Abstract
Relatively few victims of gender-based violence (GBV) seek help from nonprofit organizations, healthcare providers, or law enforcement agencies, choosing instead to disclose to friends and family or to nobody at all. This article presents a systematic review of GBV research in sociology showing that, despite low rates of formal service utilization, 68% of published articles use data from organizations including social service providers, hospitals, and police stations and courts. While data from organizations are essential for understanding the experiences of people who report to them, they may not be generalizable to victims broadly. Victims who seek formal help may differ from those who do not in their relative social advantage—along lines of race, socioeconomic status, gender identity, and more—and in their understandings of and responses to violence. We discuss how more non-organizational research might broaden our understanding of violence experienced by society’s most marginalized, elucidate ways to make formal organizational responses more inclusive, and sensitize stakeholders in the anti-GBV movement to interventions outside of the therapeutic and carceral state.
Gender-based violence (GBV) 1 remains common in the United States, with about a third of women and a quarter of men experiencing sexual or domestic violence at some point in their lives (Black et al. 2011; Straus 2011; Tjaden and Thoennes 2000). 2 A large field works to prevent and respond to GBV, understanding it as both symptomatic and productive of gender inequality and recognizing its association with significant long-term consequences like poor psychological and physical health, lower educational and socioeconomic attainment, and less relationship stability (Bevacqua 2000; Campbell et al. 2009; Ferree and Martin 1995). Nonprofit organizations lead violence prevention efforts in schools and universities (Greenberg 2019); policymakers partner with law enforcement agencies to increase the arrest and prosecution of offenders (Gruber 2020); and service providers extend resources like therapy and legal advice to victims 3 (Campbell and Martin 2001).
Rates of formal service utilization, however, remain relatively low, with about two-thirds of victims either disclosing only to friends and family or to nobody at all (Fugate et al. 2005; Messing et al. 2015). Research suggests that those who do utilize services may differ from those who do not in their relative social advantage. Victims marginalized along lines of race, class, and sexual orientation appear less likely to seek services than more socially advantaged victims despite their higher rates of exposure to violence (Morrison et al. 2006; Postmus 2015; Stockman et al. 2015). Despite low levels of help-seeking from law enforcement, nonprofits, and medical professionals, particularly by marginalized victims, scholars note that much research on sexual and domestic violence relies on data collected from or by formal organizations (Haselschwerdt and Hardesty 2017; Johnson 2011). While such data are immensely useful for understanding the experiences of people who do utilize formal services, the experiences of those who do not remain underexplored.
In this article, we present the results of a systematic review of sociological research on GBV to demonstrate the scale of organizational bias, or overrepresentation of data collected from or by formal organizations. Our review finds that 68% of GBV articles in sociology derive their data from organizational sources like courts and law enforcement agencies, nonprofit social service providers, hospitals, workplaces, and colleges and universities. These findings advance GBV research by showing systematically that the experiences of people who do not report are underexplored. We argue that this methodological issue matters because limited research suggests that non-reporters may disproportionately be socially marginalized, and may understand and respond to violence differently than do reporters.
The Anti-Gender–Based Violence Field
Activists have long organized against gender-based violence. Enslaved Black women, for example, were frequently subjected to sexual violence by white slaveholders and overseers, and sometimes by other enslaved people (Davis 2011[1981]; Hooks 2000; West 1999). These women, though deeply constrained, often combatted violence by refusing sexual contact, escaping enslavement, controlling their reproduction, or using sexual contact as an opportunity to improve their and others’ material conditions through bargaining or theft (Omolade 1995). Following emancipation, Black women’s exposure to sexual violence continued, and so too did their resistance to it (Lerner 1992). Many Black women active in the Civil Rights Movement were first mobilized by fights to hold accountable white men who raped Black women, oftentimes with impunity (McGuire 2011). Native communities in what is now the United States, too, have long perceived sexual violence as a harm and worked to care for victims and hold perpetrators accountable. This active work against GBV continued after colonization when White men often used sexual violence against Indigenous women both to humiliate Native men and to deploy reproduction as a tool of genocide (Deer 2015). And today, Black and Native activists organize against their disproportionate exposure to violence and the relative impunity of their abusers, issues they link to biases in the criminal-legal system and federal law’s destruction of tribal law (INCITE 2017).
Most contemporary anti-GBV organizations, however, trace their origins back to the legal activism of the 1960s and 1970s feminist movement. 4 Activists in this iteration of the anti-GBV movement, many of whom were relatively advantaged white women, demanded the expansion of legal understandings of harm; increased prosecution of GBV; and created new social service organizations—with federal and state funding streams to support them—for victims (Bevacqua 2000; Ferree and Martin 1995). In the four or so decades since, consistent funding, primarily from Violence Against Women Act block grants but also from private philanthropy, has produced a large anti-GBV field across the United States. 5 Today, the anti-GBV field is dominated by a carceral state willing to process and incarcerate more perpetrators of GBV and a network of nonprofit organizations able to provide support services (Boba and Lilley 2009; Kim 2020).
Despite the increased availability of services, however, most victims still do not use them. Reporting to law enforcement, as with most forms of violence, is uncommon, with between 25% and 40% of sexual violence victims and about 28% of domestic violence victims filing reports (Downing et al. 2020; Felson et al. 2002; Morgan 2018). Estimates of social service utilization vary widely due to limited data availability. Rates range from 1% of sexual violence victims accessing counseling services at the low end (Fisher et al. 2003) to nearly 50% of domestic violence victims seeking social services at the high end (Coker et al. 2000). Most estimates land somewhere in between (Cochran et al. 2008; Golding et al. 1989; Ullman and Filipas 2001). Despite this variation, consistent across studies is that more victims seek support from their informal social networks—or from nobody at all—than from social service providers, medical practitioners, or law enforcement officers (Orchowski and Gidycz 2012; Sylaska and Edwards 2014).
Help-seeking behaviors vary by demographic characteristics. Even though people marginalized along lines of race, immigration status, socioeconomic status, disability status, gender identity, and sexual orientation often experience violence at higher rates (Bryant-Davis et al. 2009; Kilpatrick et al. 2007; Tillman et al. 2010; Walters et al. 2013), they appear to seek help from formal organizations less often than more socially advantaged victims (Slatton and Richard 2020; Sokoloff and Dupont 2005). Some socially marginalized victims fear reporting because of the increased stigma it may bring to their communities. Gay people, for example, may worry that reporting to law enforcement will prove harmful stereotypes about queer familial dysfunctionality correct (Calton et al. 2016; Waterman et al. 1989). Some victims worry that service providers may not understand their experiences, such as transgender victims whose deviation from gendered ideal victim stereotypes may prevent providers from treating them as “real” victims deserving of care (Guadalupe-Diaz and Jasinski 2017), or Black victims aware that they may be the only Black people in a rape crisis center (Tillman et al. 2010). Other victims worry that reporting may provoke retributive violence by their abusers or communities (Dichter et al. 2011) or from purported service agencies themselves, like when undocumented or criminally-involved victims are treated as criminals to be punished rather than as victims to be cared for (Bumiller 2008; Campbell 2008; Richie 2012; Wright and Benson 2011). How these worries shape reporting remains an unanswered question. Some literature, for example, suggests that Black women may report some varieties of GBV to the police more often than members of other racial-ethnic groups despite their negative experiences with the criminal-legal system. These numbers are complicated, however, by Black women’s higher rates of victimization and their exposure to higher rates of state surveillance, and thus to mandatory arrest laws (Lippy et al. 2020; Richie 2012). Taken as a whole, then, existing literature suggests both that formal help-seeking is relatively uncommon in general and also that it may skew towards victims who are socially advantaged.
Even though most victims do not report their victimization to law enforcement, nonprofits, or healthcare providers, scholars have suggested that much GBV research sources its data from these formal organizations (Haselschwerdt and Hardesty 2017; Johnson 2011). Most recently, Levine (2021), joining a large group of scholars interested in the generalizability of college samples (Payne and Chappell 2008), conducted a systematic literature review of sexual violence research. He finds, echoing past work, that a plurality of studies recruits participants from colleges or universities. Of course, in many contexts, studying formal organizations makes sense. Scholars interested in sexual violence on campus, for example, must study campuses (Armstrong et al. 2006); those interested in sexual harassment at work understandably study workplaces (McLaughlin et al. 2012); and scholars interested in law enforcement officers’ perceptions of domestic violence victims necessarily study law enforcement (Flood and Pease 2009). However, most people in the U.S. do not graduate from college (NCES 2020) and most victims do not report to the police (Sylaska and Edwards 2014). Because people who graduate from college and report to formal organizations are also demographically atypical, their experiences with violence may not be generalizable to victims broadly. 6 The present study builds on past methodological critiques by systematically reviewing research on both sexual and domestic violence, and by discussing what might be gained from more research on the experiences of people who do not report to formal organizations.
Methods
This article uses Web of Science, consistently recognized as a top repository for peer-reviewed material and an ideal tool for conducting systematic literature reviews (Falagas et al. 2008), to document the scale of organizational bias in sociological GBV research. Most immediately, we extend existing reviews by focusing on GBV research broadly rather than sexual violence research in particular, a decision informed by high rates of co-occurrence of sexual and domestic violence (Hume 2018). Our approach also differs from past research in its focus only on sociological research. Past reviews include research across disciplines. That they report—like Levine (2021)—extensive organizational bias is unsurprising and perhaps unalterable because some disciplines favor organizational samples in general. Psychologists, for example, who conduct extensive research on sexual violence, overwhelmingly use undergraduate student samples in their research (Henrich et al. 2010). Criminologists, too, most centrally conduct work on the criminal-legal system which is made up largely of formal organizations. We argue that sociologists—because of their focus on the social world generally—have something unique to offer to the study of gender-based violence (Armstrong et al. 2018). Sociology, unlike criminology and, practically, psychology, might more feasibly shift towards developing less organizationally-bound data.
Search Criteria
Between October 8, 2021, and October 20, 2021, we conducted Web of Science searches using the keywords "gender-based violence" OR "sexual abuse" OR "sexual violence" OR "sexual harassment" OR "sexual assault" OR "rape" OR "intimate partner violence" OR "domestic violence" OR "domestic abuse" AND "United States". To account for variations in search terms, we also used an asterisk wildcard search of “sex* abuse,” “sex* violence,” “sex* harassment,” and “sex* assault,” though this resulted in no additional articles. We used Web of Science’s advanced search functions to identify only articles published since 2000—in order to capture contemporary approaches to studying GBV, recognizing that methodologies and data availability vary over time—written in English, and, as discussed above, published in sociology journals. Our search, after deleting duplicates, resulted in 719 articles.
Inclusion and Exclusion Criteria
We then reviewed, by hand, each article to determine fit with our inclusion criteria. Where possible, this screening relied only on article titles and abstracts. When abstracts contained insufficient information, we navigated to the complete article. No articles were inaccessible to the authors. To be included in our analysis, articles needed to (a) deal centrally with the experience of or response to gender-based violence, (b) be empirical (quantitative or qualitative) and contemporary, (c) study the United States, and (d) focus on adults. We included these latter two inclusion criteria because understandings of and responses to violence differ both between children and adults (Kellog 2005; Kim and Gostin 2012; Scully 2013), and between the United States and other countries around the world (Helliwell 2000; Weldon 2002). Therefore, we excluded articles that focused exclusively on the perpetration of violence; reviews, meta-analyses, and analyses of cultural products; research on child sexual abuse; and research on countries other than the United States, or comparative pieces between the United States and other countries.
After applying our inclusion and exclusion criteria, we ended with 168 articles from 46 journals. While some literature reviews demand comprehensiveness—such as scoping reviews meant to map entire fields—more descriptive reviews, such as this one, may appropriately use a random sample of articles (Bayliss and Beyer 2015; Pare et al. 2015; Xiao and Watson 2019). We thus reviewed a random 50% (n=84) of the final population of articles by assigning a random number to each article in an Excel file, sorting by the random numbers from lowest to highest, and reviewing the first 84. Thirty-three journals were represented in this smaller sample.
Analytic Strategy
We reviewed most carefully each article’s methodology and attached codes describing sources of data. Each article received a code of “nationally-representative sample,” “random community sample,” “non-random community sample,” “workplace,” “criminal legal,” “college or university,” or “social service provider.” Codes were non-exclusive, and some articles drew data from multiple sources. Most generally, our analysis shows that most articles rely on organizational data. We describe as “organizational” both studies in which researchers used data collected by the organization itself and in which researchers independently identified their sample and collected data from participants in an organization. While we recognize that the quality of data collected by organizations themselves, like Clery statistics, may be very different 7 from data collected by researchers whom organization members may trust more, we collapse both into the category of “organizational data” because both rely on respondents within formal organizations.
Our “organizational” category also collapses together data from very different sorts of organizations. Victims who report to social service providers, for example, may differ from victims who report to the police. However, research suggests that there is significant overlap between these two groups. Reporting to law enforcement significantly increases the likelihood that a victim will receive medical and psychological care (Resnick et al. 2000; Wolitzky-Taylor et al. 2011; Young et al. 1992). Additionally, as service providers become increasingly enmeshed with the state, victims reporting to rape crisis centers and similar organizations may end up also reporting to the police (Martin 2005; Nugent-Borakove et al. 2005; Ruch 2000; Zinzow et al. 2012). Additionally, while those seeking social services may differ somewhat from those reporting to law enforcement, both groups appear to differ, specifically in their relative social advantage, when compared to people who do not formally report to either. Thus, though differences may exist, formal organizations are similar enough to one another to warrant their collapse into a single category for our present purposes.
Results
Figure 1 provides a summary of the results. Out of all 84 reviewed articles, 57 relied on organizational data. Of these 57, 18 drew data from colleges or universities, 16 from criminal-legal organizations, 10 from workplaces, and 10 from social service providers like rape crisis centers or domestic violence shelters. Two of the 57 articles combined data from social service providers and criminal-legal organizations, and one of the 57 combined nationally-representative data with workplace data. Sampled articles by data source.
Of the remaining 27 articles, a plurality (n = 19) relied on nationally-representative data sources like the National Crime Victimization Survey (NCVS), The National Longitudinal Study of Adolescent to Adult Health (Add Health), or the National Survey of Families and Households (NSFH). Some reported on random, but not nationally representative, samples from particular communities (n = 3), like the Youth Development Study from St. Paul, Minnesota, and others developed non-random community samples (n = 5) through strategies like public recruitment of interview participants. These results suggest that sociological research on gender-based violence largely relies on organizational sources of data. Because most victims do not report their experiences with violence to formal organizations, we refer to this pattern as organizational bias.
Why Organizational Bias Matters
As discussed above, research shows that marginalized victims may report to formal organizations less frequently than do socially advantaged victims. Therefore, the organizational bias we identify in the literature may also suggest a dearth of research on the experiences of victims marginalized along lines of socioeconomic status, race, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability status, and citizenship. Including more voices in research may be a laudable goal in and of itself. We call for more non-organizational research, however, not simply for representation’s sake but because existing research suggests that non-reporters’ experiences may differ from reporters’ experiences in important ways. The 32% of articles (n = 27) in our review that do not draw on organizational data provide a glimpse of the sorts of things we might learn from more non-organizational research. Of these 27 articles, 19 were nationally-representative surveys. While useful for understanding the prevalence of violence 8 or the broad relationships between experiences of violence and long-term impacts, these studies are less useful for understanding the nuanced meanings people attach to experiences or their strategies for responding to them. The remaining 8 articles that draw data from community samples, along with a supplementary narrative literature review, show how non-reporters may differ from reporters. Of course, findings from these articles are not generalizable to the experiences of non-reporters generally, but still are illustrative of what might be gained from additional research using non-organizational data.
People who choose not to report their experiences to formal organizations may understand violence differently than do people who report. A study of Black sexual violence victims who did not seek help from social service providers, for example, noted that participants framed violence in terms of historical racial marginalization rather than in terms of interpersonal dynamics, psychological pathology, or toxic masculinity (McGuffey 2013). Similarly, for many Indigenous women, sexual violence parallels colonial intrusion. Therefore, fights against sexual violence are also fights for Indigenous sovereignty, self-determination, and the protection of the land (Deer 2015; Lane 2018; Mack and Na’puti 2019). This broadens our conceptualizations of what sort of thing GBV is—its etiology and its consequences—and helps us understand why formal organizations, which are so closely linked to a largely white and class-advantaged feminist movement of the 1960s, may feel unwelcoming to many marginalized victims.
Beyond understanding violence differently, people who do not report appear also to respond to violence differently. Though most victims do not seek formal services, they do find support elsewhere. Oftentimes support comes from family and friends in victims’ social networks, who might hold abusers accountable for their behavior, offer physical security, and provide long-term emotional and material support to victims. Research shows that such social support is significantly related to positive victim outcomes, particularly for Black women (Goodman et al. 2005; Weis 2001). These sorts of social networks can also help the most marginalized victims negotiate relationships with abusers to avoid further harm while also securing material support from them (Scott et al. 2002), a task the state, tapped through conventional social service and criminal-legal pathways, often fails to do (Haney 2018). Victims even use new technologies to expand their social networks and secure material support following violent incidents. By using tools like GoFundMe to secure resources, some victims avoid the coercive entanglements of state support (Radu and McManus 2018). Of course, such interventions are imperfect. They require victims to entrepreneurially identify support which is easier for some than others; they feed into the privatization of social welfare; and they absolve the state of its responsibility for providing care. However, attention to such practices reveals innovative strategies victims use to heal while also highlighting the gaps in more formal interventions.
While the above interventions are largely informal, some communities do formalize their non-organizational responses to GBV. Some Native people, for example, use restorative justice circles to help abusers understand the harm they caused, and to support both victims and abusers in healing and reincorporating, where possible, into the group (Pranis et al. 2003). Already, lessons learned from successful restorative practices in non-organizational settings are being incorporated into more formal organizations like colleges and universities and the criminal-legal system (Daly 2011; Koss et al. 2014; Miller 2011).
Increased attention to such non-organizational interventions might help stakeholders—activists, healthcare and nonprofit professionals, and policymakers—craft interventions more useful for all victims. The current slate of services, which include nearly-invariably, criminal-legal interventions, crisis hotlines, and group and individual therapy, do not work for all victims. Many victims certainly do see criminal-legal interventions as a sort of justice and, through formal reporting, access other services that can support their healing processes (Fleury-Steiner et al. 2006; Konradi and Burger 2000; Parsons and Bergin 2010). However, criminal-legal interventions can also harm victims. Law enforcement personnel sometimes minimize victims’ experiences, inappropriately attribute responsibility, or neglect to provide victims care (Martin 2005; Sleath and Bull 2017). Additionally, the increasing reliance on the criminal-legal system to respond to GBV contributes to a growing carceral regime responsible for the production of a poor, largely Black and Latino, criminally-involved underclass that is denied housing, employment, health, and autonomy (Bernstein 2010; Gruber 2020; Kim 2020; Richie 2012).
Similarly, much empirical research demonstrates that counseling can improve victims’ self-esteem and self-efficacy following an assault (Bennett et al. 2004; Chivers-Wilson 2006). However, counseling can also feel, for some victims, culturally insensitive or otherwise harmful (Harley et al. 2002; Raja 1998). And zooming out, counseling is a core component of an increasingly therapeutic state that constructs social problems in terms of individual responsibility. Critics worry that as more social problems—poverty, racism, gender inequality, etc.—become troubles dealt with one-on-one with a counselor, structural understandings of and responses to problems will disappear (Brown 1995; Haney 2010; Kam 2014; Sweet 2019, 2021). In limiting our focus to criminal-legal and therapeutic interventions, we may preclude other sorts of interventions—like restorative justice; workplace organizing; movements for gender, racial, and economic justice; or mutual aid—that might produce positive outcomes both for victims and their communities.
This article calls for research that reflects the experiences of a wider swath of victims—those who do not report to formal organizations—to collectively craft responses to violence that more appropriately meet victims’ varying needs. We advocate for an inclusive approach. Research using data from formal organizations—like colleges and universities—does matter because some people do occupy and report to formal organizations. In addition to this research, though, we might also broaden our focus to include harder-to-reach populations. Conventional community sample recruitment strategies (i.e., public flyers and direct engagement) are potentially useful here as they provide deep knowledge of people whose populations are too small to measure meaningfully on national surveys. We might also continue the development and implementation of finer-grained and more representative national samples, now made much less expensive by technology-assisted recruitment tools. Amazon Mechanical Turk (MTurk), for example, has been successfully leveraged to recruit high-quality interview participants that are more representative than conventional convenience samples (Berinsky et al. 2012; Weinberg et al. 2014). Like all methodologies, MTurk is imperfect, both in the quality of its data but also in its contribution to an increasingly privatized surveillance regime and its exploitation of workers (Kees et al. 2017; Levine 2018; Pittman and Sheehan 2016). Our call, therefore, is not for strict adherence to a single panacean methodology but instead for methodological diversity in order to capture diversity in experiences of and responses to gender-based violence.
Footnotes
Acknowledgments
The authors would like to thank Krystale Littlejohn, Social Currents editors Jennifer Augustine and Amanda Koontz, and the anonymous reviewers for their generous feedback on earlier versions of this article. Thanks also to Occidental College for providing a Faculty Enrichment Grant in support of this article’s completion.
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.
