These Three Misconceptions About Domestic Violence Are Killing Women, Black Women Especially

Women are not okay right now. Black women are especially not okay.

This past weekend, a 31-year-old Louisiana man shot and killed seven of his own children and a nephew, ages 3 to 11, across two Shreveport homes in the early hours of a Sunday morning. His wife and another woman, believed to be his girlfriend, were both shot and critically wounded. He was in the middle of separating from his wife. Eight children. Gone. Before most of us had finished our morning coffee.

Just days before that, former Virginia Lt. Governor Justin Fairfax shot and killed his wife, Dr. Cerina Fairfax, a beloved dentist, in the basement of their home, then went upstairs and killed himself. Their teenage son called 911. Police say the trigger may have been Fairfax being served paperwork for an upcoming divorce court date.

And just weeks before that, Coral Springs Vice Mayor Nancy Metayer Bowen was shot multiple times with a shotgun by her husband, who then slept in the house with her body before wrapping her in blankets and stuffing her in garbage bags. She was the first Black and Haitian American woman ever elected to the Coral Springs City Commission and was preparing to announce a congressional run. She never got the chance.

Three news cycles. Three Black women targeted by intimate partners. Three communities shattered. And the thing is, this is not unusual. This is EVERY SINGLE DAY.

According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, an estimated 51% of Black adult female homicides are related to intimate partner violence. Black women are two and a half times more likely to be murdered by men than their white counterparts. In some states, that disparity is even more extreme: in Wisconsin, Black women are 20 times more likely to be killed than white women. These are not abstractions. These are daughters, mothers, dentists, vice mayors, and children who will never see their twelfth birthday.

As I scroll through social media commentary on these cases, I am watching people repeat the very misconceptions that likely contributed to these women's deaths. People are outraged, which is right. But they are also calling exclusively for better mental health resources. They are, in some cases, sympathizing with perpetrators they describe as wonderful fathers and or husbands who simply fell on hard times. To me, these responses reveal how profoundly we misunderstand domestic violence, and that misunderstanding is costing women their lives. Here are three misconceptions we need to retire immediately.

Misconception 1: We would know if someone we knew and or liked was an abuser.

No. We would not.

Abusers are often the most charming people in the room. They are frequently handsome, socially gifted, well-regarded in their communities, and beloved by their friends. They wear a public face that bears little to no resemblance to what happens behind closed doors. We learned this about Harvey Weinstein, who was celebrated by Hollywood for decades. We learned it about Bill Cosby, who was "America's Dad." We learned it about Sean Combs and Jeffrey Epstein.

We are learning it now about Cesar Chavez. Civil rights icon Dolores Huerta, his partner and co-founder of the United Farm Workers, has accused him of rape. Multiple other women have come forward alleging sexual abuse, including two women who say the abuse began when they were just 12 and 13 years old. A man whose name is on schools, streets, and a federal holiday was allegedly raping children.

If we could not see it in these high-profile cases with the benefit of hindsight, what makes us think we can spot it in our cousin's husband, our coworker's boyfriend, our sister's fiance? The neighbor of Shreveport shooter Shamar Elkins told CBS News that just the evening before the massacre, he had waved at him from the porch while the children played in the yard. He had posted photos with his children two weeks earlier with the caption: "With all my kids, what a blessed day."

The mask is the whole point. Stop trusting the mask. When people trust the mask they tell targets that everything will be okay and that the abuser is a great guy. This often causes targets to hesitate to leave such relationships.

Misconception 2: This is purely a mental health issue.

Mental health challenges do not inherently or necessarily cause a person to become abusive. This point cannot be overstated. Millions of people live with depression, anxiety, trauma, and serious psychiatric conditions without ever terrorizing a partner. Framing intimate partner violence primarily as a mental health crisis is not only inaccurate, it is dangerous. It sends victims back into danger with a referral to a therapist instead of a safety plan. It asks communities to feel compassion for perpetrators while the women those perpetrators targeted are still bleeding.

Lundy Bancroft, one of the world's foremost experts on abusive men, has spent decades working directly with perpetrators. His findings are unambiguous. In his landmark book Why Does He Do That?, Bancroft writes that the abusive man's behavior "isn't caused by his feelings, it's caused by his values" and that abuse "is not about anger, it's about power and control." He has documented that abusers are not men who lose control. They are men who use abuse strategically, because it works. It gets them what they want: a compliant partner, a submissive household, unchallenged authority. Bancroft is explicit: abusers choose to abuse because of the benefits that abuse brings them.

This is not a sickness. It is a worldview. There is a lot of work to be done in transforming worldviews of male domination and male entitlement to worldviews of human collaboration and accountability.

Misconception 3: This is purely an anger management problem.

Many abusive men have excellent anger management skills at work and among friends. They do not rage at their bosses. They do not lose their tempers with friends. They hold it together brilliantly in every public setting. They reserve their cruelty specifically for the person or people at home who have nowhere to go. That is not a loss of control. That is a targeted choice. People think that anger management programs will solve the issue and that is usually not the case.

Abuse is rooted in entitlement, not emotion. It is the belief, held deeply and without remorse, that a partner exists to serve, to submit, and to stay. When that belief is threatened, when a woman begins to reclaim herself, when she says enough, when she files for divorce, when she prepares to announce a congressional campaign, when she hires a lawyer, the abuser often makes one final, catastrophic assertion of control.

A suicide afterward is not simply a tragedy layered onto a tragedy. It can itself be understood as a final act of control: a way to escape accountability, to take the narrative, to ensure she does not get to tell her story.

What do we do from here?

I want to be transparent: I did not know Dr. Cerina Fairfax, Nancy Metayer Bowen, or any of the women and children touched by the Shreveport massacre. I do not have insider knowledge of their relationships or what they endured. What I do have is my own lived experience with coercive control, years of research, and an intimate familiarity with the patterns that these cases, heartbreakingly, reflect.

And what I know is this: many women in these relationships do not know they are being abused.

They think he is depressed. They think he is stressed. They think he has unresolved childhood wounds that the right therapist, the right prayer, the right amount of patience and grace will eventually heal. They are loving, devoted, highly capable women, the kind who read books and research everything and try harder than anyone. And they are being failed at every turn.

Her friends tell her to be kinder when he is cruel, because they assume he is having a hard day rather than choosing to erode her self-worth. Her church community tells her to forgive and make herself more sexually appealing when he cheats, because they assume infidelity is about sexual dissatisfaction rather than entitlement to multiple partners. Her marriage counselor asks her to see his perspective, even when his perspective is that she is not entitled to one.

And so she stays. Not because she is weak. Because everyone she trusts is telling her there is nothing to run from and she believes them rather than that quiet voice inside.

Black women are especially vulnerable.

Research shows that Black women in particular face an additional layer of barriers: a culture that prizes privacy and endurance, churches that prioritize keeping families together, and a deep, historically earned mistrust of law enforcement that makes calling the police feel like trading one danger for another. The result is that Black women suffer in silence at devastating rates, and the silence is killing them.

What is desperately needed right now is clarity. Not platitudes. Not prayers alone. Not condolences offered and then forgotten by next week's news cycle. Clarity about what abuse actually is, what it looks like before the gun comes out, and what it costs us when we get it wrong.

That clarity is exactly why I wrote my empowerment workbook for moms, Silenced to Soaring: Heal from Chronic Silent Treatments, Toxic Relationships, and Abuse. It is also why I am now facilitating online peer coaching groups for moms who are ready to soar after being silenced by abuse. Because the path out of coercive control is not just logistical. It is psychological, spiritual, and communal. Women need frameworks for understanding what happened to them, and they need the company of other women who have walked the same road.

We are in a crisis of epic proportions, and the false narratives surrounding domestic violence are not just wrong. They are lethal.

So I want to speak directly to any woman reading this who is nodding along, who recognizes something of her own life in these words.

Do not ask yourself whether you have been hit.

Ask yourself whether you feel safe. Ask yourself whether you can speak freely, or whether you are perpetually measuring your words, walking on eggshells in your own home. Ask yourself whether you feel free to leave a room, spend money, see friends, or make a decision without anxiety about the consequences. Ask yourself whether you recognize yourself anymore.

If the answer to any of those questions gives you pause, please know: what you are likely experiencing has a name. It is coercive control. It is abuse. And creating a safety plan may be the most important thing you ever do for yourself and your children.

You deserve to be safe.

Resources

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or text START to 88788. Available 24/7 at thehotline.org

Black Women's Blueprint: blackwomensblueprint.org. Culturally responsive support for Black women and girls experiencing violence.

loveisrespect (National Dating Abuse Helpline): 1-866-331-9474 or text LOVEIS to 22522

Ama K. Karikari, Esq. is author of an empowerment workbook for mothers entitled Silenced to Soaring: Heal from Chronic Silent Treatments, Toxic Relationships, and Abuse. She also runs Sister Soaring Circles, online peer group coaching programs for women overcoming abuse to live their most empowered lives.