‘Staying silent wasn’t a conscious decision’: Royal bridesmaid Amber Petty on domestic violence

As a victim-survivor of abuse within two past relationships, Amber Petty has warned how the current national conversation about violence against women can cause re-traumatisation.

I’ve been sitting on the sidelines, watching this year of devastating violence towards women unfold. I’ve wanted to say so much, but struggled to find the words. They say losing your language is a symptom of trauma.

I’d always thought trauma was something that applied to the moment physical violence or psychological intimidation was playing out. Now I see it can be true even when that moment – or moments, as it was for me, across two relationships – were years ago.

I’ve done what I consider something of a therapy masterclass around various aspects of my life. And I’ve told myself over the years that I’ve broken my pattern of attracting these kinds of men, and my addiction to staying after I spotted the first red flag. (I refer here specifically to relationships with partners, not violence by strangers.)

This work has given me the confidence and safety I desperately needed. And I did all of it knowing that those two violent men – one who used psychological violence and the other physical (which was worse? I still can’t answer that) – would likely ask nothing of themselves. Nor would anyone else ask anything of them, either.

Amber Petty. Picture: David Caird for Stellar

I believed nothing would be done to the man who punched me with a closed fist, minutes after pushing his forehead forcefully into mine as he screamed words I don’t recall and his spittle covered my face. At the time, I believed that seeking justice would certainly require more than I could endure.

So I didn’t scream back. I did step backwards multiple times, hoping he’d give me the “luxury” of enough space so I didn’t have to feel his breath. But he purposely kept inching closer, eyes blank with fury drilling into mine as he reconnected his head down upon mine again and again.

Listen to Amber Petty on the latest episode of Stellar’s podcast, Something To Talk About, below:

Eventually I didn’t move away anymore. Was I supposed to run away? Was that the answer to the question of what would keep me safe? So many voices come into my head when I relive this and other moments of terror. I now know they’re not mine; they’re collectively yours. The you who I assumed would judge me over these events.

I hoped my ex’s rage would run itself out if I stayed silent and allowed him to pull rank, both physically and mentally. Which is why when his clenched fist hit my lower stomach, I wasn’t ready for it. (In what world should I be ready?) Instantly I hit the floor, and my body instinctively moved into the foetal position. I could feel his foot at the edge of my back as I realised I felt no pain. I was unable to bring air into my lungs.

My mind split into two thoughts at that moment. I knew there was a high chance I might get a second strike, but another thought had jumped the queue: “How long can a human body stay alive without breathing?”

‘Periods of numbness and the inability to articulate how I feel verbally.’ Amber Petty has opened up about being a victim-survivor of domestic violence. Picture: David Caird for Stellar

Once I was able to pull my body back up so I was seated upright, I became aware that my ex had left the house. Staying silent about what had taken place wasn’t a conscious decision; I simply lost my language for the first time. I had no internal reference point for how to deal with what had happened. Externally, I didn’t trust how the world would view me.

I was busy pretending I wasn’t all the things I felt society thought about women like me: she’s got issues, she’s angry, she has a drinking problem, she has bad taste in men.

I could fill the page with opinions and excuses that should never have been uttered in private commentary around women or girls who had been abused or murdered. I never deserved to carry this burden, yet I still thought of it as mine.

The sole purpose of sharing my story – at least, this small part of it – is my fear of the blind spots within the wider debate around violence against women.

In conversations with or around co-workers, close friends and acquaintances, we must learn how to read the room. Because these historically overdue discussions are about women like me.

Women who are your daughters, your co-workers, your neighbours, your mothers, your grandmothers and friends. Women who are in marriages or partnerships that you deem happy, even if they’re not. (“But he’s a nice bloke!”)

As a by-product of all this attention and all these discussions, many of us are experiencing a potential re-traumatisation, born of events and memories from which we might never fully heal.

Read Amber Petty’s full story inside the latest issue of Stellar. Picture: Stellar

This may show up as anger, as grief (which is complex enough), as a fear of being seen. And, like me, we might be on the back foot, still learning to understand what we’re carrying – or what trauma even is.

Not to mention how we prevent ourselves from drowning in it.

Equally, I want to stress – and this is where it gets tricky – that the last thing I want to do is inspire anyone to stop talking. I’m discovering what I’m feeling includes periods of numbness and the inability to articulate how I feel verbally. (Aside from the written word, and only now.)

I recently had an “aha” moment, one that left me feeling guilt, as I contemplated all the women like my grandmother Jean Sinclair. I never got to meet her, but I know she endured a violent marriage. Years later, she would be written off as a woman who became an alcoholic and eventually took her own life.

Historical views held little compassion for women like Jean, let alone any understanding of why she chose to take her own life.

As if it were as simple as a bad relationship with a bottle, rather than what was really at the core of her desire to permanently disconnect from her pain.

We owe it to her, to women like me, and the memory of every single woman who ever endured the violent hands of a man, to keep these meaningful and difficult discussions going, albeit with precious discernment.

The generational trauma lives in our psyche. We’ve lost enough women.

If you or someone you know needs support, call 1800 737 732 or visit 1800respect.org.au.

Listen to Amber Petty on the latest episode of Stellar’s podcast, Something To Talk About, below:

Originally published as ‘Staying silent wasn’t a conscious decision’: Royal bridesmaid Amber Petty on domestic violence