key: cord-0058941-d20nh1q9
authors: Hodes, Catherine
title: Safety Planning with Survivors of Domestic Violence: How COVID-19 Shifts the Focus
date: 2020-09-29
journal: Shared Trauma, Shared Resilience During a Pandemic
DOI: 10.1007/978-3-030-61442-3_7
sha: 656e459394c91883daad96ce07231fce6af944ac
doc_id: 58941
cord_uid: d20nh1q9

Safety from an abusive partner is often defined by the act of leaving the relationship. Challenges to this paradigm include evidence that leaving can increase danger, at least in the short term, and the fact that mainstream solutions associated with leaving have historically ill-served victims marginalized by race, gender identity, disability, language, or immigration status. Nonetheless, leaving remains a primary focus of planning for safety from an abusive partner. The COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in home quarantine, the shutdown of courts that most often hear abuse cases, slowdowns in obtaining orders of protection due to remote access being inconsistent, and domestic violence shelters that cannot accept new residents, while practicing adequate social distancing and protective health measures. COVID-19 has forced domestic violence advocates to grapple with safety options other than leaving. What follows is some of what we are learning under COVID-19 about the daily lives and options for survivors of intimate partner abuse and their families, especially those living with, or in close contact with, an abuser.

Living with the fear and uncertainty of a global pandemic is traumatizing, and many people will experience states of emotional withdrawal, panic, defensiveness, overor under-functioning, and despair. Such responses are normal in adverse circumstances but can put couples and families at risk of heightened conflict. Where people are struggling with increased tension and conflict at home, improved communication skills, boundary setting, and de-escalation tools can help mitigate relational stress. Such tools have become increasingly available via webinars and online trainings intended to assist with coping during the COVID-19 crisis (e.g., see Impact Boston). As we dealt with the realities of lockdown, advocates wondered if strategies of avoidance, de-escalation, and conflict management might also hold potential for survivors of abuse trying to maintain equilibrium under the increased stress and changes associated with the pandemic.

When discussing accountability, we rightly draw bright lines between the abuser's choices and behaviors and those of their target. Understandably, no advocate wants to imply that a survivor has caused or should manage an abuser's behavior, much less put them at risk from the abuser (or from law enforcement), by employing confrontational strategies. Yet managing daily, low-level, and chronic risk is more the hallmark of abusive relationships than acute crises. Could de-escalation and stress management strategies assist survivors in close proximity to their abusers? These nuanced tools include creating zones of safety such as:

• Scheduling time in different parts of the home • Walks, exercise, or running errands separately from one's partner • Keeping a schedule for children's meals, wake-up, learning, and bedtime • Creating as much calm at home as possible, using television, games, puzzles, or music that family members can do on their own or together Also important is identifying points of access that already exist in the survivor's circle or the possibility of developing new ones. These might include:

• Arranging for a trusted neighbor, friend, or family member to call and check in regularly • Connecting to someone the abuser trusts, like a relative, friend, or faith leader who also cares about safety, having them stay in close touch with the abuser • Creating a safe "pod" of neighbors/family/friends who are managing the pandemic in mutually agreed-upon ways, in order to share childcare, homeschooling, errands, and so on These de-escalation and stress management strategies can offer a measure of control, and many survivors already employ such tools, though we often do not acknowledge them as safety plans. The advent of COVID-19 has provided advocates with a moment to pause and look more deeply, and with humility, at the ways in which survivors understand and employ safety strategies.

Jill Davies (2017) defines "survivor-centered advocacy" as that which privileges the needs and priorities determined by survivors. Advocates have worked to become expert at helping survivors plan for safety but have conflated that expertise with being in control of survivor safety. Under COVID-19, we are reminded that safety planning is not about advocate expertise or control; it's about options that make sense for the survivor, assisting them to assess their own resources and making unique safety determinations in the present moment. No safety plan was ever a guarantee of safety or a permanent solution to danger or abuse. By definition, safety plans are temporary, dynamic, and relevant to context. Instead of offering solutions, advocates can use their relational skills, such as open-ended questions, to help explore and expand the survivor's narrative around options for safety. Such questions include:

• How have you been navigating safety at home so far? • What has worked, what isn't working, and what's changing? • What's your biggest safety worry at the moment?

• What are your thoughts about how this situation could improve?

• What might create more space and reduce tension for everyone? • Do you have access to any social supports ("quaran-teams," pods, mutual aid)? • Do you have access to home computers, tablets, or smartphones, as well as

Internet connection for all family members?

In the following scenario, an advocate talks with D, a Latinx woman living in a midsize town, locked down at home with her partner who has been explosive and abusive in the past. D has been laid off from her job at a retail store, and her two children, ages 7 and 10, are attending school virtually a few hours per day. Both children use an old family desktop computer in the living room, while their father works as a warehouse inventory manager on an employer-issued laptop in the bedroom. D stepped out onto the front stoop to speak with the advocate (A) by phone, while her partner was working and the children were eating lunch in the kitchen and watching TV. Here the focus was on immediate needs and strategies, how to maintain equilibrium, and think through points of access D already has. With mainstream safety tools less operational under COVID-19 restrictions, the advocate needed to trust D's own assessment of her safety and options. They could not take control of the situation and offer solutions but could listen actively and closely and support D in identifying self-generated options. The lesson here is in the listening, the ability to empower survivors as resources. This is the kind of empowerment Davies (2017) discusses and to which we have long paid lip service but lost touch with as the field institutionalized. Though it may feel like "doing less," witnessing, listening deeply, maintaining contact, and partnering with survivors in exploring their unique circumstances on their own terms are the definition of survivor empowerment.

We often think of technology negatively, as a means for abusers to stalk or monitor their targets, but there are important ways that technology can keep survivors connected and reduce isolation. As we move away from in-person contact, being able to talk and text with survivors via phone is an important option for safe communication. Safe technology access, including stable Wi-Fi, encrypted platforms that meet privacy and confidentiality standards, low-cost or free tablets or smartphones, and clear information about tech safety, including how to log out of sites, delete history, and protect passwords, might well be the most crucial safety tools we can develop during the pandemic (Hodes 2020).

It's a heavy lift, but the reality is that the domestic violence field is behind the curve in terms of supporting survivors in gaining access to technology and related safety skills. Domestic violence shelters struggle with residents having cell phones and computer access due to confidentiality violations and fears of being located. Some shelters still restrict cell phone use or refuse to provide Internet access. Instead of avoiding technology, the field must recognize these tools as having the potential to contribute to survivor empowerment and autonomy. Partnering with organizations, such as the National Network to End Domestic Violence (see Technology Safety Toolkit), to better understand safe technology and educate survivors in its use is an area for ongoing advocacy post-COVID-19.

In some cases, survivors may wish to learn skills to set assertive boundaries and even physically protect themselves from abuse. These are controversial topics. The concern that confronting an abuser might result in escalation and the fact that selfdefense may not be recognized by law enforcement mean these protective measures come with risk but so does living with an abuser. Many of us have been taught that the way to stay safe when being threatened is to cooperate with the attacker. Many targets of abuse do that, only to find that compliance can cause anger and retaliation as well. One survivor I worked with shared that their abuser hit them for "daring" to make eye contact and then later hit them for "refusing" to make eye contact. There is no single abuser profile, and it will always be hard to predict the outcome of any safety strategy. That is why it's important to understand that the failure of a safety plan is never the fault of the target or the advocate but always the fault of the perpetrator.

In this time of increased isolation and reduced options, we cannot withhold information about strategies and skills that might make a difference to any survivor managing contact with an abuser. Organizations that offer training in empowerment self-defense, such as verbal boundary setting, evasive tactics, blocking blows, and striking primary bodily targets, have put extensive information and demonstrations online in virtual workshops (see Center for Anti-Violence Education, Brooklyn, New York). Gaining access to such information can be fundamentally empowering when providers communicate unequivocally that survivors have as much right to protect themselves as anybody else. After viewing such a workshop on a smartphone in their car (out of earshot of their partner), one survivor said, "I don't know if I'd ever do anything like that. I hope I don't have to, but it's inspiring to know about."

In the midst of a global pandemic, public messaging to those who might abuse could be key to reducing harm (Areán and Strodthoff 2020) . Historically, intervention with abusers has been tied to court systems, mandated, and fee-based. With such systems less operational, nonpunitive, non-mandated, and free supports made widely available for anyone who felt at risk of overcontrolling, threatening, or hurting their partner seem obvious, yet these strategies are missing.

Organizations could partner with domestic violence advocates as well as those who have developed abuser education and intervention to craft messaging and supports for those who might abuse. Points of entry could include faith communities, many of which have gone remote, as well as health, mental health, and other community-based programs. Noninstitutional and nonsectarian organizations, such as "She Is Not Your Rehab" in New Zealand, have social media presence and approach violence prevention from a community and cultural standpoint, encouraging those at risk of causing harm to seek support and learn new ways of coping and having safer, healthy relationships, (e.g., see She is Not Your Rehab). Other relational and culturally informed models, including those that offer alternatives to traditional masculinity/control paradigms, have demonstrated success in providing the kind of support and empathic accountability many abusers need to shift their behavior and thus prevent violence (Almeida and Lockard 2005) . When accessible resources for those at risk of abusing increases while the stigma of seeking support decreases, there may be a rise in survivors' ability to access supports as well, reducing isolation and increasing safety for everyone. This challenging time is also an opportunity to apply efforts to researching such responses more deeply.

The COVID-19 pandemic has impacted many institutional safety options for survivors of domestic violence, including obtaining court orders of protection, attending in-person support services, or entering a shelter. As a result, advocates have had to explore new avenues and messages in preventing and addressing abuse, increasing safety, and intervening with survivors. Maintaining contact is central in this time of isolation and distance. Connecting survivors to smartphones, netbooks, or tablets, which are portable and more easily concealed, will allow them greater access to workshops, support groups, and information they desperately need. Access for children in the form of child-friendly tablets would support their safety by occupying them at home and increasing their engagement with the outside world. One domestic violence program is considering using COVID-19-related funding to build a tech access project for survivors, including the purchase of devices for distribution and the creation of a user-friendly safety skills manual. For many poor and rural communities, advocacy will be needed in order to make low-cost and free Internet service connection available.

Survivor-focused advocacy, in which the knowledge, needs, and experiences of each survivor is prioritized over what advocates may be most familiar with, is vital in this unprecedented and difficult time. Communication skills, boundary setting, conflict management, avoidance and de-escalation strategies, and information about self-defense are being made more widely available through remote access, and while they may not be appropriate or possible for all survivors, they may well be worthwhile and empowering options for many. In the interest of increasing resources and options for families struggling under lockdown, we must also advocate for options to be available to perpetrators of abuse. While we may not be the ones to provide these services directly, we can partner with and vet those who do or those who are willing.

As advocates, we experience fear on behalf of those we work with, and shared trauma (Tosone 2012) is inevitable, as we all cope with the COVID-19 reality. But in spite of the loss of familiar tools, we do not need to be paralyzed or despairing around planning for safety with survivors. There are options and ideas worth exploring, some that return us to our roots of empowerment and activism and others that focus on community involvement and accountability, all of which will likely serve us well beyond this moment.

Domestic violence at the margins: Readings at the intersection of race, class, gender & culture

The other side of domestic violence: helping survivors by working with their abusive partners

Victim-defined safety planning: A summary

To become safer amid pandemic we must explore our response to buse more deeply

Why a drop in domestic violence reports may not be a good sign

Shared trauma