Libraries and Democracy:
What we can learn about Democracy from the “Power and Control Wheel”
Stories like these are becoming much more common:
To the Board of My Local Library:
Early in my career, I worked at Local Social Service Agency (LSSA), a suburban social service agency dedicated to safety and empowerment, with the goal of “help[ing] victims of domestic violence escape abuse and rebuild their lives.” While working at LSSA I learned about the “power and control wheel,” which is a visual representation of how abuse functions. In the words of the National Domestic Violence Hotline, “the wheel serves as a diagram of tactics that an abusive partner uses to keep their victims in a relationship. The inside of the wheel is made up of subtle, continual behaviors over time, while the outer ring represents physical and sexual violence. Abusive actions like those depicted in the outer ring often reinforce the regular use of other, more subtle methods found in the inner ring.”
I now know that while we tend to think of physical violence first and foremost when we think of domestic violence–and the bruises and scars that result–the reality is threats of violence, emotional abuse, and financial abuse are far more persistent and present in victims’ day-to-day life. Physical violence is used–intentionally, strategically–randomly, and sparingly, so as to create an environment where the threat of violence functions to effectively control their partner’s behavior. We–humans, all of us, but in this case, we are speaking of victims and survivors of domestic violence–change our behaviors in the face of (potential) violence as a measure of self-protection. Abusers know this, and they use it as a central method in order to gain power and control over their partners.
Fast forward fifteen years, and now I am a teacher at a suburban Community College, a new resident of this suburban community, and a volunteer for the My Public Library. My wife and I moved here in September of 2021, though the area is familiar to me, as I grew up in a nearby suburb. We had experienced harassment from neighbors in our previous community (outside of the county we now live in) as a result of our sexual orientation, and that intimidation was a driver of our decision to move and purchase our home in this suburban community. The larger political climate should have prepared us to encounter continued anti-LGBTQ discourse in our new community, but still, it’s disappointing, to say the least. More apt: it’s disheartening and disconcerting.
As I left the local artisan shop that was producing T-shirts in support of the Library’s Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion efforts–and specifically, the LGBTQ-themed events that had evoked threats of violence–I thought back to the “Power and Control Wheel” and my time with LSSA. While most of us engage with our community’s central issues by speaking up through writing letters and/or buying T-shirts that help to fund community agencies, a small but vocal minority is relying on violence and the ensuing and warranted measures of self-protection that follow (threats of) violence.
The democratic process is being disrupted through this strategy–randomized so as to heighten fears–of threatening violence. Significant moments of actual violence–such as the mass shootings at Elementary and High Schools or the Pulse Nightclub, in addition to the insurrection at the National Capital on January 6th–mean we must take these threats of violence seriously in order to protect ourselves; and in the case of the recently canceled My Local Library event, celebrating National Coming Out Day, our youth.
More people expressed support for this event (60.%) than disapproval (35.3%). And yet, those who disapprove threatened violence, and thus the event was canceled. Hence, I was left feeling like I was inside of the abusive cycle as outlined through the “Power and Control Wheel.”
Democracy as a political system is about the open exchange of ideas, which then through the chosen system of representation and voting, those ideas are put into practice. And it’s a constant conversation; we dialogue, debate, and vote regularly, so as to continually assess and reassess what is(n’t) working and where we need to reach towards new possibilities. It is not feasible to ensure that every single person’s ideas are implemented, but it is crucial that everyone’s voices are heard and valued. We must all humble ourselves at times to the reality that our personal ideas didn’t receive sufficient support for implementation. Democracy is about what’s in the best interest of everyone, and thus sometimes we must bow to the needs of the collective. We must then pick ourselves back up again by continuing to engage with the open exchange of ideas.
Central to this process, however, is physical safety. The violence of the Jim Crow era was strategic in the same way that the tactics of abusers are strategic: maintaining power and control. Democracy, at its core, is about sharing power and control widely, not shoring it up for just a few. And thus, there are limits to our First Amendment rights to freedom of speech; we cannot incite violence. And while there are certainly legal debates over what precisely constitutes incitement of violence, we now live in a world with documented evidence of some people’s willingness to perpetrate violence and as such, we must protect ourselves with due diligence.
I’m left wondering, and am thus reaching out to you: how are we as a community going to ensure the well-being of all of our residents? How are we going to relate to the principles of Democracy? Are we going to follow the majority’s support of the Library’s Director, the Library’s DEI initiatives, and the LGBTQ community? Or are we going to continue to find ourselves trapped in an abusive relationship, where the Democratic exchange of ideas–of which some ideas will become policy and others will not–is sidelined by threats of violence? Or, are we going to stand up in solidarity to support the most vulnerable members of our community and for the principles and practices of Democracy?
The majority of people in this community, myself among them, want LGBTQ-themed events–including for our youth–in addition to dialogues about racism, heteronormativity, local and global histories, and how to be good stewards of our community. It’s okay that some people–a small minority–don’t agree; it is not okay that they are bypassing civility, ignoring humility, and other prerequisites of representative Democracy by silencing us through threats of violence.
The most dangerous time in the life of a victim of domestic violence is the moment when she leaves. It’s a significant risk, to take this bold step toward safety, possibility, and towards health. In this case–the case of the My Public Library–we can take this step as a group, thus buffering some of the risks, but it’s a risk that we must take if we want to maintain a healthy Democracy and a healthy, safe and supportive community.
The work that the Library is doing, through the leadership of the current director, is necessary and important. I stand by their mission and values, as they represent me and my family, but also the well-being of our entire–and diverse–community, and of a healthy Democracy.
I ask that you do the same.
Submitted respectfully,
Monica Edwards
