Deirdre Silverman, who does have a sense of humor, lives near Ithaca, New York and works in community economic development.

“Hey, Mark really socked you one!”

“Doesn’t your husband know he should hit you where it doesn’t show?”

“I guess that’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut.”

Thirty-five years ago, I was in a car accident and banged my head against the dashboard, suffering a concussion, broken ribs and other minor injuries. By the time I returned to work the following week, the only visible sign of the accident was a very dramatic, flamboyantly-hued black eye. I was amazed and infuriated by how often people thought the appropriate response to my injury was a joke about my husband hitting me. The comments above were typical. As a college teacher, I heard these jokes from students, colleagues and staff.

Domestic violence wasn’t talked about as openly back then. There were few services for victims. The first battered women’s shelter in the U.S. didn’t open till 1974. Judges were unresponsive to requests for protection from abusers, and blaming the victim—for not keeping her mouth shut, not keeping the house clean, not meeting sexual demands, not leaving the abuser, etc---was common. Many religious leaders stressed the importance of keeping marriages together, invoking the doctrine that the husband is God’s representative in the household, and the wife’s duty is to obey.

I was teaching women’s studies classes, and my experience with these “jokes” led me to add material on domestic violence (not so easy to find at that time), and volunteer when the Task Force for Battered Women started in Ithaca later in the 1970’s. As a volunteer advocate and safe home provider, I worked with women who differed in age, education, ethnicity, nationality and economic status. What they shared was the terror they and their children faced at the hands of violent men, frustration at the lack of understanding and support from family and friends, and a sense of relief at having escaped the torment.

Fast forward to 2006: After surgery to remove skin cancer on the side of my forehead, once again I had a black eye. And I found that despite the progress we’ve made in recognizing the seriousness of domestic violence and offering services to assist the victims, in one area little has changed. Repeatedly, I heard the same jokes I had in 1971. When I was with my husband, people directed the jokes to him, almost as if I wasn’t there.

I was somewhat encouraged when I realized that I hadn’t heard these jokes from anyone under the age of forty. Perhaps that was a sign that younger people were more aware, or was it just that my peers were more comfortable “joking” with me? Unfortunately, when I started talking to younger people about it, too often I heard that the jokes were funny because “someone like me” was so unlikely to be a victim of domestic violence. Because I’m white, educated, older and financially secure? The myth still persists that domestic violence only occurs in certain racial, socio-economic or cultural groups. In the 2006 U.S. elections, two incumbent Congressmen (perhaps not the greatest group model of respectability) were defeated, at least in part because physical abuse of a wife and mistress became public. I also was told that people make such jokes because they’re embarrassed and don’t know what to say. Really? When was the last time you heard someone jokingly ask a man with a black eye if his wife had hit him? Do people make jokes about injured children? What is it about women’s position in our society that makes these jokes so common and acceptable? And of course, “They’re just jokes.” Why don’t women have a sense of humor?

Let me state this clearly: The language we use, and the jokes we tell and laugh at, are reflections of reality. Hitting women is not funny. It wasn’t funny 35 years ago, and it isn’t funny now. It isn’t funny if the woman is someone you don’t think of as a victim, it isn’t funny if you’re uncomfortable looking at a bruise, and it isn’t funny if you think her partner is a great person who would never do such a thing. These jokes deny the painful reality of violence against women, and the jokes, along with the violence, need to stop.

I realize that old habits are hard to break. So here’s an idea. The next time you make such a joke, or think about making one, or laugh at someone else’s, pull out your wallet or checkbook and donate money to an organization that assists victims of violence. It may not make you laugh, but it may help others stop crying.