Not all legacies are good
I had a different blog post prepared for Sunday but it can wait, this can’t.
I want to talk about the evil legacy that perpetrators of domestic violence leave behind. In their victim’s lives, and quite often into the next generation too. And, the ways that an Estate Plan can help you protect your family in the future from financial abuse.
Last week in Brisbane a 31 year old woman, Hannah Clarke and her three children: Laianah (6), Aaliyah (4), and Trey (3) were murdered in the most violent and what must have been terrifying way, by their husband and father.
I can’t offer a well considered commentary on what is essentially a national crisis; I have never worked professionally in this area of law (or otherwise) and would never want to detract from the experts in this area. I plan to stay informed and support the best ideas that are put forward, or that resonate with me. Such as the “No-respect, No-relationship” program created by fellow lawyer, Janis Donnelly-Coode who provides education to schools in Western Sydney about healthy relationships. Or this statement by Michael Flood, the associate professor in the law faculty of QUT who said: “We must rewrite societal definitions of manhood, away from power and entitlement and towards compassion and nurturance”. And always the opinions of Rosie Batty, and Steve Biddulph, both of whom I admire enormously.
I simply want to add my voice to the total and complete rejection of domestic violence; especially against women and children by men. One woman is murdered every nine days by a current or former partner and it is completely unacceptable. So far, in 2020 there have been 8 such women killed, and several children.
Legacies: the Good and the Bad
In the area of Wills and Estates, we talk a lot about people “leaving a legacy”. I suppose what is intended in the context of my work is the idea is that if you work hard, save, and invest, that you will be able to leave a nest egg for your children. And that having an Estate Plan (that includes a Testamentary Trust) will mean that your nest egg is protected for your bloodline descendants to help them raise future generations, or give them an advantage through a well thought out intergenerational wealth transfer strategy. What does that all mean? It sounds like spin until you realise that the real-life application of this concept is that “protection” of that nest egg is usually intended to be against your children’s ex-partners (or your surviving partner’s new partner) after the breakdown of a relationship. One in six women since the age of 15 have experienced at least one incident of violence by a current or former partner. And how can you even measure the instances of social isolation, emotional and financial abuse that we know are part of domestic violence? The benefits of protecting your child’s inheritance where they may be, or end up a victim of domestic violence is two-fold: to make sure that your child’s partner does not share in the inheritance that was not intended for them, and to provide the financial security and freedom of choice for your child to leave that relationship if and when they decide. A golden ticket.
However, not all legacies are positive. Some legacies are evil and should not carry over from one generation to the next. Domestic violence is one such legacy, likely in many of our family history.
I asked my husband, Nick if he knew or suspected now, any of his friends or acquaintances who may be violent or controlling of their partner or toward their children. He did not. Similarly, I do not know of any of my friends or acquaintances who are victims. And yet, we know that statistically this cannot be correct. We know that domestic violence can be present in any home. And so, it stands that it must be amongst us but we simply don’t know.
Powerful conversations for change
Perhaps in order to encourage an eradication of violence, and an examination of masculinity we need to keep shining a spotlight on these matters, in between the worst examples that force us to examine it. So that no perpetrator, or victim can be in any doubt about the many and varied formed that abuse takes, and what it looks like. One thing that has struck me about Hannah’s story is that she had told her family that she didn’t identify his behaviour at one point in time as domestic violence because he hadn’t hit her.
One of the ways that we could start these conversations in our homes, workplaces, and amongst friends might be to ask each other: does your family have a history of what we would call domestic violence today? Many families would have an example from previous generations that perhaps wasn’t considered abuse at the time. Talking about domestic violence in our own little part of the community in this way may feel a little “safer” because the behaviour has likely now passed, perhaps even the perpetrators and victims have now died. It’s easier than examining ourselves, and our contemporaries. Maybe a conversation like this could be a signal that you are a safe person to talk to, or a gateway conversation to ask for help.
If you start a discussion in this way, please let me know what you learn. And well done in advance for shining the light in this small way.