I was in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship for four years. In the decade since I escaped my abusive partner, I’ve largely moved on with my life and am in a healthy marriage.
My ex started dating someone else shortly after we split, and though I do not know her, we travel in the same professional circles. I’ve overheard people say things like, “She was supposed to come out for drinks, but of course she won’t come — she always has some excuse.” In my abusive relationship, part of my partner’s set of control tactics was to isolate me from my friends, family and professional connections. I know in my gut that my ex has not changed, and that his new partner is most likely in a similar situation. I was finally empowered to leave my ex after I saw his brother behave similarly with his own girlfriend, and I spoke to her to compare our experiences.
I keep mentally writing my ex’s new partner an anonymous email that says: “It’s not you, it’s him. For every time you’ve been made to feel like your desires for connection and community are wrong, I want you to know that they are not. His control over you is abuse that you do not deserve in any way.”
I am confident that my heart is in the right place. But I am also aware that to reach out, even anonymously, would be to insert myself into someone else’s life and to risk re-exposing myself. Do I have a moral obligation to share my experience with this stranger, or should I mind my own business? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
The ethics of intervening in other people’s lives, especially when it comes to intimate relationships, can run into a tangle of complications. In this case, the act of sharing your experiences carries its own risks. You need to decide, in particular, whether your ex still poses a threat to you. But I do hope you can safely find a way to help this woman.
Your concern springs from an important truth: You are uniquely positioned to understand her situation, knowing the emotional terrain of his particular brand of abuse. The trouble is that an anonymous warning could feel creepy (“Who is this person surveilling my life?”) or condescending (“What gives this stranger the right to judge me?”). Think about whether, in your own case, an unsigned email from some mysterious address would have had the same effect as the conversations that liberated you. The power of shared experience lies not just in the information exchanged but in the human connection that lends it weight.
I wonder if another approach is possible. You’ve evidently been hearing about her situation through mutual acquaintances. Could one of these people take her out for coffee? Someone who knows both of you could naturally bring up your experience, creating an opening for her to recognize parallels in her own situation. This approach could offer what an anonymous email can’t — a real conversation with a person she trusts, leading to the kind of insights that actually helped you break free.
Readers Respond
Last week’s question was from a parent who discovered that their son’s best friend and current roommate was a thief. The parent wrote: “My son mentioned that the security deposit from a previous apartment they shared was never returned. The check was supposed to be made out to one of the four roommates, and then fairly distributed among the others. I called the company and they sent me a copy of the front and back of the check, which was signed and deposited by the same lying roommate. … Do I have an ethical obligation to tell my son, or should I let him continue his convivial and peaceful last year of college with this tight-knit group of guys?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “Having some sense of an independent reality — being able to navigate complicated relationships in light of the truth — is integral to our agency, and to the possibility of an authentic human existence. … So share with your son what you’ve learned. You needn’t make any judgments about the false friend — how your son wants to respond is his business. Just don’t pollute the climate of trust between you and your son. It’s easier to recover from the manipulations of a malefactor, I suspect, than from the discovery that someone who should have helped you see clearly chose, instead, to leave you in a fog of comfortable deception.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
⬥
The son deserves to know that his roommate stole his share of the security deposit. However, in addition to that betrayal, he will be dealing with the betrayal of his parent, who contacted his landlord without his knowledge and has been keeping this information secret from him. How can he trust that this parent won’t be calling his professors or his boss to check up on things? The letter writer needs to be extremely apologetic. — Jeanne
⬥
For almost 50 years, I have had the same close group of friends from college. Friends do not steal from one another. The letter writer has a parental interest in telling the son that he is being victimized. I understand the desire to avoid damaging the friendships, but that is on the thief. — Jude
⬥
It’s a shame that the roommate has not been honest or ethical, but the writer has stepped in front of the son, robbing him of the chance to deal with the opportunity, make his own judgments and learn his own lessons. The son, presumably in his early 20s, would have been better served by learning the facts himself and then dealing with the lying roommate as he chose. — Steve
⬥
I agree with the Ethicist, and would add that the parent is also obligated to inform the other roommates. Simply providing the photocopied check to them without comment other than “For your records” would suffice. Let each then take whatever measure is appropriate. — Mary Jane
⬥
The letter writer should be prepared for the anger the son will likely feel upon learning that his parent withheld knowledge of a previous transgression. And then the letter writer should be prepared to handle the situation with regret, not defensiveness. I’m not sure what this parent thought was at stake in protecting the son — the realization that sometimes people you love do bad things? Regardless, doing so was a mistake. — Jennifer