Covid and Feminisms
On March 25th 2021, the Pandemic Perspectives group invited PGR Feminisms to lead a session on ‘Covid and Feminisms’. Founded by Alice Seville and Marie Allegre (PhD literature researchers University of Birmingham) and co-ran with sociologist Rianne Houghton (PhD Social Work and Social care UoB), the PGR Feminisms group is a monthly reading group and research network whose mission is to ‘examine feminisms in all their diversity’. Alice Seville presented on both ‘Some landmarks for feminists amid the Pandemic’ and ‘Approaching feminisms: Philosophic schematics of such’ and Rianne Houghton on ‘Coronavirus and Domestic Violence: Are we experiencing a ‘shadow pandemic?’ To do justice to the their work – (and although the subsequent debate was lively and extraordinarily fruitful) – no summary has been attempted, and their presentations are recorded here in their own words. I am certain you will find them as illuminating, challenging and important as the session’s large audience did.
Alice Seville. I had promised to give an overview of world events concerning feminisms amid the pandemic, and needless to say a great deal has happened which would fall under this banner. Amid the particularly torrid news cycle of the last few weeks, my mind reeled somewhat at the task of documenting the experience of half of humanity. However, I will touch upon some of the biggest seismic factors which we have seen since the onset of Covid-19 – though forgive any omissions. Obviously it would be impossible; indeed farcical; to attempt to be exhaustive. In fact, later I am going to touch upon how the requirements of research itself give rise to questions about feminisms and the pursuance of feminist goals, in light of how we orient ourselves as intellectual and personal subjects.
Some landmark moments for feminists amid the pandemic Since coronavirus was first identified in December 2019, we have not only seen the virus irrevocably alter life in at least 219 countries and territories to date (Worldometer) but we have seen how human rights violations which were pervasive before the pandemic, have been wildly and chaotically amplified by the emergency conditions. We have witnessed how emergency conditions have been used as a rhetorical veil behind which we have seen the erosion of our civil liberties, as measures which concretise the power of the right are disingenuously paraded before us as munificent protection measures for our benefit. That said, many academics working in the fields of feminisms, gender studies, sociology and journalism specifically, to name a few, have endeavoured to publicly enquire after whether or not the pandemic has impacted women particularly in an unprecedented way. In order to answer such a question, we must of course give credence to the fact that the worldwide buttressing of patriarchal ideals (and the likewise erosion of female liberties) takes a variety of forms, even if we might reason after the ways diverse iterations of patriarchy emerge from similar psychological and philosophical wellsprings.
The FSG – an international consultancy organ which aids corporations and non-profits – isolated a set of key factors affecting women and girls worldwide (in light of the onset of the pandemic) in May ‘20. This included economic factors such as job losses, reduced financial independence and future prospects and a disproportionate burden of domestic care and labour. Then, under the banner of health and wellbeing: the increased risk of pregnancy-related deaths, the lack of appropriate pregnancy related care and unwanted teen pregnancies (implicitly, problems to do with access to abortion), in addition to spikes in physical, sexual and domestic violence and exploitation (which some have called The Shadow Pandemic due to the alarming worldwide growth and prevalence of these factors). Then, within the healthcare system: there is the increased risk of catching covid by a frontline healthcare workforce and, on the flip side, there is reduced access to vital healthcare services required by women in particular, as well as possible exclusion from coronavirus treatment.
We might say these categories provide umbrellas, under which many problems faced by women might conceivably sit, but we must also appreciate this early assessment’s reductive qualities and look to other specific examples of cultural phenomena such as: the effect of the covid pandemic on sex work and the women who subsist on it –Elene Lam wrote on this for the International Social Work journal last year; the risk girls face in terms of being subjected to FGM while out of school (e.g. ‘Why coronavirus has placed millions more girls at risk of FGM’, Guardian, Katie Hodal, June 2020; and other issues which we must see as integral to feminisms; rather than compartmentalising them as mere LGBTQ concerns; such as the covert, or at times flagrant, erosion of trans rights in public policy worldwide (e.g. Breslow for LSE blog, Reid for Human Rights Watch).
In addition, in multiple countries across the world women have marched for their rights since the pandemic began (most recently widely in the UK as a response to the Sarah Everard case, and in Australia.) The Australian wave of protests were spurred by a recent wave of allegations of sexual assault, centred around Australia’s parliament. Feminists have also marched widely in the United States, ‘20-21. In March ‘20, with high profile demos, feminists opposed femicide and violence against women in Mexico: feminists in Mexico singled out the President as having turned a blind eye to atrocities; a pervasive violence that kills more than 10 women a day. Indeed, these demonstrations followed from a strike the previous year to protest the dizzying femicide rates in Mexico, since nearly 4,000 Mexican women were killed as suspected femicides in 2019. In October ‘20, Nigeria also saw its largest mass protest in almost a decade, in response to torture, abuse, rape and extrajudicial executions conducted by police. Many women and self-professed feminists led and contributed to the END SARS protests in Nigeria, opposing the so-called SARS police unit. Anti-femicide activists also took to the streets of Namibia in the same month, and the government eventually responded to protests by promising to strengthen policy to oppose violence against women and girls in the country. Women in India have also been protesting on and off throughout this year, in New Delhi and across India, both to support the farmer’s and agricultural protests but also to bring notice to, and oppose, the ubiquity of rape and a lack of justice for rape victims in India. In a November 2020 report, entitled, Justice Denied: Sexual Violence & Intersectional Discrimination – Barriers to Accessing Justice for Dalit Women and Girls in Haryana, India, grassroots activists stated that rape (including gang rape in the definition) is: “systematically utilized as [a weapon] by dominant castes to oppress Dalit women and girls and reinforce structural gender and caste hierarchies.” According to the latest data from the National Crime Records Bureau, an average of 87 rape cases were reported every day in 2019 in India, and many Indian women who have been exposed to sexual violence have transformed themselves into passionate human rights advocates as a response to the ordeal. In addition Black Lives Matter marches have opposed continued violent racial inequalities around the world and have bravely highlighted the double-subjugation and double-alienation conferred upon black female subjects: according to an online map by geographic systems analyst Alex Smith – who collected emails from BLM representatives to create an online map of protest sites, there have been protests in 4446 cities or towns worldwide to date, since the 25th May last year.
I also perhaps should briefly mention the sparse wins the feminist movement has benefited from since the onset of the pandemic: Argentina legalised abortion in a landmark moment in December ‘20, and in January this year Pakistani courts officially discontinued the humiliating so-called “virginity tests” which had historically been applied by default to women reporting rape.
Yet now I have delineated some of the specific news items, and the fierce movements and struggles for freedom they represent, which I think cannot be justly condensed into easy soundbites and figures, I would like to speak a little about the personal emotion I felt when approaching this task.
Approaching feminisms; philosophical schematics of such
I must emphasise that no one asked me to delineate these historic moments for Pandemic Perspectives (a timeline of historical landmarks for women amid the pandemic) but in my attempt to do so, I was brought up against some interesting questions about how we treat and indeed annex feminisms in our intellectual lives. I am not a historian, and I’m not a gender studies or sociology scholar, either: I’m actually in poetry criticism, but I decided to set up our network PGR Feminisms (tweeting @PGRfeminisms) (alongside Marie and now joined by Rianne) to facilitate feminisms for some personal reasons to do with how my education journey was hampered by countless varied experiences of sexism. I wanted undergraduate and postgraduate women to feel seen and heard at UoB, by a network flying the flag, in a way that I did not necessarily, always, or, to put it another way: I wouldn’t have known where to start in terms of looking for support, during my own undergraduate degree, partly because I still did not understand fully what tools I needed to identify as a feminist then, and grow into the title. Perhaps this is an ongoing journey.
Perhaps borrowing a little unfairly, in terms of transposed concepts, from W.E.B Du Bois, who was one of the most notable figures after Marx to further ideas about estranged consciousness, in his work The Souls of Black Folk (1903), I have evolved something of an estranged consciousness model when I look at feminisms in 2021, living in the full fury of the information age and under the auspices of a rabid technocracy and the social media cartels. It is not my place to elide the difference between racial discrimination and gender discrimination and I have no wish to claim I have experienced subjugation on the level of other women: I have not. I merely want to point out that in particular, Du Bois’ idea has been foundational to my own understanding of what it is to belong to a subjugated demographic, because he helped me to understand the idea of a double identity, a double consciousness, and a sense of double compunction to perform certain rites and rituals, to maintain the minimum requirements of human subjecthood. We must preserve distinctions between the severity of different types of oppression, even where we understand that ideas about one type may be radical, beautiful, and expansive enough to serve as instructive signifiers in other contexts, if given proper exposition.
And I think a type of intersectional “estranged consciousness” model might be useful here for parsing current events and how they are received by globally-focused feminists: it is useful to point out that as a general rule, cis men are meant to process the news as that which is happening to humankind, aka them. I would argue that as a general rule more estranged and alienated demographics are impelled to consume the news on multiple levels, in order to take in both: that which is relevant to generic ‘citizens’ (aka the primary category of human beings skewed demonstrably in favour of able-bodied, cis, white, Western, economically viable and vertiginously ambitious men) and then to a secondary degree, the news relevant to everybody else.
Therefore, in my view to be discursively viable as a feminist in multiple disciplinary realms requires a perennial kind of double education and a compunction to be soundly and doubly educated, in a public setting, which is then weighed against your slighter chances of excelling in academia as a woman, (e.g. Barriers to women’s representation in academic excellence and positions of power – Rizwana Yousaf and Rudi Schmiede, Asian Journal of German and European Studies, 2017) By all this I mean, the very informatics we live by in addition to the cultures of stoicism and perennial faultless expertise we privilege, in educated communities, mean that logically speaking (if we permit in an oppressed demographic that a road to authentic subjecthood requires knowledge of the modes of your oppression and the means to negotiate them) in an alienated and oppressed demographic you are in fact expected to be doubly or triply educated to get half as far.
A quest for authentic subjecthood is in fact more concept-dense among alienated demographics who must understand the world’s news, then their news too. This is if you wish to be deemed a viable intellectual subject in the eyes of your colleagues, but also one ingenuous enough to hunt for representations of your own alienated people in the world about you to feel right with yourself and your peers. Theoretically, you must also choose between excellence in a canon of mostly unvaried patriarchal positioning, or, seek excellence in an area which you will then be asked to convey to hegemonic subjects as a fringe concern. In short, the hierachised informational spheres in which we move provoke a kind of doubleness or multiplicity, with greater propensity to burnout in the alienated subject. In short this is another kind of labour we confer upon the pre-exhausted. What’s more, women are obliged to supply impeccable witness to both the world’s news and their own news too, in the settings where your public persona is meant to galvanise the women’s movement merely by stint of its appearance of infallibility, strength, resilience, flexibility, perennial readiness, informational scope and a conviction which simulates masculine traditions simultaneously tempered by a less intimidating understanding you might be wrong or in need of adapting your position. This reminds me of a quote from the journalist Hadley Freeman, who, in a feminist opinion piece for The Guardian in 2019, wrote: “Where women were once harangued about getting a man, today they are merely expected to be perfect: strong but not too opinionated; high-achieving but perfectly groomed; successful but not intimidating; feminist but accommodating to the male point of view…” But this idea of subjugated multiplicity also reminds me of my experience of transitioning between institutions in my academic career and understanding that, while feminists texts did fleetingly feature on syllabi, my love of feminist literature would always be regarded as an annexed and comparatively fringe concern when compared with the formidability and centrality of the (mandatory) poetic canon.
I think it should be reasonably clear where I am going with this, which is, appreciating the scale of the events I have described along with so many others not known to us, I think it should be patently clear to all of us that we simply cannot go on this way. ‘Time is up’, for us to begin to question, from a philosophical point of view, the ways our entire framing of feminisms may actually reconstitute patriarchy, by forcing feminisms to operate as a fringe constituent part of a wider (I would argue more authenticated, respected and indeed funded) movement concerning “human rights” and “human” history.
As I’ve mentioned, it’s my belief that to be a woman is to be required to competently straddle multiple, even mutually exclusive, informational and discursive fields in order to appear to be a knowledgeable subject who is herself a viable representative of her kind. One might counter this with the argument that this is just what it is to be a human, now, in the information age: that the responsibilities might be no different for a white working class cis male in capitalism, for example. Of course, this is a fallacious argument in the sense that hierarchies are stratified the same within the same category – women are agents of capitalism too – so say, it is still harder to be a working class woman in academia, who must know history, women’s history, working class history, and women’s working class history to be an effective historian (and human being in their own estimation). But I would also certainly counter such an argument by asking more simply, “What would you think of a cis woman you met this year in your discursive field who knew nothing about feminism?” And then: “What would you think of a man in the same position?” I think this says everything we need to know about the discursive tendency to make women the de facto perennial vanguard of feminisms, and this is of itself an act of essentialism (paradoxically, arguably the wellspring of patriarchy).
There are reasons for this casting of feminisms as a woman’s issue, of course – women are thought to be the most faithful witnesses to their own subjugated role. I see the logical, sociological and emotional grounds for this – and there is also of course joy and emancipation to be found in intra-female solidarity. But by casting feminisms as an issue and a discourse among women we annex it as a kind of moral problem with a wishy-washy provenance. Men are conveniently cast out of the picture of men’s aggression, and, by extension, men’s complicity is cast out of the picture too – which could be cast as its own form of aggression, of course.
This relates to a comment made by the writer Anne Enright, who, in response to the Sarah Everard case and ensuing protests and disputes, wrote: “Men do not just disappear in court, they disappear from the discussion, they disappear from the language we use. Rape is described as “a women’s issue”. We speak of “women’s safety concerns”, not “concerns about men’s violence”. We call it “an abusive relationship” as though the relationship were doing the abusing, or an “abusive home” as though the walls were insulting the occupants for fun. The notorious line “she was asking for it” is not so different to “a woman was raped”; both take the rapist out of the sentence.”
The only way to rehabilitate feminisms as what it is: a fundamental and immutable pillar of human rights, and the deconstruction of a pervasive synthesis of characteristics which affect every part of our lives, men’s lives and women’s… the only way for this to happen now is for more men to take up feminisms in a more active, sophisticated and sincere way – and in my view, this means understanding what psychological factors cause essentialisms, but men must also not believe they can shortcut, intuit or ‘wing’ feminist discourse while also refusing to fully interrogate the depth and profundity of this line of work.
In order to acknowledge and carry forward feminisms, men must not reward themselves for fleeting and tokenistic acts of generosity toward females (or figure these acts as such in their minds) but men must acknowledge, then redress, not only women’s estranged mode of being doubly educated but also the ways in which men have passed viably through the upper echelons of the world being doubly as ignorant. We must ask ourselves, in light of the onslaught of verifiable atrocities in the news we have witnessed during the pandemic (which is merely a lens in a sense for understanding a much longer history of female suffering at the hands of male aggression) we must ask ourselves what the psychological, social and hegemonic motivations are for fostering and conditioning male ignorance, and we must truly seek to understand these factors of ignorance and complicity, in all their gory detail, rather than simply glancing upon them in our discourses to naturalise them.
Rianne Houghton: Coronavirus and domestic violence: Are we experiencing a ‘shadow pandemic’?
As the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) swept across the world earlier this year, it brought with it a wave of excess death, illness, and unimaginable change to the daily lives of many. With the virus came restrictions on movement and government-mandated stay-at-home orders. Those who were able to – or indeed had no choice but to – did exactly that, even when staying at home meant putting themselves at risk to something other than COVID-19. For victim-survivors of domestic violence and abuse, the invisible threat to life of an unpredictable virus was matched by something that is often equally invisible: the violence and abuse at the hands of an intimate partner.
Stay at home, stay safe
Beyond the context of a global pandemic, the perceived sanctuary and safety of a home is a privilege. “Home is not always a safe place to live”, Bradbury-Jones and Isham remind us (2020: 2047). Home for those experiencing violence and abuse is usually the key site in which violent and abusive behaviour unfolds, and where “scrutiny from anyone outside” the home can be evaded. The message from nations to its citizens to ‘stay at home’ has implications for victim-survivors, not least because “stringent restrictions on movement shut off avenues of escape, help-seeking and ways of coping” (ibid.). As well as implicating those needing to flee violent or abusive situations, national and local lockdowns – as well as restrictions on work, travel, and even social lives – “play into the hands of people who abuse through tactics of control, surveillance and coercion” (ibid.). Therefore, lockdown measures imposed by governments, and the framing of ‘stay at home’ as some kind of moral and civic duty, have the potential to unintentionally “grant people who abuse greater freedom to act without scrutiny or consequence” (ibid.).
The changes and sacrifices people have made throughout the COVID-19 pandemic have no doubt contributed to the disruption of daily routines and relationships (Piquero et al., 2020: 604). The issue of confinement, central to the strategy of restricting the spread of the virus, is something the executive director of UN Women Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka has also directly linked to the increased prevalence of “tension and strain” felt by individuals and families, along with worries over security, health, and money. These factors all work together to create a perfect storm of instability and precarity – states that some suggest lead to an increase in the likelihood of family violence such as partner abuse and child maltreatment (ibid., 602-605). This is echoed by Leslie and Wilson (2020), who state that “changes in economic opportunities and uncertainty, increased parental time at home during employment, and emotional cues have all been found to impact the prevalence of domestic violence (1). Staying at home for victim-survivors of domestic violence and abuse is not a prerequisite for safety, even in a health crisis – so, rather than offering protection, the message to ‘stay at home’ and ‘save lives’ has created a “paradox” for millions of women (Bradbury-Jones and Isham, 2020: 2048).
Finding precedence
The possible effects of the COVID-19 crisis on incidences of domestic violence and abuse are not necessarily as novel as the virus itself; indeed, the relationship between large-scale disasters or crises and family abuse has been noted in a number of contexts from around the world. Bradbury-Jones and Isham (2020) cite experience in New Zealand (2047), while Chandan et al. (2020) agree that the increased risk of domestic violence and abuse “is not surprising”. They refer to previous epidemics such as the Ebola outbreak in West Africa, as well as “cholera and Zika virus disease outbreaks”, which all led to “regional environments where domestic violence became more prevalent” (1). Kofman and Garfin (2020) also acknowledge a precedent for increased cases of domestic violence and abuse during and after catastrophes, citing the example of Hurricane Katrina, where one study reported a fourfold increase in gender-based violence rates (199). Other forms of gender-based violence are also known to rise in prevalence, including rape, sex trafficking, female genital mutilation or cutting, and early or child marriages, “during and immediately after catastrophic events” (Emezue, 2020: 2). Anurudran et al. (2020) cite a similar example of an increase in domestic violence experienced by women – despite no formal reporting – following a 2009 bushfire in Australia. These examples do not illustrate that destabilised environments, and by extension destabilised livelihoods, are the cause of an uptick in domestic violence and abuse cases, but rather that they are a catalyst, where volatility and violent behaviours can be easily triggered.
What the numbers tell us – and what they don’t
If you were to take both the ‘stay at home’ message characteristic of the COVID-19 crisis and previous, relevant patterns into consideration, it would not be unreasonable to presume that cases of domestic violence and abuse have increased since the pandemic began. Figures from the Office for National Statistics suggest exactly that, with Crime Survey data taken from England and Wales confirming increases in reported crime and help-seeking across the board, following the UK’s first national lockdown on March 23. Key points from the ONS’ report reveal that:
– The police recorded 259,324 offences (excluding fraud) flagged as domestic abuse-related in the period March to June 2020, a 7% increase in the same period in 2019 and an 18% increase in 2018.
– The number of offenses flagged as domestic abuse-related increased each month from April to June 2020, with the largest month-on-month increase – 9% – between April and May.
– In April, May, and June, roughly one fifth of all offenses recorded by the police (21%, 20%, and 19%, respectively) were flagged as domestic abuse-related, an increase of approximately 5% compared with the same period in previous years.
– The police recorded 206,492 violence against the person offences flagged as domestic abuse-related between March and June 2020, a 9% increase compared with the same period in 2019.
– 64 domestic homicides were recorded by the police in England and Wales between January and June 2020, of which 30 occurred in the period between April and June. This represents an increase of just over 14% compared to the same period in 2019.
– The London Metropolitan Police Service (MPS) received a total of 41,158 calls-for-service for domestic incidents between 25 March and 10 June 2020, an increase of 12% on last year.
– Between April and June 2020, Refuge’s Helpline team logged a total of 40,397 calls and contacts on its database, a 65% increase compared with the first three months of 2020. This equates to an average of 444 calls and contacts per day at the height of the pandemic.
– Refuge saw a 700% increase in the number of visits to its Helpline website.
These worrying trends can be found elsewhere, with figures from Leslie and Wilson’s US-based research mirroring those of the ONS. Using “difference-in-differences and event study methods”, Leslie and Wilson compared the frequency of domestic violence calls for service across 14 large US cities before and after social distancing began (2020: 1). They discovered that, relative to trends during the same period in 2019, calls for service increased 7.5% in the months March, April, and May, with the biggest increase (9.7%) coming just five weeks after widespread social distancing began (ibid.). Significantly, Leslie and Wilson also report a large increase in domestic violence calls from city blocks without a recent history of such, indicating that “COVID-19 has led to an extensive margin increase with new households placing calls” (2020: 2). Mahase’s (2020) article in the British Medical Journal tells a similar story, citing a report from the World Health Organisation’s European member states that noted a 60% increase in emergency calls from women subjected to violence by their intimate partners in countries including Belgium, Bulgaria, France, Ireland, the Russian Federation, Spain, and the UK.
Data indicating an increase in domestic violence and abuse incidents can also be found in reports from domestic violence charities and organisations. Figures from services provided by the likes of Women’s Aid and Refuge may even offer a more authentic picture of women’s experiences during the COVID-19 pandemic, as many cases of violence and abuse often go unreported. Women’s Aid in England recorded a 41% rise in demand for their online services (including online chat, video calling, and telephone support) since lockdown was imposed (Williamson, Lombard, Brooks-Hay, 2020: 290), while more than 40,000 calls were made to the National Domestic Abuse helpline during the first three months of nationwide restrictions (Townsend, 2020). Refuge has also been forced to expand the availability of its online services to reflect demand, recently extending the hours of its live chat facility (Keeper, 2020).
Not all available statistics point to an unprecedented rise in domestic violence and abuse, however. In their short-term analysis of COVID-19’s impact on domestic violence in Dallas, Texas, Piquero et al. claim that there is “not enough evidence to suggest an upward trend in domestic violence incidents” following the implementation of stay-at-home orders across the city (2020: 611). Although their examination of local police figures shows an increase in domestic violence in the first two weeks following the order, there immediately follows a drop-off. Based on the projection models used, Piquero et al. assert they do not see “any lasting increase or sustained higher levels of domestic violence” (ibid.: 617).
Leslie and Wilson (2020) highlight the problem in relying entirely on figures offered by police or law enforcement, which are often considered “an imperfect measure of domestic violence incidents” (3). Of course, not all domestic violence incidents are reported – indeed in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, where people are spending much of their time at home together, it is likely to be more difficult for a victim-survivor to access the help and support they need without alerting their partner. Trying to establish a relationship between the actual occurrence of domestic violence and abuse within a set period of time through police data alone is also a one-dimensional approach. The data cannot necessarily tell us the severity of incidents, and the changes between incidence and reporting patterns are difficult to disentangle and establish (Leslie and Wilson, 2020: 2). Similar contradictions have also been found in data from domestic violence hotlines in the US, with the National Domestic Violence Hotline reporting call volume increases, particularly for COVID-19-specific concerns, whereas other services reported substantial drops in regular call volumes (Kofman and Garfin, 2020: 199). This is an “unsettling story”, Kofman and Garfin say, pointing out that many victims may not call for help until “violence has escalated to the point that they necessitate 911 service calls” (ibid.).
Williamson, Lombard, and Brooks-Hay (2020) offer a different reason for not relying entirely on statistics to explain any correlation between COVID-19 stay-at-home orders and increases in reported domestic violence and abuse. In their paper on domestic violence and abuse, coronavirus, and the media narrative, they caution against a dialogue of ‘surges’ or ‘spikes’ in case numbers and instead call for greater contextualisation of the problem. “More men are not starting to be more abusive or violent; rather, the patterns of abuse are becoming more frequent and, in some cases, being reported more regularly” (289), they write. They also resist terminology that directly links the coronavirus to domestic violence homicides (‘coronavirus murders’, for example), arguing that it constructs a narrative that both shifts blame from the perpetrator and insinuates that death as a result of domestic violence and abuse would not otherwise be happening (291). Instead, it is important to note that those experiencing domestic violence do not have an existence that is merely punctuated with events of violence or abuse, but rather they are living through an “underlying, ongoing, fluctuating pattern of abuse” (ibid.). The framing of a domestic violence homicide that has happened amid the COVID-19 pandemic as a ‘COVID-19 murder’ muddies and mystifies the reality of abuse, and as Williamson, Lombard, and Brooks-Hay put it, “masks the reality” that perpetrators are in fact everyday people – they can be your next-door neighbour, your drinking buddy, or even your brother, for example. (292).
Changes in domestic violence and abuse
Where the effects of COVID-19 on incidences of domestic violence and abuse can provide greater value is in the emergence of a different kind of abuse victim-survivors have reported since stay-at-home orders, lockdowns, and restrictions were introduced. In a show of unsettling resourcefulness, newer forms of partner abuse have emerged over recent months that are unique to the current global situation, with men threatening to infect their partner or children with the coronavirus, for example (Emezue, 2020: 2). In turn, stay-at-home directives may also facilitate the interception and surveillance of social media or mobile use by perpetrators, limiting avenues for help-seeking and disclosure (ibid., 5). The organisation Refuge has also warned of perpetrators instilling fear and compliance by exploiting technology such as smart locks, webcams, and social media – as well as revenge porn – throughout the pandemic, after investigating 195 cases of “tech abuse” in the UK’s first lockdown (Townsend, 2020). It is not just the nature of abuse that has altered during the COVID-19 crisis: Women’s Aid has reported changes in the severity of violence and abuse related by service users. In their coronavirus-specific report, A Perfect Storm, they revealed that over 60% of survivors living with their abuser said that the abuse had worsened during the months March to June (Women’s Aid, 2020).
Women’s Aid’s report into the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on domestic abuse survivors and the services supporting them details why, as researchers in the field, we should not only be concerned with quantitative, measurable changes in the phenomenon. Instead, A Perfect Storm offers an insight into victim-survivors’ personal lived experiences, the nuances of which are often missing from crime stats and call logs. By talking with women as part of an in-depth study, Women’s Aid found that 91% of respondents thought that the COVID-19 pandemic had negatively impacted their lives, with 68% saying they felt they had no-one to turn to for help and advice during lockdown. 78% of women experiencing abuse at the height of lockdown in April said that the threat of COVID-19 had made it harder for them to escape abuse; 10% said their abusers had actively used the lockdown restrictions to stop them from leaving; and 20% said they had tried to leave during the pandemic but had been unable to access housing or refuge space. The report found that abusers had often used the pandemic “as a tool for abuse to increase fear and anxiety”, with one survivor recalling that her partner had told her she would die from the virus, while another spat in his partner’s face. “Things are escalating and I’m sure it’s going to continue getting worse,” one woman is quoted as saying in the report. Another spoke of feelings of helplessness and vulnerability, saying: “I’m lonely, feel isolated, like a sitting duck.”
Seeking refuge, and lessons for the future
Evidence of the consequences of the COVID-19 crisis on domestic violence and abuse services is also emerging as the outbreak and its associated instability continues. In the US, already under-resourced shelters are either nearing or at capacity as a result of social distancing measures (Kofman and Garfin, 2020: 200), while others have had to resort to alternative sheltering options such as Hotel Assistance Programs, where safe spaces are crafted out of vacant hotel rooms and dormitories (Emezue, 2020: 5). A similar scenario is developing in the UK, with refuges and safe houses finding themselves unable to take on new residents due to concerns about both coronavirus contamination and staffing issues (Williamson, Lombard, Brooks-Hay, 2020: 290). Practical substitutions that are offered, such as temporary housing in hotels, presents further obstacles for victim-survivors, who may be forced to move into spaces without their belongings or the necessary means to exist like kitchens to cook food, washing machines, and separate rooms. Left with increasingly limited options, women seeking emergency help from domestic violence services may find themselves feeling further isolated in what is already a difficult and dangerous time.
There is no doubt that the coronavirus pandemic will have unique and lasting consequences on both victim-survivors of domestic violence and abuse and the services in place to protect them. While short-term analysis and up-to-date statistics from crime surveys offer an insight into how much domestic violence and abuse is changing, they cannot always tell us how it is changing. The full and wide-reaching impact of the pandemic is not likely to provide us with lessons until it is over, as for many, “it will be the time when they can leave the house, recharge and get support that they will find the strength to report and leave an abusive situation (Williamson, Lombard, Brooks-Hay, 2020: 292). The importance of viewing domestic violence through the lens of COVID-19 is not to be ignored, however – because, as ever, there is understanding and hope still to be found in the women living through the experience and the stories they can share with us.
Anurudran, A., et al., (2020). Domestic violence amid COVID-19. International Journal of Gynecology and Obstetrics, 255.
Bradbury-Jones, C., Isham, L., (2020). The pandemic paradox: The consequences of COVID-19 on domestic violence. Journal of Clinical Nursing, 29, 2047-2049.
Chandan, J., et al., (2020). COVID-19: a public health approach to manage domestic violence is needed. The Lancet Public Health, 5, 309.
Emezue, C., (2020). Digital or Digitally Delivered Responses to Domestic and Intimate Partner Violence During COVID-19. JMIR Public Health and Surveillance, 6 (3), 1-9.
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