It’s time to talk about domestic violence

Editor’s note: This article discusses research about domestic violence and suicide.

 

Each time a major sporting event occurs, like the recent World Cup tournament, I see posts on social media about domestic violence.

Did you know domestic violence rates rise by 26% in UK homes each time England’s football team plays, and 38% when they lose? And roughly 10% in American homes each time an NFL team suffers an upset loss?

But domestic violence is not just a sports problem. It’s a big deal all the time, everywhere.

Did you know, according to the FBI’s most recent Domestic Violence Special Report, the percentage of violent crimes involving domestic relationships increased each year from 2020 to 2024 in the United States? The most common weapons are hands, fists, feet or other body parts.

Did you know nearly one-third of partnered Turkish women have experienced domestic violence, and there are gaps in legal avenues for them? Or that women in Afghanistan cannot press charges for domestic violence unless they have visible injuries or broken bones, and can be imprisoned for visiting their families too often without their husband’s permission?

Did you know American women are five times more likely than American men to be murdered by an intimate partner? Did you know 69% of deaths among pregnant women are homicides, usually committed by intimate partners or close relatives/friends?

You probably didn’t know these things.

They’re not fun to think about, but it’s likely they’re happening to someone you know. It’s hard to believe, and conversations about it are uncomfortable.

But we need to talk about domestic violence.

More than contact violence

Recently, BNG writer Mara Richards Bim made a big splash in this conversation with her reflection on R.L. Stollar’s public suicide note. In the note, which is no longer public, Stollar said his impending divorce was, in part, cause for his choice to die. He presented this choice as well thought out, sensical and reasonable — as if he had no other choice to make.

Bim called this “cruel,” saying Stollar “used his final written act to eviscerate his wife.”

She didn’t use the term “domestic violence,” but she did name this as an act of abuse, which she received an incredible deal of lashes for online. In the most recent episode of BNG’s “Stuck in the Middle with You,” Bim admitted the hateful comments were so intense she, for the first time in her career, had to disable comments on her public social media page.

Her article, at its core, asked readers to think about the ways we discuss suicide. She wondered about the potential ramifications of gentle language in cases where suicidality could be considered an abuse tactic.

And I think she made an important point, albeit a very uncomfortable one.

When you first read the facts about domestic violence at the top of this article, you probably imagined instances of contact violence, in which an aggressor uses physical force against their victim to harm, coerce or instill obedience-inducing fear in them. Examples include things like hitting, punching, slapping, kicking or contact sexual abuse.

But domestic violence itself has a much broader scope.

It encompasses things like emotional, spiritual or psychological manipulation. Examples include public or private humiliation, using religious beliefs to control someone or verbal or written threats of violence. Aggressors often use a combination of physical and nonphysical tactics in their efforts to abuse.

One of those tactics can be threats of suicide.

One of those tactics can be threats of suicide.

According to a 2023 NIH study on various aspects of domestic violence, perpetrators “may threaten suicide as a form of coercive control over the person against whom they use violence.” Just like a threat against the physical well-being of their victim, threats of self-harm and suicide should be considered credible. This means they intend to force a victim to comply with the aggressor’s wishes and violence is likely to be carried out if the victim chooses not to comply.

“Abuser threats of suicide signal elevated risk of violence to victim-survivors and are considered a risk factor for lethal domestic violence, including intimate partner homicide-suicide,” the NIH researchers said.

In addition to intimate partners, these threats raise the risk factor for anyone else living in the home (such as children or extended family) to be injured or murdered. This risk factor increases further if a firearm is in the home.

And while suicidality ought to go hand in hand with conversations about mental illness, the Resource Center on Domestic Violence says it is “critical to remember that mental illness does not cause domestic violence.” Research shows that, while an aggressor may be both suicidal and abusive at the same time, there is no research linking mental illness as a causative factor of abuse.

The reality, researchers say, is that aggressors sometimes use the idea of suicidality as a weapon to control their victims. Sometimes they are truly suicidal and intend to carry out their threats against themselves. Other times they simply know this threat will shock their victim enough to illicit submission.

In either situation, researchers say violence of some kind is imminent following these threats.

When an aggressor completes a suicide attempt that was threatened, their intentions to die and cause irreparable harm are fulfilled at once. Their control over themselves and their victims is (theoretically) set in stone by carrying out this final, painful and grief-inducing act.

Threats and actions like this do irreparable damage to both victims and abusers.

Complex pain

I’m not qualified to make a ruling about whether Stollar was a domestic abuser, although I think Bim makes an important point about his note. I felt incredibly conflicted when I saw the blog post pop up in my feed.

Ought I to stand with a known survivor of childhood sexual abuse in a clear state of suffering he felt drowned by, who spent much of his adult life advocating for children enduring similar traumas? Ought I to stand by his wife and family, who must now live with the fact that his note cited their relationships with him as factors in his decision to die?

Aggressors who use suicide as a tool want us to feel empathy for them. They want us to have an excuse for any pain they inflict on victims, whom they claim are responsible for their suffering.

I read and re-read the note but couldn’t figure out who the victim was. Where was the clear line? Who suffered more? Which suffering mattered? The event is both indicative of Stollar’s anguish and the cause of others’ pain.

This is the difficulty of weaponized suicidality: It confuses our ability to identify victims and aggressors. And that’s the intent. Aggressors who use suicide as a tool want us to feel empathy for them. They want us to have an excuse for any pain they inflict on victims, whom they claim are responsible for their suffering.

These kinds of deaths are tragedies on numerous levels. Certainly, this includes Stollar’s death. In his particular case, it is both true and unfair that:

• His real-life mental anguish related to his own experiences of abuse during childhood caused him to suffer.
• His final note assigned blame to his wife and other loved ones for his suicidality.

The pain of the former does not justify the latter, nor does the “cruel” way in which he chose to die erase any good he did as a survivor and advocate. We are allowed to acknowledge that he contributed good to the world and he made decisions to hurt others.

All around, his suicide was a painful thing. In the midst of this complexity, we are allowed to name the various ways in which his suicide represented or caused that pain.

And for the sake and safety of everyone involved, we ought to take this type of pain (and threats of it) seriously.

 

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidality, call or text 988 or visit the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, call 1-800-799-SAFE, text “START” to 88788 or visit the National Domestic Violence Hotline.

 

Mallory Challis is a former Clemons Fellow with BNG. She is a recent graduate from the master of divinity program at Wake Forest University School of Divinity. She is creator and host of the BNG podcast “Non-Disclosure,” about child sexual abuse at Kamp Kanakuk.