The sordid Ray Rice scandal has opened a much-needed dialogue about domestic violence.
In February Rice and Janay Palmer, then his fiancée and now his wife, had an altercation at an Atlantic City casino that left Palmer unconscious. A tape surfaced of Rice dragging Palmer’s limp body from the elevator, hovering over her. At no point does he appear to attend to her, appear shocked at what he has done to her or appear to have much concern for her at all.
He doesn’t even pull down her skirt.
The next month a grand jury indicted Rice on a charge of third-degree aggravated assault.
The Baltimore Ravens’ coach, John Harbaugh, stood by Rice, saying, “He will be part of our team,” and continuing:
“He’s a person of character. The thing that’s really important is to be able to support the person without condoning the action. He makes a mistake. There’s no justifying what happened. When you drink too much in public, those kind of things happen.”
Whatever one may think of Rice’s character, “those kind of things” don’t just “happen.” That is too casual a dismissal of a very serious issue.
In May Rice was accepted into a pretrial diversion program that allowed him to avoid prosecution. A couple of days later Rice held a news conference with his wife by his side. He apologized to his coaches, his fans and “everyone who was affected by this situation that me and my wife were in.” He did not, however, use that opportunity to publicly apologize to his wife, although he thanked her for loving him “where I was weak and building up where I was strong.” He said that he and his wife had been in therapy and that the therapy had been helpful.
He even attempted to defend himself using the most unfortunate of metaphors: “One thing I can say is that sometimes in life, you will fail. But I won’t call myself a failure. Failure is not getting knocked down; it’s not getting back up.”
His wife said at the news conference: “I do deeply regret the role I played in the incident that night.” It was a line that caused many to cringe. It is hard to feel anything but sadness for her.
The N.F.L. suspended Rice for a measly two games. The nation was outraged, but the league defended its decision. But then another tape was made public showing Rice and Palmer in the elevator, with him punching her in the face and knocking her unconscious. Now the N.F.L. and the Ravens were embarrassed, and their callous lack of concern for the abuse of an intimate partner was laid bare. The Ravens released Rice, and the N.F.L. suspended him indefinitely.
Now, there are many issues here.
How was Rice able to avoid trial on the original charge? Why did it take the second tape for the N.F.L. to act more forcefully in the case? Did anyone at the N.F.L. see the second tape before it was made public? Could anyone have if he’d tried harder to find it? It seems that there were multiple failures here.
But, in a way, those are secondary to the issue of the abuse itself and why people stay in relationships with abusers.
It is a couple’s decision — individually and jointly — whether a union is salvageable and worth the effort to save it. But too often, victims of abuse feel that they have no choice. They can end up staying with an abuser for myriad complex reasons, many of which are regrettable. Often, they just feel trapped. Staying doesn’t excuse the abuse itself, and it can actually embolden the abuser.
We must treat intimate partner violence for what it is: a societal scourge that must be constantly called out and constantly condemned.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “More than one-third of women in the United States (35.6 percent, or approximately 42.4 million) have experienced rape, physical violence and/or stalking by an intimate partner at some point in their lifetime,” and nearly one in three women have experienced physical violence by an intimate partner. To put some of this in percentage terms, 30.3 percent of women in the United States have been “slapped, pushed, or shoved by an intimate partner” in their lifetime.
This is, of course, not just a United States issue. As the United Nations makes clear, “Violence against women is a universal phenomenon.” According to the U.N., “Up to seven in 10 women around the world experience physical and/or sexual violence at some point in their lifetime,” and “603 million women live in countries where domestic violence is not yet considered a crime.”
If there is anything to be optimistic about, it is this: According to a Department of Justice report issued in April, “The rate of domestic violence declined 63 percent, from 13.5 victimizations per 1,000 persons age 12 or older in 1994 to 5.0 per 1,000 in 2012.”
We can push these numbers even lower, but first we need people like Rice, the Ravens and those in the N.F.L. to behave more honorably than they have in this case.
(This column originally appeared in the New York Times Sept. 14, 2014 under the title “Ray Rice and His Rage“)
Charles M. Blow is a New York Times Columnist and nationally-known commentator: “I invite you to visit my blog By The Numbers, join me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter, or e-mail me at email@example.com.”