October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
It started in 1981 as a single “Day of Unity” organized by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. By 1989, Congress made it a full month.
So here’s my question. If we’re so aware, why do so many women still get hurt, still get doubted, and still get punished for telling the truth?
I’ve taught self-defense for more than 25 years. Here’s what I’ve learned. The threat is not the same for everyone. Pretending it is doesn’t help anybody.
Men are victims too. Their pain is real, and nothing I write here takes that away.
According to the CDC, roughly 1 in 4 women in the U.S. experience serious intimate partner violence in their lifetime. For men, it’s about 1 in 10. About 1 in 4 women have experienced a completed or attempted rape. For men, it’s about 1 in 26.
And when domestic violence turns deadly, the gap gets wider. Around half of all women murdered in this country are killed by a current or former partner. For men, it’s a small fraction.
Then there’s the physical reality. On average, the man who attacks a woman is bigger, heavier, and stronger. He often isn’t a stranger. He’s a partner, a date, a friend, a coworker. Someone she trusted.
That changes everything about how she has to think about safety. A man walking to his car at night is mostly worried about a stranger. A woman has to worry about the stranger and the people she knows.
If you’ve followed the news this past week, you’ve seen the Cornell case.
A former student, identified in court papers as Jane Doe, filed a civil lawsuit this September. She alleges that seven members of a campus fraternity drugged and sexually assaulted her over several hours in October 2024. She was 20. The lawsuit says one of the men used a group chat to invite others into the room.
These are allegations. No one has been charged, and the accused deserve their day in court. The district attorney says her original 2024 statement differed from the lawsuit. A grand jury will sort that out.
But look at the two years in between. No criminal case. A campus process that, according to the lawsuit, let some of the men write essays as discipline. A survivor who, advocates say, was never told the outcome of her own Title IX case. It took a lawsuit, a public outcry, and the governor of New York before anyone took a second look.
A recent Cornell graduate told NPR that on that campus, worrying about being drugged was just normal. Read that again. Normal.
This is the pattern I see over and over. A woman is hurt. She speaks up. Then she’s put on trial. Her drinking, her memory, her clothes, her motives. Online, strangers call her a liar. She learns fast that telling the truth can cost her almost as much as the assault did.
And every woman watching learns the same lesson: don’t count on being believed.
That’s not a reason to stay silent. It’s a reason to be prepared.
I want to be very careful here. Nothing a woman does or doesn’t do makes an assault her fault. The responsibility belongs to the person who chooses to hurt her. Period.
But I’m a self-defense instructor, not a policymaker. I can’t fix a university’s discipline process. What I can do is help a woman walk into a room with more options.
That’s what training is. Options.
And it’s not mostly about punching.
It starts with awareness. You notice the guy who keeps refilling your drink. You notice when the exits are being blocked. You learn to say “No. Back up. Stop.” out loud, with force. For a lot of women, that’s the hardest technique in the class. And you have a plan: who you arrive with, who you leave with, who knows where you are.
When awareness and words aren’t enough, you need the physical tools. Break a grip. Get off the ground. Create space. Not win. Get out. Fear will be there. Training teaches you to use it instead of freezing in it.
Let me be honest about the limits, too. If someone has drugged you, technique may not be there for you. That’s exactly why awareness, planning, and friends who watch your back matter so much. Self-defense starts long before the fight.
This October, I’m asking two things.
First, believe women when they come forward. Listen before you judge. Let investigators investigate, and let courts decide. But don’t make her pay for speaking up.
Second, if you’re a woman, or you love one, get training. Not because the world should work this way. Because right now, it does.
The best fight is the one you never have to be in. Training gives you the best chance of avoiding it, and of getting out if you can’t.
If you are in danger right now, call 911. The National Domestic Violence Hotline is free, confidential, and available 24/7 at 1-800-799-7233, or text START to 88788. The RAINN National Sexual Assault Hotline is 1-800-656-4673. Here in Connecticut, CT Safe Connect is at 888-774-2900.
