out of fear of the unknown. Speaking a foreign language, lacking job skills, and finding herself trapped by humiliation, a controlling husband, and cultural norms of silence, the victim must cross many barriers to escape. Combined with illegal residence and a distrust of law enforcement – particularly of its willingness to take her complaints seriously – unwillingness to pick up the phone is understandable.
Lacking the weapons to cross the first threshold, the archetypal hero accepts Supernatural Aid from wise individuals. Frequently, the victim also relies upon a supernatural force to spring into action. Though willing to suffer herself, her maternal instincts lead her to call 911 or a DV hotline and thereby cross the first threshold, as soon as the risk of harm to her children surfaces.
A flurry of activity ensues – the phone call, an arrest, a short conversation with an advocate, and a ride to an undisclosed location. Exhausted, the victim falls asleep, only to awake in a strange bed wondering what she’s gotten herself into. To the observer, the choice was clear, this new situation an exponential improvement over the old; yet to our hero, surrounded by unknowns, cut off from contact, waking up in the shelter is like awaking in the Belly of the Whale.
That morning, the victim begins her Initiation into shelter life, embarking on a Road of Trials designed to prepare her for self-reliance, yet guaranteed to test her mettle. A result of funding requirements and social science, women are taught English as a Second Language, computer and job skills, and financial literacy; educated on nutrition, physical fitness, and gardening; and counseled on personal empowerment and the “cycle of violence.” They are drug-tested, placed under curfew, assigned shelter chores, and given a meal schedule. Not merely a haven from violence, the shelter is a boot camp, interested in individual progress, yet dedicated to the success of the greatest number. Break shelter policy two or three times and you’re on your own.
During her stay, the victim inevitably encounters someone who, through story, convinces her that the path is not futile. Whether the shelter director, the house mother, or a counselor, this Goddess figure reassures the victim by recounting her own tale. Yet, counteracting this positive force, Temptation draws the victim back to the abusive situation. Crafty abusers find ways to make contact, to apologize and swear they have changed, or victims give in to loneliness and call him themselves. Many will return to the comfort of a known culture and relationship several times before they finally break free.
By rising above an abusive childhood and patriarchal system, the victim Makes Atonement with her past and comes to embrace her true worth. She learns to blame her flawed abusers rather than herself; to recognize the failures in her past and to rise above them. Strengthened by a sense of empowerment, the victim can now imagine a life beyond the confines of her past existence. This means a life outside the home or neighborhood, in which the woman is able to provide for herself, to interact with wider communities, and to live without pain.
At this stage, the victim has made the cognitive leap to freedom. She can describe the dynamics of healthy relationships and detail a plan for the future. In tune with the progress she has made, the victim could provide Boons to society by leading herself and her children to a safe existence and, ultimately, by serving as a Goddess figure to other victims. However, though possessing the skills needed to Return to non-shelter life, many victims Refuse to do so.
Though rigorous and filled with trials, the shelter is a sanctuary. Shelter life provides safety that many have not felt in years. But while the shelter experience is empowering, shelter life is not an empowered life – victims must leave the shelter to complete their transition. After approximately 45 days, the victims must leave, kicked out by government regulation, left to sink or swim. Shelter exit parallels the hero’s Magic Flight, or mad dash return, for some victims. They have arranged future housing and employment, and armed psychologically, they rush back into non-shelter life. Of the less prepared, however, only a small percentage are admitted into transitional housing. Most continue to receive outreach counseling, but their days are unscheduled, nights unrestricted, and activities unplanned. The temptation to return to the abuser – to his money, his legal status, his home – is immense.
To a degree, the victim in either situation must call upon the outside world to pull her back, to convince her of the safeness of return. For this Rescue from Without, this added security of restraining orders and custody limitations, the victim must convince society she is worth rescuing. In obtaining legal protections, the victim engages in a battle of evidence and credibility. She must portray a convincing story of abuse to the factfinder. Where the risk of great harm is not high, advocates sometimes tell women to remain with their abusers longer so that they may better document incidents of abuse.
Meanwhile, the victim’s narrative must remain coherent while incorporating several tensions. While explaining the severity of abuse, the woman must also explain why she was unable to leave for so long, and so may call an expert to testify on the controversial topic of Battered Woman’s Syndrome. To put forth a coherent story of abuse, an advocate will help gather evidence, construct a narrative statement of the violence, and prepare the victim for court; yet, for the story to be believed it must not be too slick – it must correspond to the public’s imagination of the testimonial capacities of a battered woman. Finally, the ideal courtroom victim is far from the ideal custodial parent, and so the victim must narrate her own cyclical journey. Having been saved, the victim must convince the world that she is ready, with a little help, to come back and save it.
In dialing 911, our hero crossed the first threshold, ending her abusive relationship and symbolically ending her previous life. Leaving the shelter, she must Cross a Return Threshold. Whether due to custody arrangements, mutual friendships, or closely-knit neighborhoods, victims find themselves forced to confront and interact with their abusers. Only by employing the sense of self she gained from her shelter experience in this outside encounter can the victim become Master of Two Worlds. She may rightfully continue to fear harm, but her slavery to abuse is over. The divide between shelter life – safe, empowering, self-interested – and the prior outside life – dangerous, abusive, and slave-like – is broken down: the victim finds herself able to employ in the real world that which she learned in the shelter. In crossing this second threshold, the victim begins a new life.
Having completed the journey and obtained Freedom to Live, former victims find themselves in a unique position to bestow boons upon humanity. Formerly battered women continue to help others in innumerable ways. Former victims hold shelter leadership positions; counsel new victims; operate multilingual hotline networks; educate law enforcement, social service providers, and students on domestic violence; and even advocate in the courtroom. The dynamics of domestic violence are incomprehensible to most who have had no experience with it, and our hero-victim’s tale will ring upon many deaf ears. To the victims embarking on their own journeys, however, her knowledge will prove immensely valuable.
