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The Gendered Dynamics of Power in Disputes Over the Postseparation Care of Children
Vivienne Elizabeth, Nicola Gavey and Julia Tolmie Violence Against Women 2012 18: 459 originally published online 2 July 2012 DOI: 10.1177/1077801212452049 The online version of this article can be found at: http://vaw.sagepub.com/content/18/4/459

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iolence Against Women XX(X)Elizabeth et al. The Author(s) 2011 Reprints and permission: http://www. sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav Elizabeth et al.

VAWXXX10.1177/1077801212452049V

Article

The Gendered Dynamics of Power in Disputes Over the Postseparation Care of Children

Violence Against Women 18(4) 459481 The Author(s) 2012 Reprints and permission: sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav DOI: 10.1177/1077801212452049 http://vaw.sagepub.com

Vivienne Elizabeth1, Nicola Gavey1, and Julia Tolmie1

Abstract A dichotomized picture of postseparation parents has emerged in family law that juxtaposes violent relationships with those that are normal. Domestic violence scholars and advocates have played a role in reproducing this picture in their quest to secure protection for women and children. Although sympathetic, we argue this construction generates a number of problems: in particular, it obscures the gender power dynamics in relationships where women have not experienced violence. Interviews with separated mothers in dispute over contact arrangements reveal that there are significant continuities in the gender power dynamics they experience, despite differences in their exposure to male partner violence. Keywords child custody, gender, mothers, power, violence

Introduction
Custody disputes have become one of the most vexed areas of the so-called gender wars. In an attempt to diffuse this conflict, joint parenting has emerged as a powerful new ethos governing postseparation parenting arrangements across the Anglo-West1 (Fineman, 1988; Kaganas & Day Sclater, 2004; Neale & Smart, 1997; Smart, 1997, 2004; Smart & Neale, 1999a, 1999b; Wallbank, 1998, 2001, 2007). Joint parenting, in the form of joint legal custody, is founded on an assumption that both parents should continue to play a role in the childs upbringing postseparation. As joint legal custodians, mothers and fathers possess equal decision-making rights over their childrens lives and are held to be equally
1

University of Auckland, Auckland, Aotearoa/New Zealand

Corresponding Author: Vivienne Elizabeth, Sociology, University of Auckland, Private Bag 92019, Auckland, Aotearoa/ New Zealand Email: v.elizabeth@auckland.ac.nz

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responsible for meeting their childrens needs. While the laws establishing joint legal custody in Anglo-Western countries do not always specify a presumption of ongoing father contact, the expectation of ongoing father contact has nonetheless become normative (Boyd, 2003, 2004, 2006; Hunt with Roberts, 2004; Kaganas & Day Sclater, 2004; Neale & Smart, 1997; Smart, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999a, 1999b; Tolmie, Elizabeth, & Gavey, 2009, 2010; Wallbank, 1998, 2001, 2007). In addition, legislation governing the care of children following separation and/or divorce produces an expectation that parents will cooperate to reach an agreement on parenting arrangements that are in the best interests of their children. As Rhoades (2002, p. 72) argues, a significant corollary of this legislative framework has been the insertion into the cultural imaginary of joint parenting regimes that are invariably amicable. However, this conflict-free picture of joint parenting glosses over some very different realities. In particular, as a number of (mostly feminist) scholars have pointed out, contact provisions create an opportunity for fathers who have been violent to continue to harass and/or assault their ex-partners and children (Beeble, Bybee, & Sullivan, 2007; Davis, 2004; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Hester & Radford, 1996; Kaye, Stubbs, & Tolmie, 2003; Rhoades, 2002; Varcoe & Irwin, 2004; Wallbank, 2007; Wuest, FordGilboe, Merritt-Gray, & Lemire, 2006). In short, a history of violence militates against the possibility of cooperative and amicable relations between separated parents. Moreover, contact in circumstances where a father is or has been violent places at risk the physical, psychological and emotional safety of children and their mothers.2 In bringing this vastly different picture of joint parenting to light, domestic violence academics and advocates have implicitly and explicitly (re)produced family laws dichotomized picture of postseparation parenting in which relationships characterized by violent asymmetries are juxtaposed to relationships that are normal and supposedly egalitarian (Reece, 2006). Such a dichotomized construction of postseparation parents generates at least two problems. First, as Susan Boyd (2003; see also Reece, 2006) claims, it easily leads to an assumption that all of the care and contact issues that women face are a result of violence and abuse. And second, it implies that relationships where women have not experienced violence are free from gender power dynamics. In this article, we draw on interviews with separated mothers in dispute over care and contact arrangements to argue that there is a remarkable degree of similarity in the interactions they describe with the fathers of their children, despite differences in their exposure to male partner violence.3 Furthermore, we contend that the gender power dynamics that we document are supported and exacerbated by contemporary sociocultural discourses and the operation of the family law system, which, as Harrison (2008) argues, is a significant source of complicity, if not collusion. Our argument therefore contains two critiques. First, it challenges the postfeminist assumption embedded within family law that the vast majority of heterosexual relationships, including those between former partners, have been reconfigured along egalitarian lines. Second, it points to the role of the discourses and practices of family law in enabling and perpetuating gendered inequalities. This article elaborates on our contention that there are continuities in the way power is exercised in relation to both women who have experienced violence from their former

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partners as well as women who have not. We begin our work with an overview of the rise to prominence of the discourse of joint or shared parenting, before turning our attention to the criticisms made by domestic violence scholars about joint parenting regimes. At this point we draw on Catherine Ashcrafts (2000) work on the different ways interactional power is exercised in heterosexual relationships to pave the way for our own analysis of the gender power relations that characterize the lives of the women who participated in our study.

The Disputed Ground of Custody Regimes

Throughout the Anglo-West, including New Zealand where our research is located, disputes over postseparation childcare arrangements are supposed to be settled according to the principle of the best interests of the child. Yet recourse to this principle only begets the question, what is actually in the childs best interests? Over the last 10 to 20 years the answer has shifted toward a much greater emphasis on the beneficial effects of the ongoing involvement of the nonresidential parent (generally fathers), both socially and materially, in their childrens lives (Boyd, 2003, 2004, 2006; Chesler, 1991; Davis, 2004; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Hester & Radford, 1996; Kaganas & Day Sclater, 2004; Neale & Smart, 1997; Smart, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999a, 1999b; Standing, 1999; Varcoe & Irwin, 2004; Wuest et al., 2006; Wallbank, 2001, 2007). Indeed, as Kaganas and Day Sclater (2004) note in relation to the situation in England and Wales, [i]t would appear that the proposition that contact with a non-resident parent is generally in the childrens best interests has passed into the realms of incontestable truth (pp. 4-5). Partly as a consequence of this shift in understanding of what is in a childs best interests, a new ethos of postseparation parenting has emerged that is driven by a logic of durability (van Krieken, 2005, p. 35; see also Rhoades, 2002; Smart, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999a, 1999b; Wallbank, 2007). Hence, postseparation parenting is now conceptualized as a joint parenting project that requires parents to cooperate with each other and to engage in ongoing negotiations in the interests of their children (Rhoades, 2002; Wallbank, 2007). Joint parenting, however, can mean a number of quite different things. It can mean joint legal custody, or joint physical custody, or shared parenting. Shared parenting, in turn, can refer to a wide variety of arrangements in which children live at least some of the time with both parents, including but not limited to equal parenting time (Hunt & Roberts, 2004; see also Boyd, 2004; Wuest et al., 2006). By and large, it is joint legal custody that has been enshrined across the Anglo-West, except in Australia where legislative reforms in 2006 require Australian Family Courts to consider whether equal time with each parent is in the childs best interests (Tolmie et al., 2010). Joint legal custody assumes that, despite parental separation, both parents should continue to play a role in the childs upbringing. Moreover, given the equal legal status of both parents, each should enjoy equal decisionmaking rights over their childrens lives and should be held equally responsible for meeting their childrens needs. While joint legal custody does not prescribe a specific contact regime for nonresidential parents and their children, it is nevertheless associated with the current procontact culture

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and the rise to prominence of shared parenting. Indeed, Wallbank (2007) notes that it has become increasingly difficult to distinguish between generous contact provisions and shared care arrangements. Often heralded by fathers rights groups as the best solution to custody disputes (Flood, 2010), shared parenting involves children spending a significant, although not necessarily equal, amount of time in each of their parents homes. Nonetheless, Stenhouse (2007) argues it is important to retain a distinction between shared care (for example, a 25/75 split) and 50/50 care because the latter is qualitatively different from the former: children in 50/50 care lead two equivalent and parallel lives in a way which does not occur under the primary-plus-secondary caregiver model (p. 260). Children in 50/50 care arrangements have been described as shuttle-children who endlessly move themselves and their belongings between homes (McInnes, 2006). Notwithstanding the importance of this distinction, in this article we use joint parenting as an umbrella term that assumes joint legal custody and at least some level of shared physical parenting. Ostensibly gender neutral, joint parenting, as the new postseparation parenting ideal, has actually led to a gender-differentiated standard of postseparation parenting. The good postseparation father of today is supposed to provide financially for his children and to maintain a close and caring relation with them (Boyd, 2003, 2006; Collier, 2001; Kaganas & Day Sclater, 2004; Smart & Neale, 1999a, 1999b). However, as a number of authors have pointed out, these dual obligations are given different legal weight: while a fathers financial support is legally enforceable, at least theoretically, a fathers relationship with his children remains outside the realm of legal coercion (see Dowd, 2000; Fineman, 1988; Smart & Neale, 1999a; Wallbank, 2001, 2007). Although this might suggest that the ongoing provision of financial support is the key to good postseparation fathering, it is neither absolutely necessary nor sufficient. Increasingly, postseparation fathers who have minimal contact with their children face social and judicial disapproval (Collier, 2001). Furthermore, as fathers increase the amount of time they spend with their children, their child support obligations generally decrease. What this suggests is that the symbols of good postseparation fathering are in a state of flux. As father contact becomes increasingly valorized, the importance attached to financial support is diminishing. Finally, and significantly given our purpose, a proven history of violence4 does not usually overturn the designation of fathers seeking contact with their children as good enough (Collier, 2006; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Harrison, 2008; Kaspiew, 2007; Rhoades, 2002; Smart & Neale, 1999b; Wallbank, 1998, 2007). In contrast, the good postseparation mother is evaluated almost solely in terms of her willingness to support father contact (Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Harrison, 2008; Kaganas & Day Sclater, 2004; Kaspiew, 2007; Rhoades, 2002; Smart, 1991, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999b; Wallbank, 1998, 2007).5 Mothers, in high profile media cases as well as those in more everyday circumstances (Elizabeth, 2010; Tolmie et al., 2009), who resist the notion of joint parenting by failing to prioritize above all other considerations paternal contact provisions, are now viewed with considerable suspicion.6 Such mothers are often portrayed as motivated by malicious concernsfor example, revenge for an affairrather than legitimate concerns about a childs well-being (Boyd, 2003, 2004, 2006; Chesler, 1991; Coltrane & Hickman, 1992; Fineman, 1988; Kaspiew, 2007; Morris, 2005; Neustein &

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Lesher, 2005; Rhoades, 2002; Smart, 1989, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999a, 1999b; Wallbank, 1998, 2001, 2007). Even mothers who are seeking to protect their children from harm find themselves being increasingly defined in negative ways (Chesler, 1991; Davis, 2004; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Fineman, 1988; Harrison, 2008; Neustein & Lesher, 2005; Rhoades, 2002; Smart, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999b; Wallbank, 1998, 2001, 2007). Indeed, as Smart (1997, p. 317) intimates, joint parenting discourses are associated with the emergence of a new and vilified identity: the implacably hostile mother (see also, Boyd, 2003, 2004, 2006; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Harrison, 2008; Neale & Smart, 1997; Neustein & Lesher, 2005; Rhoades, 2002; Wallbank, 1998, 2001, 2007). The implacably hostile mother has been depicted as needing psychiatric help and counselling, and more recently she has been depicted as simply delinquent and in need of punishment (Smart & Neale, 1999b, p. 128). Not surprisingly, given the potential that discursive practices of joint parenting pose for circumscribing womens agency but not mens agency (Rhoades, 2002), joint parenting has been the subject of a number of criticisms.7 Such criticisms have been particularly well elaborated in relation to the plight produced by the current legal context for mothers who have left violent male partners (see, for example, Beeble et al., 2007; Davis, 2004; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Harrison, 2008; Hester & Radford, 1996; Kaye et al., 2003; Neustein & Lesher, 2005; Rhoades, 2002; Varcoe & Irwin, 2004; Wuest et al., 2006). As these writers reveal, provisions for father contact are increasingly being awarded and enforced in spite of claims about or, indeed, evidence of a fathers violence. In part this is the outcome of a sustained, but largely unfounded, attack by fathers rights groups on the credibility of accusations about paternal violence (Davis, 2004; see also Flood, 2010; Kaspiew, 2005; Maloney et al., 2007; Rhoades, 2002). Yet the reluctance of family courts to put limits on fathers contact also reflects a tendency within the custody arena to treat the harm brought about by a fathers absence as more significant than the harm brought about by a fathers mistreatment (Elizabeth, Gavey & Tolmie, 2010; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Harrison, 2008; Hester & Radford, 1996; Neustein & Lesher, 2005; Rhoades, 2002; Smart, 1997; Varcoe & Irwin, 2004). The upshot, according to these critics, is that contact is made available to fathers as a site through which they can continue to exert power and control over mothers and children with impunity (Varcoe & Irwin, 2004, p. 78; see also Beeble et al., 2007; Davis, 2004; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Harrison, 2008; Hester & Radford, 1996; Rhoades, 2002). Prompted by these observations, renewed calls have been made by advocates and academics for professionals working on family court matters to recognize the destructive realities of male violence (Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Hester & Radford, 1996; Harrison, 2008; Rhoades, 2002; Varcoe & Irwin, 2004; Wuest et al., 2006). Properly recognized, they argue, male violence would operate as a condition that limited the contact provisions granted to separated fathers. While critical attention to the issue of violence has been extremely important, especially for women and children in need of protection from male violence, an exclusive focus on violence has several unfortunate consequences. First, it runs the risk of reaffirming a dichotomous construction of heterosexual relationships, including postseparation parenting relationships. As we pointed out in the introduction, a dichotomized vantage point allows relationships to be divided into those that are supposedly normal, egalitarian, and

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cooperative, and those that are thought to be pathological, conflictual, and violent. Second, it does very little to disrupt the rules upon which care and contact decisions are made. As Rhoades (2002) points out, family courts continue to operate with a lingering assumption that families affected by domestic violence are rare (p. 82). When defined as a rarity, cases involving domestic violence can be treated as exceptions to a general rule. Of course, when domestic violence cases are treated as exceptions, the rules governing postseparation parenting do not need to be altered; we can continue to imagine that joint parenting regimes, involving considerable shared physical care, are largely amicable and generally in the best interests of children. Third, and most importantly for the argument we are making here, a dichotomous construction obscures the way nonviolent fathers are able to use a range tactics of interactional power to produce and sustain gender power relations (Boyd, 2003, p. 194). When the use of nonviolent forms of power is obscured, a number of other things are also obscured: first, womens experiences of inequality and subordination that have been produced through nonviolent means; second, and relatedly, similarities in the experiences of separated mothers with violent and nonviolent relationship histories; and third, the role of legal, social, and cultural institutions in actively supporting, even exacerbating, mens use of tactics of interactional power.

Deconstructing the Dichotomous Construction of Separated Parents

A claim to continuities in the experiences of separated mothers, despite differences in their relationship histories, might suggest that the definition of what counts as a violent relationship needs to be broadened. While some scholars and activists have promoted wide definitions of violence to this end, in our view this strategy suffers from a number of drawbacks that are worth briefly outlining. First, it can lead researchers to ride roughshod over the way their participants describe themselves and their relationships. Second, the retention of a dichotomous construction of postseparation parents that contrasts violent with ostensibly egalitarian relationships prevents the recognition of the problems associated with the normative dynamics of gendered power that operate in most heterosexual relationships (Ashcraft, 2000; Boyd, 2003). Third, by using a term like violence in a way that collapses distinctions between normative and transgressive operations of power, it is possible that not only are the kinds of difficulties and harms experienced by women in nonviolent relationships rendered less noteworthy, but also, ironically, that recognition of womens experiences of more violent and egregious exercises of power is itself diluted. To deconstruct this dichotomy and reveal the multiple ways power is exercised to produce relational inequalities across the disparate circumstances of separated parents we need, as Catherine Ashcraft (2000) argues, a broader range of terms that enables us to speak about forms of domestic inequality and injustice that fall short of brutal forms of male domination. To this end, Ashcraft proposes a matrix of relational inequality that is organized with reference to two continua: a continuum of activity and a continuum

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of visibility. As Ashcraft (2000) notes, a continuum of activity and passivity creates a conceptual space to envision ways in which partners control by performing actions as well as by not performing certain actions (p. 6, emphasis in the original). The continuum of in/ visibility, on the other hand, draws our attention to those actions or behaviors that are particularly difficult to label as exercises of power because they seem natural, inevitable, or simply the way things are (Ashcraft, 2000, p. 6). When taken together, the two continua are suggestive of four tactics for exercising relational power and generating relational inequality. These Ashcraft names as follows: domestic domination (visible and active), domestic distortion (invisible but active), domestic dodging (invisible and inactive), and domestic neglect (visible but inactive).8 Of particular relevance to our forthcoming analysis, domestic domination includes a raft of actions that have been widely recognized for their coercive properties: possessiveness, name calling, harassing phone calls or text messages, surveillance, threats of violence, and violence itself (Ashcraft, 2000, pp. 6-9). Unfortunately, Ashcraft does not situate these different tactics of interactional power in relation to the broader social context. Thus, Ashcraft fails to consider the way gender operates socially to produce a gender-differentiated pattern of access to interactional power. Following Cooper (1994, 1995), we suggest that what makes fathers exercises of power possible are ongoing gender differences in access to economic power, as well as a patriarchal sociolegal context, both of which advantage men, enabling men to exercise power in ways not similarly open to women (Cooper, 1995, p. 10; see also Boyd, 2003; Flood, 2004; Hunnicutt, 2009). To this we would add that exercises of power by fathers and mothers are often interpreted in quite different ways, such that mens ability to operate as powerful agents is often reinforced rather than circumscribed. As Cooper (1995) elaborates, Some exercises of power involve dominating women, that is using women specifically as a resource in the furtherance of mens own objectives. However, male dominance is wider than specific domination of women. It includes a gendered ability to exercise agency and achieve desired outcomes in ways not available to women, although women may not necessarily be subjugated or exploited in the process. While not all men choose to exploit this advantageto exercise poweran individuals abstention does not make the advantage disappear. Neither men nor women can simply opt out of genders organizing framework, although both can find ways of disrupting or transforming it. (p. 10) When applied to the context of postseparation parenting, Coopers ideas point to the need to recognize the way fathers are socially advantaged with respect to the use of tactics of domestic power by, for example, gendered discourses of parenting that overvalue mens contributions of care and domestic labor while undervaluing womens; the ideological construction within family law of fathers as pivotal to a childs well-being and mothers as frequently obstructive and hostile; as well as mens generally superior financial resources.

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Continuities in the Experiences of Postseparation Mothering

Our claim that there are continuities in womens experiences of postseparation mothering despite differences in their relationship histories of violence is based on accounts provided to us in a small in-depth study with separated mothers in dispute over care and contact arrangements for their children.9 Between late 2006 and early 2008 we carried out indepth, semistructured interviews with 21 women living in the upper North Island of New Zealand. The interviews invited women to narrate their experiences of difficulties with care and contact arrangements, particularly, although not exclusively, in relation to legal or quasilegal processes.10 Most of the interviews lasted two hours, with some lasting three or more hours. All of the interviews were recorded and transcribed in full. To protect the identities of our participants we have used pseudonyms and changed other potentially identifying features in their stories.11 The majority of participants joined the study following the publication of a story on our project in suburban newspapers; several others were recruited through snowballing. The women ranged in age from their late-20s to mid-50s. Two were Mori12 (Hine and Marama), 14 were Pkeh13 (Briar, Bronwyn, Claire, Debra, Elaine, Gina, Isabella, Jade, Kate, Louise, Natalie, Petra, Suzie, and Trish), and five were migrants from other western countries (Abby, Moira, Ruth, Sarah, and Vicki). Just about half of the group were either in receipt of the Domestic Purposes Benefit14 or on a low income, another seven were earning moderate incomes, while a few were in high-income employment. The women had been separated from the fathers of their children for 1 to 12 years, and their children ranged in age from 15 months to 14 years. Although not actively seeking women who had been exposed to male partner violence, this was the experience of just under half of the women in the study (Claire, Debra, Elaine, Gina, Hine, Isabella, Jade, Moira, and Suzie). In determining whether or not women had violent relationship histories, we have privileged womens own descriptions of their relationships. In general, womens descriptions of their relationships were based on the presence or absence of bodily assaults. Thus, women who had experienced physical or sexual assaults described their relationships as violent, while those who had not experienced physical assaults by and large did not define their relationships as violent. There were two exceptions to this: Two women (Claire and Elaine) described their relationships as violent because their former partners were psychologically violent and each had been threatened with a gun on at least one occasion, although neither ever experienced a physical or sexual assault. Of those who described their relationships as violent, only three had obtained protection orders15 (Elaine, Hine, and Suzie); another (Isabella) had received an undertaking16 from her former partner. The other six women survived the violence without recourse to the police, the justice system, or their doctors. Some of the women with nonviolent relationships nevertheless described former partners who were controlling figures that limited their access to money and/or friends (Louise, Ruth, Sarah, and Trish). Still other participants (Briar, Kate, Marama, and Natalie) referred to the bad tempers of their former partners. However, in only three cases (Moira, Claire, and Hine) did the Family Court system treat the violence and/or control experienced by the women in our study as a significant

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safety issue that needed to be factored into care and contact arrangements. In Moiras case, the Courts recognition was largely the result of the fathers admission of violence. In the cases of Claire and Hine, the Courts recognition was largely a consequence of the women having obtained Protection Orders. Court recognition of a history of violence was seldom forthcoming in cases where women sought, in the absence of a Protection Order and/or an admission by the fathers concerned, an alteration to the care arrangements for their children on the basis of mens violence. Indeed, several other women (Debra, Elaine, Isabella, and Jade) struggled against the minimization of their experiences of violence by various Family Court personnel. For example, Debra spoke about a Family Court mediator who rejected the idea that the father of her child had been violent and instead labeled him as rude, even though he had physically assaulted Debra during their relationship and continued to verbally harass her on a regular basis after their separation. Similarly, the problems Isabella encountered with her former husband were seen by a number of professionals within the family law system as symptomatic of relationship dysfunction, rather than as symptomatic of his willingness to resort to violence.17 Problematic as these failures of recognition are, we contend that they are connected to a wider failure within the family law system to recognize the way power is able to be exercised by fathers more generally (see also Boyd, 2003). As we have already suggested, the distinction between violent and nonviolent relationships is an oversimplification that renders invisible nonviolent means of exercising power to establish relationships of domestic inequality. To deconstruct the dichotomous construction of postseparation parents, we use Ashcrafts (2000) lexicon to reveal patterns of continuity in mothers experiences of tactics of power. We concentrate our discussion on examples of domestic domination because of its prevalence within the accounts provided by our participants, irrespective of their relationship histories. Dominating power. All of the womens accounts were peppered with descriptions of their partners use of tactics of dominance. In other words, the women were not describing oneoff deployments of dominating tactics that they thought were uncharacteristic of their former partners. Rather, they described numerous examples that arose from and reproduced a relation of inequality. These ranged from pressure to terminate pregnancies, to fathers acting as if it was reasonable to see children whenever it suited them irrespective of the mothers plans and commitments, and insisting that mothers pick up and drop off children at times and points that were convenient for fathers but not mothers. As might be expected, the tactics of domination used against women with violent ex-partners tended to be far more overtly coercive, and in some instances brutal. For most of these women (Debra, Claire, Elaine, Gina, Hine, Jade, Moira, and Suzie), experiences of violent domination served as the impetus for them to leave their relationships. Yet, as is common with relationships marked by male violence, separation did not bring an end to the exercise of coercive power by their former partners. For example, one woman (Debra) recounted how her partner, in the aftermath of their separation, repeatedly threatened to burn her house down and routinely destroyed photographs of her while he was in her house spending time with their son. Another woman (Isabella) described her former husband repeatedly breaking into her house and leaving threatening notes, while several other

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women (Claire, Gina, Hine, and Jade) spoke about being stalked by their partners following their separation. For some of the women with violent former partners, times of dropping off and picking up children were particularly vexing as their former partners often used these occasions to be verbally and, in some instances, physically aggressive: Debra: . . . I said goodbye to [Child] and left. And [Child] hated it, he hated, he hated being left. And [Father] let him run down the driveway crying goodbye, goodbye and dont go mummy. And then I stopped the car, because it was really an alarming and stressful situation, got out of the car and gave [Child] a hug. And [Father] came up and went, You didnt even say goodbye to him, which I had, of course, said goodbye. And then I remember [Father] taking him from me with him sobbing and being really distraught and saying, Come on. I cant remember what he said, something like Oh lets go and leave her to it or something. I cant even remember, a horrible thing. And [Father] being really kind of ineffective in taking [Child] through this really traumatic separation. . . . [Since then] almost every change over has had something, some dig, something rude, some nasty comment, something inappropriate, like discussing things that are going on that he shouldnt be in front of [Child] or haranguing me or yeah, not pleasant. And I asked [in mediation] for no contact in changeovers. I asked for [Child] to be picked up and dropped off at school. But it is unable to be accommodated. (Violent history, Pkeh, 40s, 1 child 5-10yrs, 60:40 care) One of the interesting features about this particular anecdote is that it demonstrates the co-occurrence of two tactics of power: Debras former partner is not only verbally aggressive toward her (domination), which exacerbates the level of his childs distress, but he also fails to take care of his childs emotional needs (neglect). What is also clear from Debras account is that these are highly unpleasant exchanges, both for her and the child, which she would like to avoid. Yet, as she hints here, her attempts to alter the arrangement for pick-ups and drop-offs have been thwarted by the therapeutic and legal professionals she has encountered during Family Court counseling and mediation sessions. Importantly, the capacity of Debras former partner to exercise dominating power was enabled by several features of the surrounding social context. Most notably the professionals who, in refusing to validate and support her request, facilitated his ongoing verbal attacks; and, in addition, the existence of a misogynistic discursive environment that makes terms of female denigration available and, to some extent, acceptable. Intimidating encounters with the fathers of their children during times of changeover and other such occasions were not unique to women with violent ex-partners, however. Some of the women with nonviolent ex-partners (Kate, Louise, Natalie, Ruth, Trish, and Vicki) also spoke about the fear they experienced in relation to such interactions, as the following quote makes clear:

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Ruth: I try and minimize my contact with him as much as I can (mm) because its very unpleasant, its most often than not intimidating . . . [8 lines later] . . . Because its still unfortunately a little bit of contact time where we have to dropoff and pick-up so if he picks them up on Saturday more often than not I make sure that a friend is here and if I have to pick them up from him on Friday a friend of mine, a neighbor goes and picks them up for me. Interviewer: And this is because? Ruth: I just am too scared that he will lash out at me, that he will seek an opportunity, but I think he knows that if he does it will be very much against him. Interviewer: Mm, but he has done that in the past? Ruth: Oh yes and . . . Interviewer: And over the phone? Ruth: Oh and over the phone and, for instance, when he said that he needed the clothes I said, Well, Ill get them ready and Ill drop them and Ill be at the friends place. You can pick them up from there. And I chose to go there because its a neutral place. And so then I ring from my friends place and say, You can come and pick them up now. And he says, No, you drop them off at my place. Im not going out of my house anymore today. So I said, Okay, Ill drop them off. And Im thinking, Ill go and put them on the porch and Ill run away so that the girls dont see me as well. And it just so happened that friends of his that live across the road, they just happened to stop by me to say hello. And I said, Are you driving to [Fathers] place? And they said, No, but if you like we can. And I said, Well actually if you dont mind, would you drop off a bag of clothes at his place? So five minutes later after theyve done it I receive a text to say, Your cowardice has no boundaries, something like that. And its not me being a coward; I think Im the most guts-full person there is. Im trying to avoid conflict and trying to avoid uncomfortable feelings, okay. (Nonviolent history, migrant, 30s, two children 5-10yrs, 50:50 care) What Ruth also points to in the latter part of this quote is the part played by communication technologies in extending the possibilities for exercising coercive power (see Hand, Chung, & Peters, 2009). Indeed, women with violent and nonviolent ex-partners spoke about the use of emails, telephone calls, and text messaging by former partners to abuse and harass them. For instance, Kate: . . . that was probably one of the lowest points, living by myself with a small child and having the pair of them [former husband and his girlfriend] getting on the phone and just you know abusive and, and you couldnt, you couldnt do anything, you know. . . [3 lines later] . . . And Ive spoken to lots of other women in the same situation, you couldnt go to the Police, you know. You couldnt actually

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get protection from this situation. I couldnt protect myself and I couldnt protect my child. You know, from what was abuse, emotional, verbal, and it was a really, really awful time. (Nonviolent history, Pkeh, early 40s, child 8-10yrs, 70:30 care) Kates reflections raise several issues worthy of comment. First, her reference to abusive telephone calls might suggest the need to reconsider the classification of her former partner as nonviolent. Certainly, this is an approach that some of our readers might want to take. However, to reclassify her relationship history as one characterized by violence would involve an imposition of meaning, since Kate explicitly disavowed this interpretation, referring instead to her former partner as someone who had a violent temper, a person who had some major psychological issues, and someone with whom she had had some very uncomfortable arguments. Rather than reclassifying Kates relationship history, then, we join with Ashcraft (2000) in preferring to view her relationship as one that is characterized by normative dynamics of gendered power, dynamics that attest to the continuities that exist between violent and nonviolent relationships. Furthermore, as Kates comments indicate, her former partners exercise of gendered power caused her a great deal of distress and left her feeling vulnerable. In other words, the harm inflicted by his oppressive behavior deserves to be taken seriously. This brings us to our second point: The maintenance of the relationship of inequality between Kate and her former partner is attributable, at least in part, to the failure of significant social actors to provide a mechanism of redress. Thus, Kate is simultaneously required to have an ongoing relationship with her former partner and yet kept vulnerable to his abusive telephone calls through the failure of both the criminal justice and family law systems to delegitimize his actions. Although all of the examples of coercive power discussed thus far adversely affected the lives of mothers in our study, they pale in comparison to the anxiety and dismay produced when violent and nonviolent fathers used tactics of coercive power in relation to the arrangements that were most crucial for their children, namely, care and contact arrangements, as well as child support payments. Many of the women in our study detailed a variety of ways in which their former partners mobilized tactics of domination to challenge and, in some cases, force a change in care and contact arrangements. Before discussing some of the tactics of power deployed by fathers in this arena, it is important to note that the mothers in our study generally voiced support for their childrens relationship with their fathers, even violent fathers. However, mothers support for this relationship sat alongside concerns about the implications of various care and contact arrangements for their childrens well-being. Put succinctly, the mothers in this study typically possessed a holistic picture of their childs well-being that incorporated a relationship with their father, but did not privilege that relationship over other significant needs in their childs lives (Elizabeth et al., 2010). Irrespective of their relationship histories, the majority of mothers indicated that threats to reduce the amount of time they spent caring for their children was a key tactic of coercive power used by their former partners. For instance, in the quote below Marama

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describes her former partners threat to leave her with even less time with their son should she legally contest their current care and contact arrangements: Interviewer: Did you ever consider like involving a lawyer or going through a formal process? Marama: No, because [Father] whenever we started screaming he would say the custody thing. Interviewer: He would say what? Marama: That hed, go on take me to court then. And to me lawyers cost money. Interviewer: Hed basically say, Ill get 50/50 anyway so . . . Marama: Yeah. Interviewer: Take me to court (yeah) and youll end up with . . . Marama: Take me to court and then he even said once, You know, my father, my parents will, youre going to lose, Ill always win, Pkehs always win, thats what he said. (Nonviolent history, Mori, 30s, child < 5, 60:40 care) For Marama (and most of our other participants) gender differences in economic power put her at a disadvantage when it came to access to legal representation. However, in Maramas case differences in financial resources are not the only differences that produce and sustain inequality. According to Marama, her former partner mobilized racial power to remind her that she is doubly disadvantaged. Within the ethno-racial structure of New Zealand, Marama, as a Mori woman, is marked out as the other and is therefore particularly vulnerable to pejorative judgments within institutions, like the Family Court, that are dominated by Pkeh New Zealanders. As Marama indicates, the power her former partner derived from gender and ethno-racial structures was sufficient to subdue her will to challenge their care and contact arrangements. Fear of the outcome of legal battles was not restricted to women who were marked out as racially different. In the following quote, Louise (a Pkeh woman in her late 30s) also speaks about the fear generated by a judicial system that fails to address bullying behaviors and increasingly accedes to fathers demands: Louise: I really felt bullied, psychologically bullied by . . . And the crazy thing about it is if you were being bullied in the school your remedy is presumably to go to authority, you go to a teacher or principal. Well, when it happens in the Family Court youre being told that a judge, [the person] in authority, are people you should be afraid of. Youre going to be avoiding that at all costs, thats the message that comes through (mm) and where does that leave you as a bullied victim (yeah). . . . Apparently, the unpredictable nature of what the judge will do is meant to frighten you and count against you and then as a non-working woman in the marriage the sheer cost of it is against you. (Nonviolent history, Pkeh, 30s, child>10, 50:50 care)

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Many mothers in our study, faced with threats of loss of time with their children, found to their dismay that fathers threats were not idle. Mobilizing their greater economic (and sometimes social) resources, many mothers spoke about fathers who aggressively pursued changes to care and contact arrangements through the Family Court system. As a consequence, many mothers (for instance, Briar, Bronwyn, Debra, Gina, Hine, Isabella, Jade, Kate, Louise, Suzie, Trish, and Vicki), were either about to participate, actually participating, or recovering from their participation in various aspects of the Family Court system, be it counseling, mediation, or a court hearing. In the quote below, Hine (a woman with a violent relationship history) describes the constancy with which the father of her son activated court processes and the difficulty she faced, because there were no court-imposed restrictions on him, in meeting her legal expenses and retaining her capacity to keep fighting to protect their young son: Hine: . . . they said I was lucky to get continued supervised visits (right). So for three months [Father] had to have supervised visits. He was going for all of it, he was going for unsupervised, shared parenting, and he had money burning like anyones business. And my lawyer just couldnt keep up (mm) . . . like I dont have enough in my kitty [budget] to contend with any of that. . . . And I got called into another mediation meeting . . . So yeah he wasnt happy about that Protection Order, it was like no, no, no. Interviewer: So what was the mediation for? Hine: He always goes for unsupervised (right) . . . Yeah, so I said to my lawyer, Can he do this? And he said, Yeah, anytime he wants. If he wants to vary the order, he has every right to (mm). Okay, I said, Cant we say every six months or every year? Its like three times a year and its just like I end up having to give in and just when Im kind of getting used to our routine it changes it again (mm). So his thing is I think from him, yeah, wear me down (mm), theyre all trying to wear me down. (Violent history, 30s, Mori, child < 5, supervised access) While experiences of harassment by fathers through court processes were more common among mothers with violent relationship histories (see Beeble et al., 2007; Boyd, 2003; Morris, 2005; Varcoe & Irwin, 2004), it was not unique to them by any means, as the excerpt from Kate makes clear: Kate: And the thought of Oh my God, theres still another eight years ahead of us . . . You know, its just going to be regurgitated every couple of years. And its almost like even when its 50/50 its not going to go away. You know, like . . . Interviewer: Do you think thats what hes aiming for? Kate: Yeah, hes aiming for the 50/50. But I dont think that that will be the end of it. Interviewer: So what would be the end?

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Kate: I dont know. Its just the way its gone. I dont, you know because we go to the court case, and now well be going to the Administrative Review, you know, itll be another court case and then something else will happen. And, yeah, the only thing I can see ending it all is 18. Participation within Family Court processes often made mothers available as targets for their former partners tactics of dominance and distortion. According to many of the women in our study, fathers simply used these forums to distort past events and interactions, while intimidating not only mothers, but sometimes various court-related personnel as well. Again, mens use of the Family Court system to enable and support tactics of distortion and domination was not restricted to those with violent relationship histories. The following example is derived from a mother who did not end up in a relationship with the father of her child and thus had neither a violent nor nonviolent relationship history. Initially, Terry (the father) reacted to news of Bronwyns pregnancy by threatening to ruin her sexual reputation and her capacity to find employment if Bronwyn let it be known that he was the father. Terry only developed a connection to their daughter at the repeated behest of Bronwyn when their daughter was a toddler. Several years before the court interaction described below, Bronwyn relates that her daughter had returned from her fathers home frightened by his excessive and violent punishment of her older brother and herself. Weighing up how to deal with the situation, Bronwyn decided against confronting her daughters father for fear that it would cause a backlash against her daughter and also decided against going to the Police because that seemed pretty extreme. Instead, Bronwyn opted to record the episode in her diary. As you will see, this incident served as the fulcrum around which the father used the process of cross-examination in the Family Court to try to reconstruct the meaning of this particular episode: Bronwyn: Yeah he [Father] cross-examined me for like nearly four hours (Interviewer: During the court?) during the court hearing and I dont think that should have been allowed because thats really intimidating. Interviewer: About what sorts of things? Bronwyn: Oh, he talked about everything, harassed me endlessly about why didnt I call the Police if [Daughter] had been beaten by a pole, and Im a bad mother because I allow her to be in a situation like that, and obviously it wasnt true because I didnt call the Police. And he went through all this endless questioning about all sorts of things like that trying to make me look as though I made it all up. Interviewer: And the judge allowed him to do all of that? Bronwyn: Yeah, pulled him up when I, because he asked me quite a few times, he repeated his questions and even though Id answered the question hed ask it again and again and the judge stopped him from doing that, but um yeah it was pretty harrowing. (Pkeh, early 30s, child >10, 70:30 care)

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This example serves to aptly illustrate the way tactics of distortion and domination can be deployed in concert with each other to undermine mothers by simultaneously eroding the veracity of their word and their stamina to continue fighting for what they think is in their childs best interests. According to the account provided by Bronwyn, the fathers reconstruction of this episode works at the level of obviousness: if the behavior in question was serious, then surely Bronwyn would have said something at the time, and if she did not say something at the time, then it cannot have been serious. In this reconstruction Bronwyn is damned either way: if it is true, then she is a bad mother because she failed to protect her daughter from further harm, and if it is not true, then she is a bad mother because she is hostile to Terrys relationship with their daughter. Bronwyns anecdote also points to the way that Terrys use of tactics of domination and distortion was institutionally and culturally enabled. Of particular importance in this regard are court procedures that entitle the father to cross-examine Bronwyn, but do not place limitations on the duration, content, or manner of that cross-examination. Added to this is the judges role; by not using the authority invested in him/her to constrain the fathers behavior, the judge effectively granted the father permission to interrogate Bronwyn. Culturally, the cross-examination described by Bronwyn was made possible by gendered discourses on parenting that not only hold mothers accountable for a broader range of parenting duties (including the protection of children from harm and the facilitation of child father relationships), but that also condemn mothers more readily than fathers for perceived parenting failures, failures that have been extended recently to include a mothers failure to actively support a fathers relationship with his children (Boyd, 2003, 2004, 2006; Erikkson & Hester, 2001; Harrison, 2008; Neale & Smart, 1997; Rhoades, 2002; Smart, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999a; Wallbank, 1998, 2001, 2007). As the work of Boyd (2003) and Smart (1995, 1996) show, these gendered discourses have occupied a powerful place within legal history, producing and regulating maternal subjects.

Conclusion
By focusing on the continuities in the experiences of domestic dominance across the lives of separated mothers who had experienced violence in their relationship and those who had not, we have sought to deconstruct the opposition between pathological and egalitarian parental relationships that underpins contemporary family law across the Anglo-West. Although there are clear differences in the experiences of women who participated in this study in terms of their exposure to specific tactics of domestic power, and in terms of the degree to which their relationships were unequal, we have argued that it is a mistake to ignore the gender power dynamics at play in the lives of all separated mothers despite their disparate circumstances. Irrespective of their relationship histories, the women in our study spoke at some length about the difficulties that arose for them and their children as a consequence of their former partners use of interactional forms of power. Indeed, as Boyd (2003) states, it is the ongoing presence of gender power dynamics within the relationships of separated parents that causes the the bulk of custody and access problems for women (p. 194).

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As our work here has shown, the exercise of interactional power by fatherswhether this is domination, distortion, dodging or neglectis both enabled and supported by our legal, social, and cultural institutions. One of the consequences of this is that womens experiences of interactional power are rendered invisible and unspeakable. We have therefore been at pains throughout this article to point out that mens use of interactional forms of power are an outcome of older, well-established gender inequitiessuch as economic powerin combination with newer gender inequitiesfor example, the development within contemporary family law of a philosophy of father contact at [almost] any cost (Harrison, 2008, p. 398; see also Boyd, 2003; Eriksson & Hester, 2001; Kaganas & Day Sclater, 2004; Rhoades, 2002; Smart, 1997; Smart & Neale, 1999b; Wallbank, 1998, 2001, 2007). To create equitable and fair treatment for separated parents clearly requires major reform within the family law system and beyond. Of necessity this will require family law professionals to take seriously those forms of gendered power and inequality mapped out herein. A significant way counselors, mediators, lawyers, and judges might fulfill this agenda is through the integration into their everyday practices of the insight that gender power dynamics continue to be built into normal as well as violent heterosexual relationships. In taking this insight on board, family law professionals will want to engage in a full and thorough investigation of the gender power dynamics that are operative between separated parents. As the analysis in this article demonstrates, such an investigation must go beyond a simple question about violence, not only because of the likelihood that women and men will, for vastly different reasons, refrain from openly speaking about violence, but also because physical force is just one of a number of tactics that can be deployed to establish and maintain unequal gender power relations. Our analysis provides family law professionals with a template for exploring past and present uses of a variety of tactics of power, and making sense of the use of these tactics in terms of how they contribute to an overall dynamic of power that subordinates mothers and diminishes their capacity to care for their children. Undoubtedly, such thorough investigations by family law professionals would pave the way for several other important changes to occur. First, it is highly likely that the problematic behaviors we have discussedthe aggressive bullying behaviors associated with domestic domination, the abandoning behaviors associated with neglect and dodging, and the misogynistic, mother-blaming behaviors associated with domestic distortionwould become increasingly delegitimized. In practical terms, delegitimization would require the creation of mechanisms of redress for abusive forms of communication (including those that transpire through electronic means) and the limitation of vexatious proceedings, among other things. Second, it is probable that family law professionals would become increasingly aware of the way their interventions with separated parents can operate, either explicitly or implicitly, to lend support to fathers attempts to exercise power over mothers, and to undermine mothers attempts to protect and enhance their childrens well-being. Changes of this nature, underpinned as they are by the recognition that gender power dynamics continue to shape heterosexual relationships, lie at the heart of a fairer family law system, a system that recognizes that justice for gendered actors cannot be achieved through wishful thinking alone.

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Authors Note
First and foremost, the authors are grateful to the women who chose to share often painful stories about personal aspects of their lives with them. Without their willingness to share their stories, their work as researchers would not have been possible. They are also grateful for the research assistance provided by Pamela Nelson in the preparation of this article. In addition, the authors wish to thank the anonymous Violence Against Women referees for their helpful comments on earlier versions of this article.

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.

Funding
The authors disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: This research was funded by a grant from the University of Auckland Research Committee.

Notes
1. A term referring to Australia, Canada, England and Wales, Ireland, Scotland, New Zealand, and the United States of America. 2. Unfortunately, it is not unknown for fathers with a history of violence to kill their children in the aftermath of separation. Such was the case in New Zealand in 1994 when Alan Bristol killed his three children and then himself. This case precipitated the introduction of New Zealands Domestic Violence Act 1995 and the Guardianship Amendment Act 1995. Both pieces of legislation offered enhanced legal protections from male violence for women and children. Notwithstanding this, Robertson et al. (2007) document the ongoing lack of safety and protection experienced by New Zealand women and children in relation to male partner violence. It is a lack that resulted in the deaths of 212 women and children from male partner violence during the period 1995-2007. 3. In this article, our determination of whether or not the women in our study had been exposed to male partner violence was largely guided by womens own descriptions of their relationship histories. We came to this decision because of the difficulties that arise when researchers and others define womens relationships as ones of violence in contradiction to womens own interpretations of their relationships. This is not to say, however, that womens interpretations of their experiences are unproblematic; a womans denial of a history of male partner violence cannot be taken at face value. Women continue to face a number of complex constraints when it comes to labeling former partners and the fathers of their children as violent, not the least that such labeling is self-referential. Furthermore, we acknowledge that the boundary between violent and nonviolent relationships is both blurry and contested. Indeed, part of our purpose in this article is to uphold the blurry nature of this distinction by pointing to the variety of ways gendered power is exercised to produce relations of domination and subordination.

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4. The exception to this is proven extreme violence (Kaspiew, 2000). Other problems that might have prompted mothers to separate from the fathers of their childrendrug and alcohol abuse, mental health issues, viewing pornographyalso appear not to be a barrier to good enough fathering (Wallbank, 1998, 2007). 5. This notion is reflected in what is often referred to as the friendly parent rule, a rule that elevates willingness to support the other parents relationship with a child or children to such importance that it can play a determining role in judgments over care and contact arrangements (see Wallbank, 2001). 6. While joint parenting has become a, if not the, dominant discourse within the family law arena, shifts in favor of this model within the wider community have not been so dramatic, as least in the New Zealand context. The alternative primary/secondary caregiver model of postseparation parenting continues to enjoy widespread recognition and cultural support. Indeed, the practice of shared parenting transgresses strongly held sociocultural values across the Anglo-West that still attach incredible importance to mothers as the primary caregivers of their children. 7. Rhoades (2002; see also Wallbank, 2007) points to the existence of a double standard whereby the rules associated with contact coerce mothers into maintaining a relationship with former partners but do not similarly coerce fathers; fathers continue to breach contact provisions with impunity. As a result, mothers and fathers experience what might be called an autonomy differential (Rhoades, 2002, p. 80). 8. To elaborate on this schema, domestic domination includes a raft of actions that have been widely recognized for their coercive properties: possessiveness, name calling, harassing phone calls or text messages, surveillance, threats of violence, and violence itself (Ashcraft, 2000, pp. 6-9). Domestic distortion refers to the exercise of power through meaning-making processes that reframe or reinterpret domestic inequalities in more favorable terms or that minimize or invalidate complaints about an unequal state of affairs (Ashcraft, 2000, pp. 7-8). In domestic dodging power is exercised through behaviors like forgetting, inattentiveness, ineptness or the prioritization of other activities, which results in one partner having to consistently assume full responsibility for important matters (Ashcraft, 2000, p. 7). Finally, domestic neglect consists of those tactics of power that involve an evasion of duties or responsibilities that the evading partner can alone undertake or fulfill (Ashcraft, 2000, p. 8). 9. Given that our research is based on interviews with mothers in dispute over care and contact arrangements, we have not been able to explore the gender power dynamics at work between mothers and fathers who have amicably established care and contact arrangements for their children, including what effect, if any, assumptions about maternal care might have on fathers. However, Carol Lacroixs (2006) research makes it clear that gendered inequalitiesin caring responsibilities, financial well-being and negotiating power persist between separated mothers and fathers even when they have amicably established a 50:50 shared care arrangement and both parents voice satisfaction with those arrangements. According to Lacroix, a major reason for the persistence of these inequalities is the taken-for-granted nature of mother-care, in a context where fathers are increasingly defined as central to the well-being of children but father-care remains optional. Furthermore,

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10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

16.

17.

contrary to the commonly held notion that mothers minimize the caring contributions made by fathers, mothers and fathers in Lacroixs study amplified the significance of fathers caring work, at the same time as they minimized the significance of work mothers performed. As a consequence, an economy of gratitude was established, whereby mothers felt grateful for fathers ongoing participation in the lives of their children, while fathers simply took the role mothers played in the lives of their children for granted. Given the importance of these issues, there is clear scope for further research. The major quasilegal process women spoke about was Family Court-sponsored counseling with the fathers of their children. To further protect participants anonymity we have used different pseudonyms for the same participant in separate papers arising from this research. Mori are the indigenous peoples of New Zealand. Pkeh is the Mori word used to describe the White settler population in New Zealand, the majority of whom are of Anglo-Celtic descent. The Domestic Purposes Benefit is a state-funded welfare payment in support of single parents and other people involved in the care of a qualifying dependent. Protection Orders are governed by the provisions of New Zealands Domestic Violence Act 1995 and forbid respondents (typically, men) from being violent toward protected persons (usually, women and children). Often entered into during applications for Protection Orders, an undertaking is simply a promise made by a respondent to abstain from named behaviors (e.g., violence and/or alcohol consumption) before a Judge in the Family Court. Undertakings have no status outside of that arena. During the relationship, Isabellas former husband (who is 62 tall while she is only 52 and 101 lbs.) was psychologically abusive on a regular basis. On one occasion he savagely assaulted her, threatened to assault and obtain custody of their infant son, while all the time forcing their baby to watch. Isabella continued with the relationship because she believed this was the best strategy for ensuring her sons safety. Although the marriage ended when Isabellas husband left for another relationship, he continued to stalk her, phoning her anonymously and breaking into her house. He was also at worst harmful and at best neglectful of their son, returning him from contact visits with diapers on that were for a 3-month-old even though the child was 12 months, tying his pants so tight that there were red welts on his stomach, tying his shoe laces so tight that his toes turned blue, and with a black bruise that lasted a month. In addition, he told their son that if he did not go with him for contact visits the Police would take Isabella away.

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Bios
Vivienne Elizabeth is a senior lecturer in the Sociology Department at the University of Auckland. Her academic background is interdisciplinary. She has worked at the intersections of sociology, womens studies, and cultural studies. Her research largely focuses on gender, identity, and power relations in familial settings. Vivienne has previously published on heterosexual couples, violence against women, and, more recently, on custody disputes. Nicola Gavey is an associate professor of psychology at the University of Auckland. Her research is broadly concerned with the intersections of gender, power, and sexuality, with particular interest in rape and sexual coercion. Her 2005 book, Just Sex? The Cultural Scaffolding of Rape, won the 2006 Distinguished Publication Award from the Association of Women in Psychology. Julia Tolmie is an associate professor and has lectured in the Faculty of Law at Sydney University for 10 years prior to taking a position with the Law Faculty at the University of Auckland in 1999. She has published widely on issues in criminal law and family law; presented conference papers in Holland, Canada, South Africa, the USA, Australia, and England; and has spent brief periods of time as a visiting scholar at the University of Ottawa, Golden Gate University, and University of California, Berkley.