Launch of “Hidden”, an exhibition organised by the Bridgewater-based Breaking the Silence Group, Mawson’s Pavilion, Monday Feb 23rd, 2015
This exhibition is about breaking the silence that shrouds family violence.
One of the reasons this is often so hard to do is that there are different motivations for staying silent.
Take the example of same-sex attracted and gender diverse people.
We know that violence is perpetrated against lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex people by their family members but that victims stay silent out of fear they will be blamed for provoking the violence by coming out.
We also know that family violence occurs in same-sex relationships, just as it occurs in heterosexual relationships.
But same-sex partners are often unwilling to report because of the perception that a man should be able to stand up to another man or a woman to another woman.
Worse still is a fear of how reporting family violence, or even talking about it, may reflect on same-sex couples generally.
Same-sex relationships are still stigmatised as unstable and short-lived.
A fear of fostering these stereotypes sustains the silence.
I imagine the people who have organised and contributed to this exhibition face a similar problem.
Bridgewater and the Brighton municipality more broadly is stereotyped as a place where family violence is more likely because of economic pressures and family breakdown.
It’s not true: family violence is everywhere.
But there must still be a reticence to report or discuss family violence in Bridgewater for fear of proving the detractors right.
That’s why the organisers and contributors to this exhibition deserve high praise.
They have put all those fears and frets behind them.
They are inspirations to everyone who is still uncertain about breaking their own silence.
I met another inspirational advocate on family violence a few weeks ago when I was a finalist for Australian of the Year.
In my eyes Rosie stood out among the finalists she shared the stage with.
Of course, I’m talking about Rosie Batty.
In my eyes Rosie stood out among the finalists she shared the stage with.
We were mostly long-term, battle-hardened advocates.
Rosie seemed more vulnerable, not just because her tragic loss was only a year ago, but because she hasn’t yet faced years of campaigning.
I saw her shed not a few tears in the lead up to the ceremony.
I wondered if being Australian of the Year might be too much for her.
But I was wrong to have any doubts.
When Rosie humbly accepted being named Australian of the Year I noticed from the stage that the audience leaned forward as if to uplift her.
At that moment I realised she was the most worthy recipient of that the high honour not despite her vulnerability but because of it.
Her honesty, her unmasked sadness and her authentic resilience have all become a source of great strength.
Being open and honest about family violence makes you incredibly vulnerable.
It makes you vulnerable to blame, ridicule, ostracism, stereotyping, and of course, more violence.
But breaking the silence also opens up the possibility of support, hope, healing and ultimately an end to family violence.
Rosie Batty is a reminder to all survivors of family violence that it’s possible to turn their vulnerability around and make of it something good.
Indeed, in an age when the main qualification for leadership seems to be the ability to push other people out of the way, Rosie reminds the nation that we’re all hurt, that we all have tears to shed, and this need not stop us doing great and powerful things.
This exhibition has exactly the same, invaluable message.
