Jeg er her for at tale om et foruroligende spørgsmål, med et lige så foruroligende svar. Mit emne er hemmeligheden om vold i hjemmet. Og det spørgsmål, jeg skal behandle, er det, som alle altid stiller: "Hvorfor bliver hun i det?" "Hvorfor blive hos en mand, der slår?" Jeg er ikke psykiater, socialrådgiver eller ekspert i vold i hjemmet. Jeg er blot en kvinde med en historie at fortælle:
I'm here today to talk about a disturbing question, which has an equally disturbing answer. My topic is the secrets of domestic violence, and the question I'm going to tackle is the one question everyone always asks: Why does she stay? Why would anyone stay with a man who beats her? I'm not a psychiatrist, a social worker or an expert in domestic violence. I'm just one woman with a story to tell.
Jeg var 22 og havde lige taget eksamen fra Harvard. Jeg kom til New York for at arbejde somskribent og redaktør ved Seventeen. Jeg havde fået min første lejlighed. Mit første lille grønne American Express–kort. Og jeg havde en meget stor hemmelighed: Nemlig at jeg havde fået denne pistol, der var ladt med hulspidsprojektiler, – rettet mod mit hoved af den mand, som jeg troede var min sjæleven. Mange, mange gange. Den mand, jeg elskede mere end nogen anden på Jorden, holdt en pistol mod mit hoved og truede med at slå mig ihjel flere gange, end jeg kan huske. Jeg vil fortælle historien om vanvittig forelskelse. En psykisk fælde forklædt som kærlighed, som millioner af kvinder og også nogle få mænd fanges i hvert år. Den kan endda være din historie.
I was 22. I had just graduated from Harvard College. I had moved to New York City for my first job as a writer and editor at Seventeen magazine. I had my first apartment, my first little green American Express card, and I had a very big secret. My secret was that I had this gun loaded with hollow-point bullets pointed at my head by the man who I thought was my soulmate, many, many times. The man who I loved more than anybody on Earth held a gun to my head and threatened to kill me more times than I can even remember. I'm here to tell you the story of crazy love, a psychological trap disguised as love, one that millions of women and even a few men fall into every year. It may even be your story.
Jeg ligner ikke en typisk overlevende fra vold i hjemmet. Jeg har en BA i engelsk fra Harvard og en MBA i marketing fra Wharton. For det meste har jeg arbejdet for Fortune 500–virksomheder. Bl.a. Johnson & Johnson, Leo Burnett og Washington Post. Jeg har været gift i næsten 20 år med min anden ægtemand. Og vi har tre børn sammen. Min hund er en sort Labrador, og jeg kører i en Honda Odyssey minivan. (Latter)
I don't look like a typical domestic violence survivor. I have a B.A. in English from Harvard College, an MBA in marketing from Wharton Business School. I've spent most of my career working for Fortune 500 companies including Johnson & Johnson, Leo Burnett and The Washington Post. I've been married for almost 20 years to my second husband and we have three kids together. My dog is a black lab, and I drive a Honda Odyssey minivan. (Laughter)
Så mit første budskab til jer er, at vold i hjemmet kan ske for alle. Alle racer, alle religioner. Alle indkomst– og uddannelsesniveauer. Det forekommer alle vegne. Mit andet budskab er, at alle tror, at vold i hjemmet sker for kvinder. At det er et kvindeproblem. Ikke helt. Over 85% af dem, der begår vold, er mænd. Og vold i hjemmet sker kun i nære, langvarige forhold. Med andre ord: I familier. Det sidste sted, vi ville ønske eller forvente at møde vold. Det er det, der gør spørgsmålet om vold i hjemmet så forvirrende.
So my first message for you is that domestic violence happens to everyone -- all races, all religions, all income and education levels. It's everywhere. And my second message is that everyone thinks domestic violence happens to women, that it's a women's issue. Not exactly. Over 85 percent of abusers are men, and domestic abuse happens only in intimate, interdependent, long-term relationships, in other words, in families, the last place we would want or expect to find violence, which is one reason domestic abuse is so confusing.
Jeg havde troet, at jeg var den sidste til at blive hos en mand, der slog. Men jeg var et typisk offer på grund af min alder: Jeg var 22.Og i USA har kvinder mellem 16 og 24 år tre gange så stor risiko for at blive udsat for vold i hjemmet som kvinder i andre aldre. Og over 500 kvinder og piger på den alder bliver dræbt hvert år af voldelige partnere, kærester og ægtemænd, i USA.
I would have told you myself that I was the last person on Earth who would stay with a man who beats me, but in fact I was a very typical victim because of my age. I was 22, and in the United States, women ages 16 to 24 are three times as likely to be domestic violence victims as women of other ages, and over 500 women and girls this age are killed every year by abusive partners, boyfriends, and husbands in the United States.
Jeg var også et typisk offer, fordi jeg intet vidste om vold i hjemmet.Jeg kendte hverken advarselstegnene eller mønstrene.
I was also a very typical victim because I knew nothing about domestic violence, its warning signs or its patterns.
Jeg mødte Conor en kold, regnfuld aften i januar. Han sad ved siden af mig i metroen i New York. Han begyndte at hyggesnakke. Han fortalte to ting: At han også var nyuddannet fra et fint universitet, og at han arbejdede i en meget fornem Wall Street–bank. Men han gjorde især indtryk på mig, fordi han var klog og sjov. Og han lignede en bondedreng med store æblekinder og korngyldent hår. Han virkede bare så sød.
I met Conor on a cold, rainy January night. He sat next to me on the New York City subway, and he started chatting me up. He told me two things. One was that he, too, had just graduated from an Ivy League school, and that he worked at a very impressive Wall Street bank. But what made the biggest impression on me that first meeting was that he was smart and funny and he looked like a farm boy. He had these big cheeks, these big apple cheeks and this wheat-blond hair, and he seemed so sweet.
Noget af det smarteste, Conor gjorde helt fra begyndelsen, var at skabe en illusion om, at den dominerende i forholdet var mig. Det gjorde han især i begyndelsen ved at forgude mig. Vi blev kærester, og han elskede alt ved mig: Jeg var klog, Harvard–uddannet, gik op i at hjælpe teenagepiger og i mit job. Han ville vide alt om min familie, min barndom, mine ønsker og drømme. Conor troede på mig som skribent og kvinde på en måde, som ingen anden nogen sinde havde gjort. Og han skabte en magisk tillidsfuld stemning mellem os ved at betro mig sin hemmelighed: At han som lille dreng, fra fire–årsalderen, var blevet brutalt fysisk mishandlet af sin stedfar igen og igen. Volden var blevet så slem, at han måtte gå ud af skolen i ottende klasse. Selv om han var virkelig kvik. Det havde taget ham næsten 20 år at genopbygge sit liv. Så universitetsgraden, jobbet i Wall Street og hans strålende fremtid betød virkelig meget for ham. Hvis nogen havde sagt til mig, at denne kloge, sjove, følsomme mand, som forgudede mig, en dag ville bestemme, om jeg skulle bruge makeup, hvor korte mine kjoler var, hvor jeg boede, hvilke job jeg tog, hvem mine venner var, og hvor jeg holdt jul, så ville jeg have leet. For der var ingen antydning af vold, kontrol eller vrede i Conor - i begyndelsen. Jeg vidste ikke, at første fase i ethvert voldeligt parforhold går ud på at forføre og charmere ofret.
One of the smartest things Conor did, from the very beginning, was to create the illusion that I was the dominant partner in the relationship. He did this especially at the beginning by idolizing me. We started dating, and he loved everything about me, that I was smart, that I'd gone to Harvard, that I was passionate about helping teenage girls, and my job. He wanted to know everything about my family and my childhood and my hopes and dreams. Conor believed in me, as a writer and a woman, in a way that no one else ever had. And he also created a magical atmosphere of trust between us by confessing his secret, which was that, as a very young boy starting at age four, he had been savagely and repeatedly physically abused by his stepfather, and the abuse had gotten so bad that he had had to drop out of school in eighth grade, even though he was very smart, and he'd spent almost 20 years rebuilding his life. Which is why that Ivy League degree and the Wall Street job and his bright shiny future meant so much to him. If you had told me that this smart, funny, sensitive man who adored me would one day dictate whether or not I wore makeup, how short my skirts were, where I lived, what jobs I took, who my friends were and where I spent Christmas, I would have laughed at you, because there was not a hint of violence or control or anger in Conor at the beginning. I didn't know that the first stage in any domestic violence relationship is to seduce and charm the victim.
Jeg vidste heller ikke, at anden fase går ud på at isolere ofret. Conor kom ikke bare hjem en dag og meddelte: "Alt det Romeo og Julie–halløj har været fedt." "Men nu vil jeg ind i næste fase, hvor jeg isolerer dig og er voldelig." "Så du må væk fra lejligheden, hvor naboerne kan høre dig skrige." "Væk fra byen, hvor du har venner, familie og kolleger, der ser mærkerne." Nej, Conor kom hjem en fredag aften og sagde, at han havde sagt sit job op. Sit drømmejob. Han sagde, at det var på grund af mig: Jeg havde fået ham til at føle sig så tryg og elsket, at han ikke behøvede præstere noget på Wall Street mere. Han ville væk fra byen og sin voldelige, samspilsramte familie og flytte til en lille by i New England, hvor han kunne begynde forfra med mig ved sin side. Det sidste, jeg ønskede, var at forlade New York ... og mit drømmejob. Men jeg tænkte, at man jo ofrede sig for sin sjæleven. Så jeg sagde ja. Jeg sagde mit job op, og Conor og jeg forlod Manhattan sammen. Jeg anede ikke, at jeg var ved at kaste mig ud i en vanvittig forelskelse. At jeg gik hovedkulds ind i en snedig fysisk, økonomisk og psykisk fælde.
I also didn't know that the second step is to isolate the victim. Now, Conor did not come home one day and announce, "You know, hey, all this Romeo and Juliet stuff has been great, but I need to move into the next phase where I isolate you and I abuse you" — (Laughter) — "so I need to get you out of this apartment where the neighbors can hear you scream and out of this city where you have friends and family and coworkers who can see the bruises." Instead, Conor came home one Friday evening and he told me that he had quit his job that day, his dream job, and he said that he had quit his job because of me, because I had made him feel so safe and loved that he didn't need to prove himself on Wall Street anymore, and he just wanted to get out of the city and away from his abusive, dysfunctional family, and move to a tiny town in New England where he could start his life over with me by his side. Now, the last thing I wanted to do was leave New York, and my dream job, but I thought you made sacrifices for your soulmate, so I agreed, and I quit my job, and Conor and I left Manhattan together. I had no idea I was falling into crazy love, that I was walking headfirst into a carefully laid physical, financial and psychological trap.
Næste fase i voldsmønstret er at indføre truslen om vold og se, hvordan hun reagerer. Det er her, pistolerne kommer ind i billedet. Så snart vi kom til New England, hvor Conor jo skulle føle sig tryg, købte han tre pistoler. Han havde en i bilens handskerum, en under vores hovedpuder, og den tredje havde han altid i lommen. Han sagde, han havde brug for de våben på grund af sine barndomstraumer. Han måtte føle sig beskyttet. Men pistolerne var reelt et budskab til mig. Selv om han ikke havde lagt hånd på mig, var jeg konstant i livsfare.
The next step in the domestic violence pattern is to introduce the threat of violence and see how she reacts. And here's where those guns come in. As soon as we moved to New England -- you know, that place where Connor was supposed to feel so safe -- he bought three guns. He kept one in the glove compartment of our car. He kept one under the pillows on our bed, and the third one he kept in his pocket at all times. And he said that he needed those guns because of the trauma he'd experienced as a young boy. He needed them to feel protected. But those guns were really a message for me, and even though he hadn't raised a hand to me, my life was already in grave danger every minute of every day.
Conor angreb mig fysisk første gang fem dage før vores bryllup. Klokken var syv om morgenen, og jeg var stadig iført natkjole. Jeg sad ved computeren og lagde sidste hånd på en freelance–artikel. Og jeg blev frustreret. Conor brugte min vrede som påskud til at lægge begge hænder om halsen på mig Og klemme så hårdt, at jeg hverken kunne ånde eller skrige. Og han brugte kvælertaget til at slå mit hoved mod væggen flere gange. Fem dage senere var de 10 blå mærker på min hals lige blegnet. Og jeg iførte mig min mors brudekjole og giftede mig med ham.
Conor first physically attacked me five days before our wedding. It was 7 a.m. I still had on my nightgown. I was working on my computer trying to finish a freelance writing assignment, and I got frustrated, and Conor used my anger as an excuse to put both of his hands around my neck and to squeeze so tightly that I could not breathe or scream, and he used the chokehold to hit my head repeatedly against the wall. Five days later, the ten bruises on my neck had just faded, and I put on my mother's wedding dress, and I married him.
Trods det, der var sket, var jeg sikker på, at vi ville leve lykkeligt til vores dages ende. For jeg elskede ham, og han elskede mig så højt. Og han var så ked af det. Han havde bare været stresset over brylluppet og udsigten til at stifte familie med mig. Det var en enkeltstående hændelse, og han ville aldrig gøre mig ondt igen.
Despite what had happened, I was sure we were going to live happily ever after, because I loved him, and he loved me so much. And he was very, very sorry. He had just been really stressed out by the wedding and by becoming a family with me. It was an isolated incident, and he was never going to hurt me again.
Det skete to gange til på bryllupsrejsen. Første gang kørte jeg bil og ville finde en hemmelig strand, men fór vild. Han stak mig en knytnæve på siden af hovedet så hårdt, at den anden side af hovedet slog mod sidevinduet flere gange. Nogle få dage senere, på vej hjem fra bryllupsrejsen, blev han frustreret over trafikken og smed en kold burger i hovedet på mig. Derefter slog Conor mig en til to gange om ugen i de næste to et halvt år.
It happened twice more on the honeymoon. The first time, I was driving to find a secret beach and I got lost, and he punched me in the side of my head so hard that the other side of my head repeatedly hit the driver's side window. And then a few days later, driving home from our honeymoon, he got frustrated by traffic, and he threw a cold Big Mac in my face. Conor proceeded to beat me once or twice a week for the next two and a half years of our marriage.
Jeg tog fejl i, at jeg var ene om at være i den situation. En ud af tre amerikanske kvinder oplever vold i hjemmet eller stalking på et tidspunkt i sit liv. Ifølge en CDC-rapport udsættes 15 millioner børn for vold på årsbasis. 15 millioner! Så jeg var i godt selskab.
I was mistaken in thinking that I was unique and alone in this situation. One in three American women experiences domestic violence or stalking at some point in her life, and the CDC reports that 15 million children are abused every year, 15 million. So actually, I was in very good company.
Tilbage til mit spørgsmål: Hvorfor blev jeg i det? Det er let at svare på: Jeg vidste ikke, jeg var voldsudsat. Selv om han holdt ladte pistoler mod mit hoved, skubbede mig ned ad trappen, truede med at dræbe vores hund, trak nøglen ud af tændingen, mens jeg kørte ud ad vejen, hældte kaffegrums ned over mig, da jeg klædte mig på til jobsamtale, tænkte jeg aldrig på mig selv som en voldsudsat hustru. I stedet var jeg en meget stærk kvinde, der var forelsket i en plaget mand. Og kun jeg kunne hjælpe Conor til at se sine dæmoner i øjnene.
Back to my question: Why did I stay? The answer is easy. I didn't know he was abusing me. Even though he held those loaded guns to my head, pushed me down stairs, threatened to kill our dog, pulled the key out of the car ignition as I drove down the highway, poured coffee grinds on my head as I dressed for a job interview, I never once thought of myself as a battered wife. Instead, I was a very strong woman in love with a deeply troubled man, and I was the only person on Earth who could help Conor face his demons.
Det andet spørgsmål, som alle stiller, er: "Hvorfor går hun ikke bare?" Hvorfor gik jeg ikke min vej? Det kunne jeg have gjort når som helst. Det er for mig det sørgeligste og mest smertefulde spørgsmål. For vi ofre ved noget, I som regel ikke ved. Det er utrolig farligt at forlade en voldelig partner. For sidste trin i voldsmønstret er: "Dræb hende." Over 70% af partnerdrabene sker, efter at ofret har gjort det forbi. Efter hun er sluppet ud. For så har voldsmanden ikke mere at miste. I andre tilfælde fører det til langvarig stalking. Selv efter at voldsmanden gifter sig igen. Tilbageholdelse af økonomiske midler og manipulering af retssystemet for at skræmme ofret og hendes børn, som jævnligt tvinges af dommere ved familiedomstole til at opholde sig uden opsyn hos den mand, som slog deres mor. Alligevel spørger vi: "Hvorfor går hun ikke bare?"
The other question everybody asks is, why doesn't she just leave? Why didn't I walk out? I could have left any time. To me, this is the saddest and most painful question that people ask, because we victims know something you usually don't: It's incredibly dangerous to leave an abuser. Because the final step in the domestic violence pattern is kill her. Over 70 percent of domestic violence murders happen after the victim has ended the relationship, after she's gotten out, because then the abuser has nothing left to lose. Other outcomes include long-term stalking, even after the abuser remarries; denial of financial resources; and manipulation of the family court system to terrify the victim and her children, who are regularly forced by family court judges to spend unsupervised time with the man who beat their mother. And still we ask, why doesn't she just leave?
Jeg var i stand til at gå på grund af en sidste sadistisk mishandling, som slog hul på min benægtelse. Det gik op for mig, at den mand, jeg elskede så højt, ville slå mig ihjel, hvis jeg lod ham gøre det. Så jeg brød tavsheden. Jeg fortalte alle det. Politiet, mine naboer, mine venner og min familie. Vildtfremmede. Og jeg er her i dag, fordi I alle sammen har hjulpet mig.
I was able to leave, because of one final, sadistic beating that broke through my denial. I realized that the man who I loved so much was going to kill me if I let him. So I broke the silence. I told everyone: the police, my neighbors, my friends and family, total strangers, and I'm here today because you all helped me.
Vi har det med at skære ofrene over en kam som uhyggelige overskrifter, selv–destruktive kvinder, beskadigede varer. Spørgsmålet: "Hvorfor bliver hun?" er hos nogle en kode for:"Hun er selv ude om det, fordi hun bliver." Som om vi ofre aktivt vælger at falde for mænd, der vil knuse os.
We tend to stereotype victims as grisly headlines, self-destructive women, damaged goods. The question, "Why does she stay?" is code for some people for, "It's her fault for staying," as if victims intentionally choose to fall in love with men intent upon destroying us.
Men siden jeg udgav "Crazy Love" har jeg hørt hundredvis af historier fra mænd og kvinder, som slap væk. Som har draget en uvurderlig lære for livet af det, der er sket. Og som har genopbygget deres liv, et glædefyldt, lykkeligt liv, som ansatte, hustruer og mødre. Et liv helt uden vold.Som jeg selv. Det har vist sig, at jeg er et typisk offer for vold i hjemmet. Og en typisk overlevende fra vold i hjemmet. Jeg giftede mig anden gang med en rar og blid mand. Vi har de tre børn. Jeg har den sorte Labrador og minivanen. Hvad jeg aldrig mere vil have, nogen sinde, er en ladt pistol holdt mod mit hoved af en, der siger, at han elsker mig.
But since publishing "Crazy Love," I have heard hundreds of stories from men and women who also got out, who learned an invaluable life lesson from what happened, and who rebuilt lives -- joyous, happy lives -- as employees, wives and mothers, lives completely free of violence, like me. Because it turns out that I'm actually a very typical domestic violence victim and a typical domestic violence survivor. I remarried a kind and gentle man, and we have those three kids. I have that black lab, and I have that minivan. What I will never have again, ever, is a loaded gun held to my head by someone who says that he loves me.
Lige nu tænker I måske: "Hvor er det fascinerende." Eller: "Hvor har hun dog været dum." Men jeg har faktisk hele tiden talt om jer. Jeg lover jer, at der er flere, der hører på mig her, som lige nu er voldsudsatte. Eller som blev udsat for vold som børn. Eller som selv begår vold. Vold kan ramme din datter, din søster, din bedste veninde lige nu.
Right now, maybe you're thinking, "Wow, this is fascinating," or, "Wow, how stupid was she," but this whole time, I've actually been talking about you. I promise you there are several people listening to me right now who are currently being abused or who were abused as children or who are abusers themselves. Abuse could be affecting your daughter, your sister, your best friend right now.
Det lykkedes mig at gøre min egen vanvittige kærlighedshistorie forbi. Ved at bryde tavsheden. Jeg bryder stadig tavsheden i dag. Det er sådan, jeg hjælper andre ofre. Og det er min sidste bøn til jer: Tal om det, I har hørt her. Vold trives kun i tavshed. I har magten til at gøre op med vold i hjemmet. Simpelthen ved at kaste lys på det. Vi ofre har brug for, at I alle sammen forstår hemmeligheden om vold i hjemmet. Bring volden frem i lyset ved at tale om den med jeres børn, jeres kolleger, jeres venner og familie. Få et nyt syn på de overlevende som dejlige, elskelige mennesker med en indholdsrig fremtid. Få øje på de første tegn på vold. Og grib ansvarsbevidst ind, nedtrap volden, vis ofrene en sikker vej ud. Sammen kan vi gøre vores senge, middagsborde og familier til de trygge og fredelige oaser, som de bør være.
I was able to end my own crazy love story by breaking the silence. I'm still breaking the silence today. It's my way of helping other victims, and it's my final request of you. Talk about what you heard here. Abuse thrives only in silence. You have the power to end domestic violence simply by shining a spotlight on it. We victims need everyone. We need every one of you to understand the secrets of domestic violence. Show abuse the light of day by talking about it with your children, your coworkers, your friends and family. Recast survivors as wonderful, lovable people with full futures. Recognize the early signs of violence and conscientiously intervene, deescalate it, show victims a safe way out. Together we can make our beds, our dinner tables and our families the safe and peaceful oases they should be.
Tak.
Thank you.
(Bifald)
(Applause)