Domestic Violence Is a Haunted House Nobody Should Live in for Halloween
I have known author Candace Sinclair since we were kids. Her cousin Terrell was the first person I met at the elementary school my aunt taught at of which I would later graduate from. Through Terrell, I met his cousins Candace and Linda. Candace was always a gorgeous girl that the boys loved and the girls were jealous of. Her good looks presented her with opportunities others could only dream of. Candace was also smart. After Terrell died unexpectedly, I told her we would stay in touch. Since his passing, we have stayed in touch for years, which is why I was shocked to learn that Candace is a domestic abuse survivor. I only learned about her traumatic experience when she told me about the book she was writing.
“The Lovebombing Chronicles: A Memoir of Faith, Fear and Finding My Voice,” is a well-written short read about how a licensed school counselor herself had to overcome the wicked ways of an unhealthy marriage. It is uniquely written in a first-person account and backed with academic data on domestic violence. Sinclair writes in a way that weaves her personal experiences and clinical data to support her writing that flows seamlessly.
However, the book is not just a personal account of a domestic violence survivor. No, Sinclair goes there. She explains how spiritual institutions often protect abusers for the sake of protecting the institution. Such behavior happens in all communities but is rarely spoken about publicly in the Black American community, especially if the institution is a church. Sinclair avoids directly exposing the institution by name, while also explaining how institutional leaders, congregants, friends, and families fail to support domestic abuse survivors. In Chapter 6, she writes:
“The truth is, in too many communities, spiritual or otherwise, reputation often takes precedence over reality. Image over integrity. They saw his charm, his position, his years of service. They couldn’t, or wouldn’t, see the damage he was doing behind closed doors.”
In my personal life I’ve known men who have abused women. The vast majority of them would be considered upstanding citizens, who often have a plethora of male friends and female admirers. The mask they wear to shield the real person behind them shows how many victims are initially pulled in. Once they are unmasked for who they are, they often lash out at their victim(s). The victim is often placed in a Catch-22.
“I was forced into the impossible position of trying to keep peace between the man I married and the children I had raised,” Sinclair writes.
Well-meaning family members often act in ways that cover up abuse or allow it to fester by turning a blind eye. Victims, oftentimes feeling ashamed of their situation, will also keep the abuse private.
“I documented everything—photos, videos, audio. I began keeping records, not just for protection but because I needed proof. Proof, in case no one believed me. Proof in case I didn’t survive,” Sinclair writes. “But I still stayed. I stayed because I was afraid to leave. Because I didn’t know how to tell people. Because, like many women in abusive relationships, I still thought I could manage it. Fix it. Outlast it. I even told myself maybe he didn’t mean it.”
Domestic violence tarnishes American society and has debilitating effects on the nation. It is a cancer that destroys the reputation of people and institutions who fail to act, while leaving victims shattered into pieces, like Humpty Dumpty, searching for ways to be put back together again.
One of the hardest things for a woman to decide is whether she is in a bad marriage or in danger. Often, the abuser's overt acts of genuine kindness compound the difficulty. However, over time, the abuser transforms into a monster, threatening their partner with physical violence, destroying property, and using hateful words as a weapon.
Chicago native and author Candace Sinclair details her battle in surviving domestic abuse in a new memoir. Photo courtesy of Candace Sinclair
In Chapter 12, Sinclair delves into academic research, clinical insights, and the experiences of other survivors that resonate with her own. She lays out the basics of understanding narcissistic abuse, “love bombing,” and the silence that often follows from faith communities when a person comes forward. The betrayal of silence and shunning from family members, friends, and community members can have a devastating effect on victims.
“Faith communities are often built on shared values, mutual accountability, and a stated commitment to justice. But when allegations of abuse arise—especially involving those in positions of respect or influence—these same communities can become places where silence overshadows truth,” Sinclair writes. “Studies have documented that when faith-based institutions fail to act decisively in abuse cases, survivors often experience a secondary wound: institutional betrayal (Oakley & Kinmond, 2013).”
October is recognized around the world as Domestic Violence Awareness Month. However, it is often overlooked, as it is also Breast Cancer Awareness Month and ends with Halloween. People generally find it easier to discuss breast cancer awareness because the topic is more comfortable than that of domestic violence, which involves real-life perpetrators. Halloween’s bogeyman is a fictional character, while the holiday itself is filled with fun and sweet treats. Domestic violence is a genuine issue, involving real-life individuals who commit heinous acts beyond the imagination of a witch or a zombie.
“The Lovebombing Chronicles: A Memoir of Faith, Fear, and Finding My Voice” is currently available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle formats. An audible version is also available.