Open Letter to Janay Palmer Rice

Elevator photo 2014 09 16Dear Janay Palmer Rice,

I am sorry you have felt humiliated by the media attention to your husband’s violence toward you.  Hopefully, you will come to learn that no one can shame you:  They can shame only themselves.

When it comes to the thought of leaving someone you have only recently married and with whom you have a child:  He can likely convince you that the courts will grant him full custody and leave you unable to protect your child.  According to Lundy Bancroft, abusive fathers do petition for custody at twice the rate of non-abusive fathers.  An excellent attorney is essential to protecting your interests.

What message is your highly-publicized abuse giving to others?  The media is loving that this story has so much traction.  Others  who are currently being victimized (this includes some men–and not all abuse is in traditional male-female relationships) are watching your case to assess if they can safely leave.  Some are still deciding, balancing the good with the bad.  They, and you, need to realize that absent a minimum of a year’s participation in a program designed specifically for domestic abusers, the bad will only get worse.  (I am not referring to Anger Management programs.  An abuser’s anger is perfectly managed, and directed laser-like at the victim.)  It ends in death with alarming frequency.

Maybe your protests to the media indicate simple posturing in order to keep yourself alive; it would make perfect sense.

If a man is strong enough to play professional football, surely he knows his hands are potentially lethal weapons.  It puzzles me that prosecutors seem to have made no mention of this.

The most dangerous time for a victim is in the act of leaving.  I would never wish for you to leave without an airtight plan, for your safety and that of your child.  You can’t just grab your things and go.  That is way too risky.

Your being well-known will not prevent your local shelter from hearing your story and working with you.  Or maybe you have a different way out.

If you don’t take some self-protective action, I worry that you could turn into the next Kasandra Perkins.  Remember Kansas City Chiefs Linebacker Jovan Belcher’s girlfriend who was shot in front of their 3-month-old child before he turned the gun on himself?  Please, do not let that be you.

One Additional Letter

smiling lemon

What a smile

I have one more letter behind my name now. Just one, not a set. I am now an LPCC, or Licensed Professional Clinical Counselor, when I was formerly an LPC, or Licensed Professional Counselor. That extra “C” does make my life easier. As of this past October 7, I no longer need to have a supervisor sign off on diagnoses and correspondence. And I clients write their checks directly to me. Yup, counseling law required that as an LPCC I not collect my own money. The extra “C” did mean I jumped through enough hoops to satisfy the Ohio Counselor, Social Worker, and Marriage and Family Therapist Board. (I know, it’s a mouthful.) I got a criminal records check–which was a real accomplishment because it is hard to get my fingerprints. I completed and documented 3,000 hours. And of course additional hours were missed due to my sometimes forgetting to post them, so I’m sure I did way more than was necessary there. This included a huge amount of supervision–though I got lucky on that score. Running a private practice, I chose and paid my own supervisor. Where else do you get to choose your own boss? And my supervisor, plus a former supervisor who covered a very few hours back in the very beginning, filled out their own double-secret documentation for the Board. (Double-secret as in, I was not permitted to read it.) And I filled out a form. And I sent them a cashier’s check! That was the magic action, I’m thinking. I am happy, my clients are happy, and I’m guessing even the Board is happy. You’ve all experienced this at some point, though: You go through a major life change: getting married, getting that degree, getting the promotion you had your eye on…and then you wake up the next morning and the change matters, but you are still the same person you were before. Luckily, I liked the person I was before. And now the difference is I am a few days older and I have one more letter behind my name.