The conversation around mutual abuse first piqued my interest around the time that the Amber Heard and Johnny Depp defamation trial was making headlines. It was the first time I had ever heard of the term, and even to my inexperienced ears I thought it sounded odd. In every relationship, there is a power imbalance. Power imbalances in relationships include anything from age difference, monetary difference or education difference. Just because a relationship has an imbalance does not mean it also must be abusive. But thinking of this led me to go further down this rabbit hole. If every relationship has a power imbalance, how can there be a relationship with mutual abuse? In the simplest terms, abuse is about power and control. There is always the dominant personality (presumably the abuser) and the one who reacts back (the person being abused).
It left me wondering: is there such a thing as the perfect victim? The victim who never says anything hurtful and who immediately leaves at the first sign of tension? Is there a version of a victim who never talks back to their abuser, never snaps, never retaliates and just takes every blow and never once defends themself?
No, there isn’t. So why do we keep pretending there is? Why do we act like this impossibly passive version of a person, “the perfect victim,” is the only one deserving of empathy? Yes, victims fight back and say cruel things under pressure. They do not sit still and let people hurt them, no matter how much people seem to want them to. These people, the ones that defend themselves, also deserve empathy.
Recent internet drama has brought this argument to the forefront. When British YouTuber Alex Elmslie was accused by his ex-girlfriend, Alice Henz, of verbal and physical abuse, the internet was outraged at first. But all it took was his response video, a glorified “No, it was you”, for people to dismiss the situation entirely. “They’re just as bad as each other!”, the internet cried. Assertions that the abuse was “mutual” seemed to be the way that people were justifying the situation. As I sat through Elmslie’s grueling video, where he repeatedly flashed the same five screenshots of her being mean to him, I was appalled at how quickly people clung on to this lie of mutual abuse. Henz not being the perfect submissive victim allowed Elmslie to paint her out as an abuser. Due to her seeming unlikable to the audience, it was easier for people to go along with this story. Later that week, Henz released a 750-page response detailing her experience with video evidence. Because he had effectively changed the minds of many, her claims were disregarded and the idea of “mutual abuse” was upheld.
It was a clear display of DARVO. Deny: He never once addresses the most disturbing part of the accusations— the clip where he screams about wanting to bash her head in with a brick. Attack: He twists her words and weaponizes her mental health against her. Lastly, he Reverses Victim and Offender: He frames himself as the victim and her as the aggressor.
During the Depp-Heard trial, the world didn’t witness a legal proceeding; it witnessed a circus. A horrifying reality was reduced to memes and mockery. Any condemnation of Depp was done under the guise of “mutual abuse,” despite the fact that experts have gone against the usage of this terminology. Yet people seem to believe that being a victim can only go one way which further diminishes the complexity that comes with being a victim. Engaging in horrid behavior while being in a toxic abusive situation does not make you any less of a victim. The myth of mutual abuse is to discredit victims. It’s a dangerous concept to allow people to buy into and simply cannot exist. In an abusive relationship, the playing field is never equal. Depp was double Heard’s age and double her fame and influence; the playing field was unstable from the start.
So, the question remains: are we, as a society, evolved enough to understand that mutual abuse isn’t real? That power and control don’t ever split evenly down the middle. A more accurate term would be reactive abuse, when a victim lashes out in response to prolonged harm. Abuse isn’t black and white; it cannot always be put neatly into boxes, and it doesn’t look the same in every situation. So why do we keep pretending it does?
Maybe one day, the world will understand that by clinging to the myth of mutual abuse, they’re playing directly into the perpetrator’s hands. Call me pessimistic, but I don’t see that day coming anytime soon.
I get your point, but “reactive abuse” doesn’t always fit. For example, those of us who grew up in homes where both parents have been abusive to each other, the abuse that was reactive initially became routine at some point. It’s not always helpful to draw clear lines in cases where the dynamics are messy and nonlinear, especially when no one leaves and family members are affected decades down the line.
I will take the word of experts over your anecdotal life experience that is not informed by research or data.