Abstract
This qualitative study illuminates the experience of mothers exposed to the intimate partner violence (IPV) of their daughters. In-depth interviews with 11 exposed mothers were conducted. The findings reveal four semi-chronological phases in the participants’ experiences: pre-disclosure of the daughter’s abuse, the first definitive encounter with the daughter’s abuse, living with continued exposure to the daughter’s IPV, and the aftermath of the daughter’s IPV. A recurrent theme in the mothers’ experiences was their dual positioning as a forgotten victim of IPV and as a caregiver of their daughter shaped by prevalent motherhood ideologies. Possible implications for intervention are discussed.
Introduction
The research about mothering has largely ignored mothers’ subjective accounts of their experiences (Bassin, Honey, & Kaplan, 1994) and overlooked the mothering of adult children (Fingerman, 2001). Specifically, the experience of mothers exposed to the intimate partner violence (IPV) of their adult daughter is missing from the domestic violence (DV) literature. Mothers are acknowledged as being an integral part of the support system of women in general and abused women in particular (Fanslow & Robinson, 2010). Yet, mothers’ experience of exposure to their daughters’ IPV is virtually ignored by both professionals and researchers. The dearth of attention to the experience of exposed mothers reverberates the marginalization of mothering experiences in other research areas. This study aimed to start filling this lacuna by learning about the experience of Jewish Israeli mothers exposed to their daughters’ IPV.
The DV literature mentions mothers of abused women only in regard to their contribution to their daughters’ IPV or as part of their adult daughters’ support system. The mothers’ own experiences as victims of IPV were found to be a risk factor for their daughters becoming victims of IPV (Dankoski et al., 2006). Furthermore, abused women in Buchbinder’s (2004) study suggested that the coldness and emotional distance of their mother pushed them into a problematic marriage, in a wish to achieve emotional reparation of their unhappy childhood. Other studies have indicated the role of these mothers as part of their abused daughters’ social network. Most of these studies focused on the victims’ perceptions of their social network as either facilitating (Fanslow & Robinson, 2010) or hindering their help-seeking efforts (Moe, 2007). Research conducted from the perspective of network members have concentrated on understanding the factors that improve their ability to effectively support the victim, mostly ignoring their own challenging experiences (Hoff, 1990; Latta & Goodman, 2011).
The omission of any discussion of the experiences of mothers of abused women is especially troubling in light of data suggesting that family members of abused women, including their mothers, serve as a target of the abuser’s physical and verbal violence (Goodkind, Gillum, Bybee, & Sullivan, 2003). Moreover, research on the effects of exposure to various forms of abuse indicates that exposed individuals may display severe symptoms (Hill, 2001; Kitzmann, Gaylord, Holt, & Kenny, 2003; Plummer, 2006; Wolfe, Crooks, Lee, McIntyre-Smith, & Jaffe, 2003). These findings are particularly alarming in regard to exposed mothers, considering the relationship between mothers and their adult daughters.
Mothers and Their Adult Daughters
The relationship between mothers and their adult daughters was found to be the most significant and to be characterized by the greatest closeness of all intergenerational familial bonds (Rossi & Rossi, 1990; Suitor & Pillemer, 2000). At the center of this relationship are a shared gender experience and a gendered balancing act, for both mother and adult daughter, between the desire for intimacy and the need for autonomy (Chodorow, 1995; Suitor, Pillemer, & Sechrist, 2006).
Recent studies on the parenting of adult children exposed the lifetime developmental transformations of this relationship and its impact on the well-being of both parent and child (Fingerman, Pitzer, Lefkowitz, Birditt, & Mroczek, 2008; Rossi & Rossi, 1990). Specifically, parents’—and especially the mothers’—well-being was found to decrease in response to negative experiences of their adult child (Greenfield & Marks, 2006), particularly if the child’s problems are seen as resulting from the child’s own behaviors or choices (Pillemer & Suitor, 1991), and even when the other children in the family incur success in various life domains (Fingerman, Cheng, Birditt, & Zarit, 2012). This decrease in parents’ well-being may be explained by heightening distress feelings (Bullock, 2006; Knoester, 2003), growing psychological and instrumental care demands (Greenfield & Marks, 2006), a sense of failure which undermines the parental identity (Braverman, 1989; Ryff, Schmutte, & Lee, 1996), and the hindering of mutuality and autonomy in the child’s relationship with the parents (Birditt, Fingerman, & Zarit, 2010; Milkie, Bierman, & Schieman, 2008). These findings suggest that a mother who is exposed to her daughter’s IPV is likely to experience a decrease in well-being, particularly if she attributes the IPV to her daughter’s behaviors and choices.
The Israeli Context
Motherhood is socially constructed and embedded in specific historical and cultural contexts (Chodorow, 1978). Jewish Israeli mothers are exposed to the motherhood myth (Hays, 1996; Thurer, 1994), which emphasizes mothers’ instinctive ability and desire to care, and even to sacrifice, for their children. This is a dominant ideology, influenced by both national history and religion (Hacker, 2005). Motherhood is considered to be a core identity in women’s life, and women’s primary duty is seen as bearing children and shielding them from harm (Fogiel-Bijaoui, 2005). In the same vein, Israel is considered to be a family-oriented society characterized by close contact between adults and their parents (Lavee & Katz, 2003), due to the country’s continuous state of war, the central place of religion, and the geographic density of its population (Lowenstein, 2007). Recent Israeli studies have found that these motherhood discourses play an important part in both women’s own experiences of mothering (e.g., Gueta & Addad, 2013; Hager, 2011; Peled & Gil, 2011; Peled & Parker, 2013; Peled & Sacks, 2008) and in the way service providers perceive their mothering (e.g., Davidson-Arad, Peled & Leichtentritt, 2008; Peled & Dekel, 2010; Peled & Levin-Rotberg, 2013).
Summary of the Literature and Research Questions
A critical examination of the available literature reveals that it usually constructs mothers of abused women as relational objects, making virtually no reference to their subjective experience. The invisibility of the experiences of these women is particularly troubling given our current understanding of the importance of the mother–adult daughter relationship and the impact of DV on exposed family members. Yet, to the best of our knowledge, no research to date has specifically examined the experience of mothers exposed to a daughter’s IPV. The purpose of this descriptive qualitative study was to start filling this gap by learning about these mothers’ experiences. Specifically, we asked the following questions: How do mothers describe their daughters’ abuse and how do they deal with it? How do mothers exposed to a daughter’s IPV perceive their mothering and their relationship with their daughters?
Method
For the purpose of this research, we adopted a qualitative naturalistic-feminist approach. The naturalistic approach emphasizes the holistic understanding of phenomena against the backdrop of the context in which they take place (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). It is particularly suitable for studying experiences that carry “multiple, diverse, divergent, and often shifting meanings” (Arendell, 2000, p. 1196). It acknowledges the impact of the perspectives of the researchers themselves, inasmuch as they use their own subjectivity to understand the research participants, while trying not to compromise their understanding and representation of the participants’ voice during the different stages of analysis and writing (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). This requires researchers to engage throughout the study in reflective monitoring of the ways in which their own views, values, and experiences might intervene (Watt, 2007).
Both the naturalistic and the feminist research approaches seek to develop knowledge together with the research participants, based on a mutual dialogue. Feminist research emphasizes the importance of learning about women’s marginalized experiences. While the naturalistic approach is inductive in essence (Lincoln & Guba, 1985), in this study the feminist viewpoint impacted on the research goals, the theoretical interpretations suggested in the discussion, and the wish to create a body of practical knowledge that will lead to effective social change regarding women’s status (Kelly, Burton, & Regan, 1994). We were especially mindful of issues related to interpretation, translation, and representation of women’s and mothers’ experiences as a group (Harding & Norberg, 2005).
Population and Sample
The research population was composed of Israeli Jewish mothers exposed to a daughter’s IPV, defined as “mothers who know or have solid grounds to assume that their daughter was or is physically abused or threatened for her life by her male partner.” We deemed the focus on physical violence and murder threats fitting to the exploratory nature of a study on a type of exposure to violence that is difficult to define. The inclusion of assumed abuse enabled the participation of mothers who could be experiencing the effects of the denial, minimization, and silencing common to DV.
The recruitment of participants posed a significant obstacle due to current lack of social recognition of the problem of mothers exposed to a daughter’s IPV. Women were recruited—either directly or with the help of their abused daughters—through community centers for DV prevention and intervention, shelters for women abused by their partner, a center for the treatment of drug abuse, and personal connections. Of the 16 mothers who agreed to participate, two canceled the interview due to scheduling difficulties, one withdrew, another did not complete the interview due to emotional difficulties with the research topic, and one declined due to her daughter’s opposition to the study. Thus, eleven interviews were completed. All of the interviewees defined themselves as mothers of daughters who were abused by an intimate partner.
The 11 participants were Jewish, lived across Israel, and all but one, who lived in a rural region, lived in cities or towns. Half were approached directly by a service manager or an acquaintance, and half were first approached through their abused daughters. Their ages ranged from 35-75 (M = 60.6). Four were married, two were separated or divorced, and five were widows. The number of their children ranged from 2-11 (M = 3.9). The age of the abused daughters ranged from 18-41. Seven participants were employed full-time, two worked part-time, and four did not work outside the home. Seven reported that their daughters’ abuse had ceased at the time of the interview, and four reported it was ongoing. Four of the women had been abused themselves by a partner. Six participants reported that their daughters’ spouses had directly threatened them with violence, and two of them had received professional support regarding their experience of violence.
Data Collection
Semi-structured interviews were conducted with the participants in a location of their choice—mostly in their homes, and some at a DV center or at their workplace. The third author, a social worker who specializes in DV intervention, conducted the interviews, which lasted between 1 hr and 3½ hr each. Prior to the interview, the interviewees signed an informed consent form that set out the study’s objectives and procedures, the participant’s rights, and the researchers’ contact information.
The interviews were semi-structured and loosely guided by an interview protocol that includes questions about the respondent’s experience as a mother exposed to a daughter’s IPV, her view of herself as a mother, and her relationship with her daughter. The interviews were characterized by both a warm and welcoming atmosphere and a noticeable tension that eased as the interview progressed. Some of the participants were highly emotional when talking about their mothering experiences. The interviews were recorded and transcribed verbatim in Hebrew.
Data Analysis and Quality Criteria
For conducting the data analysis, we adopted the method suggested by Strauss and Corbin (1998), which consisted of several stages. Each stage of analysis was initially conducted by the third author, and then carefully reviewed by the first and second authors. First, the transcripts were hand coded, by means of open and in vivo coding techniques, to identify themes and concepts. Then, three interviews that contained exceptionally thick descriptions and somewhat represented the different characteristics of the 11 interviewees were individually analyzed (Denzin, 1989). The three individual analyses together with the initial list of approximately 70 themes were then reanalyzed and regrouped to a list of 27 central categories into which all the interview texts were sorted. The content of these central categories was then examined for similarities and differences between ideas and experiences, and organized into analytic and thematic categories by means of a process of selective coding aimed at forming a broader framework of the findings. Throughout the analysis process, the authors sought to maintain a clear framework that would provide the most faithful expression possible of the participants’ mothering experiences as evident in their narratives, while highlighting both their differences and common features. The results were jointly discussed until the researchers deemed them sufficiently rigorous, in accordance with the quality criteria applied.
Throughout the study, and particularly during the stages of analysis and writing, care was taken to maintain the quality standards of naturalistic qualitative research (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). The study’s credibility was enhanced by creating a pleasant atmosphere during the interview that permitted participants to express themselves openly and freely, by ensuring accurate and complete transcription of the interviews, and by subjecting these to systematic analysis while preserving the interviewees’ point of view. We offered all the participants a chance to receive and comment on the findings; all of them expressed their wish to do so. In the end, eight of the interviews provided comments, all stating that the findings represented their individual experience. They also remarked on their considerable emotional difficulty in reading the findings. We collaboratively engaged in critical, reflective discussions regarding our own stance to further ensure the dependability of the findings. The transferability of the findings is supported by a detailed description of the methodology and by thick descriptions of the participants’ points of view within the context of their lives.
Ethical Standards
The study was approved by the institutional review board (IRB) of the Ministry of Welfare and met accepted ethical benchmarks for qualitative research studies (Peled & Leichtentritt, 2002). The interviews revolved around an extremely sensitive topic that was liable to produce some uneasiness for both the participants and the interviewer. Therefore, the importance of voluntary consent was emphasized before and during the interviews, and an effort was made to foster a comfortable and open atmosphere to enhance the participants’ sense of control over the information they were sharing. Participants were assured that confidentiality would be fully maintained, that they could stop the interview at any point they chose, and we gave them the option to contact the interviewer with any concerns or further thoughts about the interview topics, as well as a chance to receive a copy of the findings and comment on them. They were guaranteed professional support following the interviews, if needed.
Findings
The analysis depicted four semi-chronological phases in the participants’ experiences of being mothers exposed to a daughter’s IPV: pre-disclosure of the daughter’s abuse, the first definitive encounter with the daughter’s abuse, living with continued exposure to the daughter’s IPV, and the aftermath of the daughter’s IPV. All of the participants experienced the first three phases, and seven described the situation at the time of the interview as the aftermath of the abuse.
Phase 1: Pre-Disclosure of the Daughter’s Abuse
Most of the participating women described times when they suspected their daughters were being abused but were uncertain whether this was true. Others knew about violent outbursts directed at the daughter by her partner, but these had been denied or silenced by the daughter, the mother, or both. The fluctuation between knowing and not knowing about the abuse in the daughter’s life was accompanied by confusion, ambivalence, and discomfort.
Neta (all the names used here are fictitious), a 44-year-old divorcee, who referred to her relationship with her daughter as a good one, described her daughter’s initial denial of the abuse and the difficulty of distinguishing violent acts from accidental injuries: She denied it, but I had no, I had no proof because she always said everything was fine. . . . And why I suspected a little but not really, because all these things [the signs of abuse] were real, because many times she really broke her tooth on an apple or a cap . . . and if you only touch her, it leaves a mark. But slowly there were too many signs in a very short time, and I began to suspect that something was wrong here.
Rica, a 74-year-old widow, shared her opinion that couple violence is a private, intimate matter between a husband and wife that does not call for outside intervention. Other women referred to the distance created in their relationship with their daughters following their choice of partners as interfering with their ability to recognize that she was abused. Ayala said, “There was a total severing of contact with her because she didn’t call and I didn’t see a need to; I was very angry with her.”
Most of the mothers reported that at this phase, they experienced emotional distress and helplessness due to their inability to respond effectively to their daughters’ needs. For example, Yona, who was herself abused by her deceased husband, said, “[I felt] simply helpless, because for a very long time she did not share. It’s just been my feelings, and emotions are not always objective.”
Phase 2: The First Definitive Encounter With the Daughter’s Abuse
All the mothers were confronted by their daughters’ abuse by hearing about it, either from their daughter or from other people. For example, Hadas, a 75-year-old widow, received an alarming call from her daughter: She called me and. . . said, but in a hush-hush uh, uh, uh . . . like, uh, uh, she called and . . . tells me, he is here with his friends . . . and come take the child. The child was a baby. And what did he tell her? If you go to your mother I will throw the child out of the window. That’s what he did. He took the baby and wanted to throw him out of the window and she got scared.
Rica was confronted by the severity of her daughter’s abuse while waiting for her to join the family for a holiday dinner. When she called her to see why she was late, a friend answered the phone and told the family that her daughter had been stabbed in her car by her husband when picking up the children from his house to take them to the family dinner. Mothers’ age and health condition seemed to have postponed their confrontation with their daughters’ condition due to the latters’ protectiveness over their mothers. For example, 74-year-old Rebecca learned about her daughter’s abuse only after pushing her daughter to explain why she has kept a distance from her for so long. Her daughter confessed that she did not want the information about her experience of IPV to aggrevate Rebecca’s heart condition.
The women stated that facing the abuse as an undeniable aspect of their daughters’ lives changed their own lives. For several of them, it was experienced as a turning point, or an epiphany (Denzin, 1989), which had divided their lives into the time before and the time after they confronted the abuse. The knowledge of the abuse seemed to have threatened an image they held of their family and of themselves as normal or normative. Neta described the transformation she went through this way: “Until the accident I used to be an ordinary mom.” Hadas stated poignantly, It’s really a disaster that happened in our family. We know that we lost our daughter as if she left us. You can really say it that way. This is not the daughter we have dreamed to have. We wanted her to be happy, to have a normal husband.
Despite previous suspicions, the mothers described facing the abuse, and particularly the risk to a daughter’s life, as overwhelming. Yona said, It did not surprise me . . . because I knew it can happen in any house . . . but I did not expect him to threaten her with a murder. I expected everything, like raising a hand to her, more annoying phones calls, or repeating annoying things, but I didn’t think it will come to threatening with murder.
The women’s immediate emotional response to the realization that their daughters were severely abused involved feelings such as stress, terror, and helplessness. Hadas said, “I was in pain, because I knew she was suffering.” Rica described driving to the hospital after learning that her daughter was stabbed: “I don’t know how we got there . . . I . . . The . . . road didn’t end.” These initial reactions to the abuse further developed as life in the shadow of the daughter’s abuse continued. However, two of the mothers, Daphna and Neta, reported feeling also a measure of hope that once the abuse was revealed and confronted, their daughter might act to stop it.
Phase 3: Living With the Daughter’s Exposure to IPV
All of the participants described a long-lasting experience of living with the exposure to a daughter’s IPV. Some of the mothers were exposed to incidents of their daughter’s abuse by her partner that occurred in their presence; some were directly victimized, physically and verbally by their daughters’ partners. Three central dimensions of the mothers’ experience in this phase were positioning vis-à-vis the abused daughter, the emotional burden of long-lasting exposure, and negotiating maternal identity.
Positioning vis-à-vis the abused daughter
The mothers felt challenged to respond to their daughters’ abuse. Their reported responses vacillated between active support to passive witnessing and disengagement. The nature of the response varied among women and for the same woman over time, in correspondence with the nature of the abuse, the mother’s experience, and the mother–daughter relationship. However, the analysis clearly indicated that most of the mothers described ongoing efforts to protect and support their abused daughters, attempting to stop the abuse and to help them cope with its consequences.
Mothers’ active protection and support of their abused daughters took many forms, such as confronting the abusive partner physically or verbally, encouraging the daughter or the abuser to get professional help, or displaying empathy toward the daughter.
Ayala, for example, confronted her daughter’s partner: “I had to go there and threaten him and [I] almost went to prison for it. She ran away from him and I just, like, I was close to killing him.” Some of the mothers who directly confronted the abuser became a target of his violence. Hadas reported, “That same day, he put a knife here [pointing to her throat] when I intervened.” Other mothers, like 60-year-old Simcha, who was herself a victim of IPV, encouraged their daughters to obtain official assistance: “So I said, let’s go to the police, file a complaint. [She] said, ‘no, I’m afraid of the police, why the police? Don’t want the police.’ So I took her to a social worker.”
Some mothers supported their daughters by offering instrumental help with grandchildren, divorce procedures, and financial support. Other mothers described how they provided their daughters with emotional support by naming and acknowledging the severity of the abuse. For example, Daphna, whose daughter experienced two abusive relationships, gave her daughter a checklist to help her define her experience as a form of emotional abuse: She read and she checked 9-10 out of the 14-15 points. She said: economic violence, verbal abuse, emotional abuse . . . ah . . . oppression, an attempt to distance her from the family, all kinds of things. And she herself realized her condition. She didn’t know.
A minority of the participants described their response to their daughters’ abuse as what can be termed passive witnessing. These women apparently assumed they were unable to provide effective protection and support for their daughters, or that there was no need for a special response to such family dynamics. Bina, a mother of 11 children who had been abused by her husband, remained distant and emotionally uninvolved in the face of her daughter’s abuse: Oh, me? What do I care? I am too weak to fight or go [there]. I have no power to deal with that. I myself have suffered and I didn’t go, not to my mother or to my father, when I was suffering. So my kids turned out to be like their mother, that’s how it is.
Finally, Ayala, who supported her daughter through much of her marriage, reported on an incident in which she actively disengaged herself from her abused daughter immediately after an abusive incident: [My daughter] asked me: “Take me to your home, are you willing to?” I told her: “Absolutely not. You are not coming. That’s enough . . . You’ve decided, you acted, and you did not share your decisions with me. Now you want to return home with your child? From now on, you can do whatever you want; I don’t care.”
The emotional burden of long-lasting exposure
The mothers’ experience of living with their daughters’ ongoing abuse was colored by feelings of worry, fear, helplessness, and burden as a result of intense caregiving, loneliness, and invisibility.
The women feared for their daughters, for other involved family members such as siblings and grandchildren, and for themselves. Daphna was afraid for her daughter’s life; she said, “I know how easily men can murder their wives.” Neta was concerned that her son might be hurt by her daughter’s partner and his family: “I used to escort my son to the [bus] station. These fears, God forbid, that they would hurt him.” Hadas feared for her own life: “I was really scared, scared even to be outside the house. I always turned around to see if he might be after me . . . we had some peace only when he went to jail.”
The ongoing abuse, together with a growing understanding that they could not do much to stop it without their daughters’ active cooperation, intensified the mothers’ feelings of helplessness. Neta said, “The general title for this study is helplessness; helplessness. You are alone, alone and helpless.” Several of the women reported they had understood at some point that only the daughter could extricate herself from the abuse, as Daphne attested, “You are in a dreadful pain. You suffer a lot, the pain goes with you and you tell yourself that until she’s ready to do it, I can’t do it instead of her.” The sense of helplessness was even stronger for the four mothers who were themselves victims of IPV and identified strongly with their daughters’ pain, to the point of enmeshing the two experiences, as evident in Simcha’s chilling description: You feel helplessness, just crying. Only a mother can only cry. She knows her daughter is going to be buried, my daughter goes, I dig her grave and I bury her. But there’s nothing to do, nothing to do, except cry. It feels like shit, it’s a horrible feeling, this feeling that you see your enemy taking the knife, and soon he is stabbing you and you can do nothing. Yes, behind you, yes, here, here he comes, he is coming soon, two more steps and here he is; he stabs you. You can’t do anything. What can you do? Just cry, plea for mercy.
The women also felt burdened by the intense caregiving demands that their daughters’ situations presented. Several described how the caregiving work took all of their time and energy, leaving little for self-care, up to the point of feeling a loss of self. Neta said, I too, as a mother and as a human being, am trying to do everything. Where am I myself? Where am I myself? I have to be connected with my son—I have to be attentive to him, I have to be attentive at work, listening to everyone. And where am I? What am I? Who looks after me in sleepless nights, with the fears? [Crying]
Many of the mothers, including married ones, felt alone in their experience of their daughters’ abuse and some described the experience as transparent, that is, not acknowledged or validated by anyone around them. As Simcha’s words demonstrate: “There’s no definition for it, it’s hard to define . . . I can identify with anyone, but I can’t believe anyone will identify with me and my situation; I feel very bad.”
Negotiating maternal identity
The experience of having an abused daughter seems to have affected the participants’ maternal identity. It brought up questions regarding the quality of their maternal functioning. In most cases, the women referred to themselves as good mothers who did all they could to help their daughters under difficult and uncontrollable circumstances. Neta said, I used to say maybe I was wrong, what did I do wrong? . . . But as a mother I feel I did the best I could under the circumstances. Life sometimes leads us on paths we do not foresee.
Some of the mothers blamed themselves for their daughters’ abuse and suffering. Debbie, who was abused by her first husband, said, “I wasn’t there for her; I gave birth to her at 17 . . . and left her to my parents. I made her a victim and her husband continued.” Yona reflected on her unsuccessful efforts to help her daughter: Maybe deep down I see my own failure as responsible for what happened to [my daughter], because we saw that [the relationship] was prone to problems, and we started, we made a scene, maybe too much of a scene, and it pushed her more into the relationship, to spite us . . . Today, in hindsight, what can I do? . . . I walk around bearing this cross.
Yona and other women described how the ongoing experience of their daughters’ abuse undermined their self-perception as mothers, voicing feelings of failure and incompetence with which they also continued to cope after the abuse.
Phase 4: The Aftermath of the Daughter’s IPV
Seven of the 11 participants shared their experiences following the cessation of the abuse toward their daughters, mostly due to the daughter’s separation from her partner. Feelings of relief and cautious optimism notwithstanding, many of the women continued to experience an abuse-related emotional and caregiving burden.
Relief and cautious optimism
Several women experienced relief and cautious optimism regarding the daughter’s future, following her disengagement from the abusive partner and, in some cases, a new relationship with a nonabusive partner. Furthermore, they saw these developments as having the potential to improve their relationship with their daughters. Yona was hoping that her daughter would find a new, nonabusive partner: If she finds a good partner, and even though I expect problems with that with [her ex], if she finds a partner that is good for her and all of a sudden she discovers life can be different, not like the life she lived or experienced, then I am sure it will be good for me and easier for me.
Israela, a 70-year-old mother of three, described a positive change in her relationship with her remarried daughter: “I am more in touch with her now . . . because she is feeling good.” Yet, the abuse was still present in their lives: “To this day, I ask her, how is it for you? You see, I have this kind of fear; how does he treat you? Is he nice to you? Does he love you?”
Continued burden of care
Relief was not the only response that the women displayed following the dramatic reduction in risk and violence in their daughters’ lives. For some of them, the threat and fear of violence continued, as was well demonstrated in Rebecca’s words: “I am afraid that when he gets out [of prison], I don’t know how, but he will take a revenge on her.” Several women—aware of the impact of IPV on exposed children—worried about their grandchildren. Yona, whose grandchildren were exposed to the abuse of their mother for 13 years, voiced such concerns: “I worry that they were harmed. I’m full of anxiety; nowadays I have much more anxiety than before. It is ruining my life; it is simply ruining my life, even my personal life.”
Some of the women experienced triggers connected to their memories of the abuse of their daughter by her partner. Rica described the impact of media coverage of violent incidents on her: “Whenever I hear these things, I re-experience the scene with my daughter.” Ayala, who was trying to avoid such triggers, referred to the reasons behind her change of a workplace: It was hard for me because there are things I see at work that concern intimate relationships, you cannot ignore it, you have to compare . . . I said, it’s not for me anymore, I cannot take it. It aggravates me, it disturbs my soul and I am sick of it.
In many cases, the continued emotional burden was accompanied by providing ongoing instrumental and financial help to the daughters. Yona, for example, decided to financially support her daughter despite her own financial strain, in an effort to minimize negative consequences of the abuse for her exposed grandchildren: “I give [money] because I want to at least save the kids from economic distress. At least I can spare them this. . . . If I had another solution I would gladly accept it.” Most of the women who experienced the aftermath of the abuse described their maternal commitment as obligating them to disregard their own needs and desires and only hesitantly admitted the burden they felt in their prolonged caregiver role. Yona added, “It’s not a burden to me . . . I mean, it is a burden, but I don’t complain about it. [But] I want some for myself as well.” At this phase of their exposure to their daughters’ IPV, as in the previous ones, the women struggled to balance their own needs with those of their daughters and other family members, often not succeeding. The balancing acts were especially challenging for the older women who experienced a growing need for support due to a deterioration in their health and expected some of these needs to be fulfilled by their children. This was demonstrated in the words of 75-year-old Hadas: I am not a happy mother, not at all . . . Some mothers never did what I did and their children help them. They come to visit and they care about their mom. And me, I do more than anyone else and no one helps me. On the contrary, I need to help, and it’s hard—very hard.
Discussion
Previous studies noted the role played by mothers as part of the support system of victims of IPV (Dankoski et al., 2006; Moe, 2007) but ignored the exposure of mothers to a daughter’s IPV. However, the experiences of exposed mothers (as those of other exposed family members) are an important aspect of a comprehensive understanding of the phenomenon of DV (Riger, Raja, & Camacho, 2002). The aim of this study was to shed light on mothers’ exposure to their daughters’ abuse by an intimate partner. The participants’ descriptions of their exposure experiences indicated four phases in which they managed multiple positions as secondary victims of their respective daughters’ abusers and as caregivers to their abused daughters and other affected family members.
The Mothers as Secondary Victims
Mothers who are exposed to a daughter’s IPV, as depicted in this study, are “hidden” or “forgotten” victims of DV; thus, they warrant attention and support in their own right. For some, this exposure was combined with a history of being abused by their own partner. A few of the mothers also described instances of violence directed at them by their daughter’s abusive partner (see also Goodkind et al., 2003; Riger et al., 2002). The findings outline two major dimensions of their experience as secondary victims—the psychological and sometimes physical impact of the abuse on them, and a sense of isolation.
The exposure to a daughter’s IPV seemed to have had a wide-ranging and lasting effect on the mothers’ sense of self and well-being. The reported responses of shock, confusion, terror, denial, self-blame, and helplessness are similar to those experienced by victims of trauma, in general, and by women who are abused by their partners, in particular (Jones, Hughes, & Unterstaller, 2001). Furthermore, some of described symptoms, such as flashbacks and avoidance reactions, are consistent with findings on secondary traumatization of family members of sexual abuse victims and of children exposed to IPV (Figley & Kleber, 1995; Hill, 2001; Plummer, 2006; Wolfe et al., 2003). As noted by Remer and Ferguson (1995), “victimization has a ripple effect, spreading the damage in waves out from victims to all those with whom they have intimate contact” (p. 407).
The social invisibility of the mothers’ experiences of exposure to a daughter’s IPV was accompanied by feelings of isolation and resulting distress. To date, both the public and the professional community have overlooked the powerful and difficult experiences of participants in this study and women like them. Mary Gergen (2004) noted that in the absence of a cultural narrative to draw upon to impose meaning on their life experience, the well-being of individuals suffers and they lack crucial components of resilience with which to face adversity, as “when narratives are missing, so are potentials for living” (p. 280). Accordingly, in the absence of a public narrative and terminology to describe and validate their experience and a formal support system targeted at their particular plight, these mothers are left to struggle alone with the consequences of their exposure to their daughters’ plight.
The Mothers as Caregivers
An additional dimension of the mothers’ experience was that of caregivers to their abused daughters. Like other (Jewish Israeli) mothers, the participants in this study measured themselves against the “motherhood myth,” which charges mothers with the primary responsibility for the physical and psychological well-being of their children (Fogiel-Bijaoui, 2005; Hacker, 2005; Hays, 1996; Palgi-Hecker, 2005). Indeed, most of the interviewed mothers referred to their support of their daughters as a given and as a natural response in the face of the abuse. Even the mother whose behavior as a passive witness to her daughter’s IPV seemed to contradict the motherhood ideology explained and justified this response, thus reinforcing the centrality of this ideology. The mothers’ responses seem to differ from the struggle of other network members to define their roles with respect to the abuse of a friend or a family member (Latta & Goodman, 2011). This difference may reflect the powerful impact of socio-cultural expectations of mothers as caregivers and protectors of their children, even at the expense of their own well-being (Bassin et al., 1994; Fogiel-Bijaoui, 2005). Such a response may also be explained by what McGuffey (2005) called “gender re-affirming” behavior of parents of abused children, who excessively adhere to traditional gender roles in an effort to restore the “known” order in the face of the chaos caused by child abuse.
Unlike previous dichotomous conceptualizations of network members as supportive or unsupportive (Fanslow & Robinson, 2010; Moe, 2007), the findings of this study portray the mothers’ caregiving role as complex and dynamic (Latta & Goodman, 2011), involving negotiation of their maternal identity. While the participants took their obligation to support their daughters for granted, they debated the extent to which they could function as caregivers to their adult daughters and the appropriate ways to do so. The answers to these questions seemed to be influenced by the mothers’ cultural contexts and attitudes, the mother–daughter relationship, and the mother’s own life experiences. For example, mothers’ attitudes toward supporting their daughters appeared to be influenced by social norms related to motherhood and also those norms that construct couple violence as a private intimate matter between a husband and wife (Fernandez, 1997; Hoff, 1990). The issue of mother–daughter individuation (Goodkind et al., 2003) was raised in relation to a daughter’s decision to return to her abusive partner in opposition to her mother’s wish. In reaction to this choice, the mother disengaged herself from her abused daughter. Finally, the findings suggest that a mother’s own experience as a victim of DV may affect her involvement in her daughter’s life, either by avoiding or by taking action to stop the abuse.
The mothers in this study were challenged to support their abused daughters while maintaining privacy or secrecy in a society that idealizes mothers as omnipotent, ever present, and protective of their children (Fogiel-Bijaoui, 2005; Lavee & Katz, 2003). Their efforts to succeed in this enormous task, together with ongoing reflection on the quality of their mothering and, at times, their sense of having failed to meet the social and personal expectations of a “good mother,” seemed to distress them, scar their maternal identity, lower their self-esteem, and, in general, intensify their burden of care (Braverman, 1989; Ryff et al., 1996). These “unhappy” mothering stories are subversive in challenging the motherhood myth regarding the satisfying and fulfilling aspects of maternal caregiving (Hays, 1996), thus contributing to a growing body of literature that reconstructs motherhood as a social concept by incorporating it into the experiences of marginalized mothers (Gavriel-Fried, Peled & Ajzenstadt, 2015; Gueta, 2013; Hager, 2011; Maushart, 1997; Peled & Parker 2013).
The discrepancy between the intensity of the mothers’ caregiving efforts and common expectations regarding the mothering of an adult daughter may have further increased their sense of burden. Understandably, the research participants seemed to expect that the work of mothering and the dependency of their daughter would lessen as she matured. They wished for mutual care and even, as they got older, for their daughters to take care of them (Suitor et al., 2006). Yet, their burden of care continued and even intensified. A recent study by Levitzki (2009) on a general sample of Israeli parents found a related dialectical tension in parents’ perception of their role as parents to grown children. The parents were oscillating between their tendencies to view their grown children as extensions of themselves to perceiving the child as an independent entity, as well as between supporting the children and the parents’ wish that their grown children will reach independence. This tension was explained partly due the Israeli cultural context that is influenced by both Western individual culture and Middle Eastern collectivist and familial heritage. The burden of care has been increasingly emphasized over the past decades with regard to parents of adults suffering from various emotional, physical, and behavioral disorders (Greenberg, Seltzer, & Greenley, 1993; Maskill, Crowe, Luty, & Joyce, 2010), but such discussion is missing from the DV literature.
Conclusion and Implications
This study both demonstrates and challenges the invisibility of the experiences of mothers whose daughters are abused by an intimate partner. It highlights the dual experience of mothers as both a subject and a social object within a complex individual, family, and social-cultural setting (Palgi-Hecker, 2005). It calls for awareness of the challenges these mothers face and the provision of appropriate formal and informal support to meet their needs. Now that the radiating effects of violence on the wider society and the damage incurred by exposure to IPV have been acknowledged (Riger et al., 2002), we need to make sure not to neglect any of its secondary victims, including but not limited to the immediate family of the direct victim. We call upon researchers, policy makers, social service providers, and activists in the anti-domestic-violence movement to acknowledge mothers’ exposure to a daughter’s IPV as a social problem. Such a move is likely to validate their experiences and bring about a more adequate social response to their predicament.
This pioneering study is limited in scope, set in a particular methodological and social context, and cannot be generalized, but only tentatively transferred to other settings (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Nevertheless, it charts several avenues for future research. First, there is a need for comprehensive documentation of various aspects of the exposure of mothers to a daughter’s IPV, in various social and cultural groups, especially in light of the cultural-religious homogeneity of the current sample. Such studies, qualitative and quantitative, may aim at understanding similarities and differences in mothers’ responses, posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms, burden of care, coping and reliance, and the role of factors such as the duration and the nature of the abuse, personal history of violence, the availability of social and material resources, and the nature of the mother–daughter relationship. Second, the experience of other family and close network members of abused women should be studied. These include fathers, siblings, friends, co-workers, and neighbors who may be affected by the abuse due to their relationship with the abused woman.
An in-depth and wide-ranging understanding of mothers’ exposure to DV is necessary for the development of effective policies and interventions in this domain. Among other efforts, given the recognized importance of social support for abuse victims (Fanslow & Robinson, 2010), service providers should focus attention on the complex and prolonged impact of exposure to DV on mothers of victims and other close network members. Specifically, it is advised to create safe treatment milieus that allow mothers to share their experiences and allow professionals to assess their needs, taking into account the current lack of formal narrative and terminology in this specific domain. Second, and for the same reasons, it is likely that active outreach efforts are required to make such therapeutic milieus accessible to exposed mothers. For example, providing mothers and other family members with educational workshops on the dynamics of DV may both provide them with helpful information and serve as a means for accessing adequate support services. Last, special attention and support may be required for mothers who have been both abused themselves and exposed to their daughters’ abuse.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
