Review: HER SAY: Survivors of Domestic Abuse Tell Their Own Stories

This is a vitally important book. As Michele A’Court says in the foreword, the thing about domestic abuse, whether it be sexual, physical, economic, psychological or emotional, is its silence.

“People living it, and perpetrating it, often go to great lengths to keep it invisible and silent. Children are told to keep it secret. Neighbours turn a blind eye. Friends and family don’t ask. Women learn not to speak.”

But the women in HER SAY have spoken; that is why this book is so significant. These 16 brave women have found their voices and we need to hear them. Their stories are deeply moving and often deeply disturbing but they are told with such honesty and directness that they are utterly engaging.

What becomes clear is that domestic violence knows no boundaries. It occurs in all classes, ethnicities and age groups. That is why it is important that Jackie Clark (Aunty-in-charge) tells her own story. From a privileged background, she suffered no physical violence but spent 28 years being belittled and psychologically controlled.

Other women tell stories of horrendous physical and sexual abuse, with drugs, gangs, prison, multiple children and teenage pregnancies being common. Men hide cell phone chargers, so the women can’t contact anyone. They shut women and children in the bedroom, then remove the door handle.

I was struck by the love and care these women have for their children. Many of them would not dare tell the full truth to the police or other authorities for fear of losing their beloved children.

The story that has stayed most vividly in my mind is Jane’s. One of 11 children, she was made a state ward by the time she was 12, was in and out of various girls’ homes, and pregnant by the age of 15. She and her partner didn’t realise that their difficult first child was deaf – as was one of the twins who came along next. “He started getting possessive. Every time I went somewhere, he would time me and he beat me up if I made friends.”

I had to get out of my comfortable chair and pace around the room when Jane spoke of being raped two days after giving birth and then being too ashamed to tell the hospital what had happened when she had to return to have her stitches repaired. This same man later sexually abused their deaf daughter from the ages of eight to twelve. Jane says of her as an adult, “My beautiful daughter, she found her own strength.” And Jane found her strength too. Not only has she written her truth in this book, she has also found the courage to speak in public.

I am full of admiration and respect for Jane and for all of the extraordinary women in this book. Sarah talks about finding herself in a violent relationship at the age of 17 and assuming it was normal. “When everyone you have ever loved has abused you in some way, you think this is what love is.” She also speaks one of the most memorable lines in the whole book – “It’s exactly like that frog in the pot that warms up. You don’t know its boiling you alive until it’s too late.”

There is little political or social analysis in this book. But the stories themselves are highly political just by being spoken. New Zealand’s domestic abuse statistics are appalling and shameful – higher than the international average, according to the WHO. With the enquiry into historical state and church abuse going on right now, this book could not be more timely. These are not statistics and generalisations – this is male violence, recorded in often brutal detail, against real women. Now that we can learn their names and hear their stories, we can stand in solidarity with them and call for action.

Reviewed by Carole Beu