‘Every slap demeans me’: at the intersection of disability, masculinity and intimate partner violence in the Global South

Abstract

The experiences of heterosexual men with paraplegia who are the victims of intimate partner violence remains an under-researched area. This article responds to the call for more research and offers an analysis of the narratives of five working-class coloured men in Cape Town, South Africa, who acquired spinal cord injuries and then fell victim to intimate partner violence. Narrative interviews were conducted with men and their wives. Drawing on Tarzia’s notion of the ‘invisible impacts of intimate partner violence’, narrative analysis explored the meanings and complexities involved in (re)claiming a sense of identity and sexual intimacy among these men, after their experiences of intimate partner violence. In many cases, the abuse was levelled against them as acts of revenge for having previously been violent non-disabled men. Wives’ narratives show nuances that complement the narratives of their partners as they too reflect on what it means to hold a space of safety, emotional stability, intimacy, love, and care for a paralysed husband, after the prior experience of intimate partner violence. Findings provide insight into ways of surviving intimate partner violence and (re)building healthy sexual relationships. At the intersection of intimate partner violence, disability and masculinity, the process of self-healing and (re)building satisfying intimate relations coexists with breaking the silence surrounding intimate partner violence.

Keywords:

• Disability
• female perpetrators
• intimate partner violence
• male victimhood
• masculinity

Introduction

Globally, intimate partner violence¹ is a significant social and public health issue (Mitra and Mouradian 2014; McCloskey et al. 2016; Bagwell-Gray 2019; Tarzia 2021). While this area of research has received substantial international attention, there remains a high prevalence of intimate partner violence among heterosexual relationships in South Africa (see Boonzaier 2008; Gass et al. 2011; Boonzaier and Van Niekerk 2018). The situation in South Africa is linked to several factors. For example, South Africa’s colonial and apartheid past and the ways in which this engendered large scale systematic injustice, has been proffered as the root cause of the high levels of crime and violence that plagues the country (Jewkes and Abrahams 2002).

In addition, the long-lasting impact of forced racial segregation and social stratification is evident in low educational attainment and high unemployment rates (Norman et al. 2010), and is epitomised by poverty and food insecurity (Hatcher et al. 2022) in Black South African townships, these factors contribute to decades of political and socio-economic violence that later increased rates of sexual and interpersonal violence and child abuse in South Africa (Seedat et al. 2009; Norman et al. 2010). Gang culture in South Africa also contributes significantly to intimate partner violence. For example, Gass et al. (2011) found that frequent exposure to gang violence during childhood and adolescence was a precursor to perpetrating intimate partner violence. Witnessing parental violence and childhood physical abuse is associated with the later perpetration of intimate partner violence (McCloskey et al. 2016). Together, these influences create a set of lenses through which to contextualise acts of sexual, interpersonal violence and intimate partner violence in South Africa’s marginalised communities (Jewkes and Abrahams 2002; Seedat et al. 2009; Norman et al. 2010).

South Africa’s violent history of subjugation and marginalisation has come to be normalised in such a way that many people still believe that violence is an acceptable way of resolving conflict (Van Niekerk and Boonzaier 2015). Most studies show men as perpetrators of intimate partner violence and women as victims of such violence (Seedat et al. 2009; McCloskey et al. 2016; Boonzaier and Van Niekerk 2018). While scholars have produced remarkable, albeit harrowing insights into the subjective experiences of intimate partner violence perpetrated by men in non-disabled heterosexual relationships, few have investigated the intersections of intimate partner violence, gender and disability in South Africa.

Emerging research in the Global South draws attention to men who perpetrate intimate partner violence on women with disabilities (Van der Heijden, Abrahams, and Harries 2019; Stern, van der Heijden, and Dunkle 2020). These researchers highlight how woman with disabilities are more at risk of experiencing intimate partner violence (which also increases the severity of the disability) compared to non-disabled women (see also Neille and Penn 2015; Chirwa et al. 2020). The impact of intimate partner violence therefore also shapes the ways in which women with disabilities live (Chirwa et al. 2020). There is a dearth of research that focuses on heterosexual, disabled men’s experiences of violence perpetrated by their female partners. The research presented here address this critical gap in the literature. On offer, is a documentation and examination of the experiences of coloured² disabled men from impoverished communities in Cape Town, South Africa, who violently acquired spinal cord injuries through interpersonal violence, and then subsequently became the victims of female perpetrated intimate partner violence. This is followed by conversations with the men and their wives on ways of surviving intimate partner violence, which include unpacking the complexities involved in providing safety, intimacy, love and care for a paralysed husband subsequent to the experience of intimate partner violence, with the perpetrator of intimate partner violence. The aim is to provide insight into ways of surviving intimate partner violence and (re)building healthy and satisfying intimate relationships.

This paper builds on Tarzia’s (2021, 293) finding of ‘invisible impacts’ which encompasses the long-term effects that victims of sexual and intimate partner violence endure in their intimate and sexual relationships, after experiences of intimate partner violence. We show how intimate partner violence obstructs sexual intimacy and the possibility of a healthy sexual life. Through further analysis, we reveal how religious values and alternative forms of sexual intercourse and intimacy can be used to find a way of healing, surviving and rebuilding a healthy sexual relationship with the perpetrator of intimate partner violence, after the experience of intimate partner violence. We recognise the interconnectedness of sexual violence and intimate partner violence, since the narratives presented here reveal unspoken layers of sexual violence unearthed through experiences of intimate partner violence.

Methodology

The work described is part of a doctoral study focusing on the impact of violently acquired spinal cord injuries on the lives of 32 male participants. Access to participants was gained through links to non-governmental organisations for people with spinal cord injuries in the Western Cape. Beyond these organisations, additional participants who met the inclusion criteria were recruited through snowball sampling, based on referrals from participants (Palinkas et al. 2015). Participants had to meet the following criteria: (i) male; (ii) racially self-identity as coloured; (iii) 18 years or older; (iv) English or Afrikaans speaking; (v) violently acquired a complete spinal cord injury; (vi) experienced intimate partner violence post injury; (vii) reside on the Cape Flats in the Western Cape.

Five participants whose narratives centred on their experiences of intimate partner violence were approached to participate in a semi-structured life history interview. A follow-up unstructured interview was conducted with these five men and their wives, who here represent the perpetrators of intimate partner violence, to understand the ways in which the survivors of intimate partner violence find ways to reconcile their marriage.

Each male participant was interviewed twice in their home for up to three hours per session. Interviews focused on how participants’ lives had changed after acquiring the spinal cord injury. After two months, a one-hour interview with the married couple took place and focused on how they reconciled their marriage after the experiences of intimate partner violence. Participants provided written and verbal consent to participate and requested pseudonyms due to the sensitive nature of their experiences. Meeting participants in their homes on multiple occasions allowed the first author to develop rapport and credibility which proved vital for the sharing of sensitive information.

Because participants remained married after their experiences of intimate partner violence, the assumption was made that reconciliation and healing work had commenced, therefore their sharing of subjective experiences of intimate partner violence was framed as a process of collective reflection on their journeys as victims and perpetrators of violence. Such framing also invited testimony regarding the ongoing work being done (individually and collectively) to foster a healthier and safer marriage. An approach stressing the ethics of care (Tong 1998) was employed to maximise participant safety. Participants were encouraged to share only what they were comfortable with, to avoid triggering any discomfort

Riessman’s (2008) narrative thematic analysis was used to analyse the data, with a primary focus on narrative content. The analysis involved: transcribing the audiotapes verbatim, compiling a log of interview summaries, generating open codes from the transcriptions to highlight important terms, repeated concepts and patterns that occurred in the process of ‘telling’. These frequently expressed concepts were then developed into themes.

Findings and discussion

Introducing the participants

The men who participated in this study shared stories about growing up in poor and dangerous neighbourhoods, becoming violent men, acquiring a spinal cord injury through violence, and the level of injury on their spinal cord (T1–T12).

Marco joined the ‘School Boys’ gang at the age of 13. All the men in his family are gangsters. Beneath his shirt he wore a gun wrapped around his tattooed chest with a black leather belt, which he carried on his person even during our meetings at his house. At the age of 27, after one year of marriage to Leigh-Ann, he was stabbed in his spine by two men, outside his house. Marco, unemployed, reflected on seven years of living with a complete T10 injury, and said, ‘many people with disabilities are afraid to speak, maybe they are not ready, but I am’.

Brandon, 45 years old, is married to Dora. He is a self-employed wood seller, and his son, Brian, died in a crossover shooting in 2019. He framed his narrative around gratitude for having a second chance in life after he was shot in the spine, attempting to stop a fight, 21-years ago.

Igshan, or ‘Evil Mafia’, joined ‘The Americans’ gang at age eleven. He became drug dependent and worked in the taxi industry to provide for his grandparents and six cousins - with whom he resided in a two-bedroom house. He was skilled in killing with a pocket-knife. At the age of 22, he acquired a T12 complete injury after being stabbed innumerable times. He remains a gangster, is married to Carmen, and is blessed with a third son, conceived after injury.

Ratjie, aged 40, is married and has a mouth full of gold teeth and sleeve tattoos on both arms. He was abused by his father and ran away from home at the age of ten. He sold newspapers on street corners, committed burglary to survive, and joined ‘The Americans’ gang where he became known as a murderous man. After marrying Terisa at age 22, he became a father. At age 25, he acquired an L12 complete injury through gun violence, which also left him unemployed.

Clint, aged 48, joined the ‘Hard Livings’ gang at the age of 14 and married Daphne at the age of 22. He is a father to six children. He was shot at the age of 32 in an act of gang vengeance and acquired a T12 complete injury. Sixteen years of paralysis and relying on a disability grant to feed himself, his unemployed wife and six children, has placed an enormous amount of strain on his marriage.

‘Dirty laundry’: humiliation and shame

All the men in this study were involved in gangsterism prior to injury. The acts of violence they used to control activities and maintain dominance in their communities, were also directed towards their wives. Verbal disputes with wives often provoked physical assault, sometimes in the presence of visitors, leaving the ‘dirty laundry’ publicly and unashamedly exposed. The men spoke of dirty laundry as triggered by the unresolved issues, and unspoken truths that accumulated until the situation became unbearable for their wives. This humiliation resulted in violence. For example, Igshan recalled an occasion when his wife, in front of the guests, voiced her anger about his drug use, gang priorities, and adultery. He said,

She put me under a spotlight and told them my dirty laundry… Her friends looked at me with disgust. When they left, we argued about it, and I stabbed her on her shoulder […] I cannot believe I was prepared to kill her.

Through these acts of gossip and performance (Salo 2003), women within the local communities on the Cape Flats sought to assert power, epitomise respectability, and shape reputation. The outburst by Igshad’s wife was one such example of this, albeit opposed by men in these communities for whom power and reputation matter (Salo 2003), hence Igshad’s own response when he turned towards his source of strength, the pocketknife, to reclaim his gendered agency. The event almost led to his imprisonment and the death of his wife. His words ‘I cannot believe I was prepared to kill her’, showed his disbelief at the extent of his violent nature, but also the possibility of a sense of transformation in his being, ushering in new possibilities for resolving conflict, post injury.

Similarly, Clint asserted authority by physically abusing his wife as a way of silencing her when she exposed his ‘dirty laundry’ – sometimes in the presence of their children. Clint said, ‘I saw how fast my dad’s slap silenced my mom’. His narrative reveals how intimate partner violence can be learned through childhood exposure (McCloskey et al. 2016) whereby boys are socialised into thinking that physical violence is an adequate way of ‘silencing’ women. When asked how this made him feel at the time. Clint said, ‘the moment I slap her, I am in control!’ This feeling of power knowing their violent actions silence their wives and re-establish dominance, was echoed by other men.

Male participants attested to being violent towards their wives prior to acquiring a spinal cord injury because intimate partner violence in their communities was often used to assert power and control, linked to gender norms and respectability. This finding is echoed in the work of Van Niekerk and Boonzaier (2015). Following their spinal cord injury, behaviour, intimate relationships and power dynamics changed within their households and men now found themselves on the receiving end of violence.

A paradox: ‘in sickness and in health’

Spinal cord injuries impacted the ways in which men (re)negotiated their relationships with their wives. The level of injury determines the extent to which sexual intercourse is later possible. This impacts sexual relationships and exposes a fragility in men’s masculinity, especially since physical strength and sex were once dominant markers of their masculine identity (see Cole 2006; Sakellariou 2006). After a spinal cord injury, men are obliged to redefine and reconfigure their sense of manhood, self and sexuality. The grief they experience from their paralysis, encompasses the loss of feelings of love and intimacy, but also the loss of physical strength to defend themselves (Ostrander 2008).

Under this theme, the men reflected on how this loss has enabled their wives (who were never violent prior to their husbands’ injuries), to now perpetuate physical violence and emotional abuse as a way of claiming power, control and respect for themselves within their marriages. Although limited to movement in their wheelchairs, the attempt to reclaim power and respect within their marriage persisted. Marco, for example, who experienced intimate partner violence regularly, threatened to kill his wife by reminding her of the murderous man he once was. He said,

She pulled me out of bed while I was sleeping and hit me. I told her that I will kill her. She knows I don’t think twice about shooting.

Included within the attempt to reclaim a sense of masculinity, power, and control, was the assertion that he was still a man. For other participants, asserting their masculinity was difficult since their understanding of masculinity was based on a non-disabled embodiment of manhood which entailed physical strength, power and violence. These men had found that a safer way to respond to intimate partner violence was through surrendering and being demeaned, humiliated, rendered powerless and defenceless. Ratjie, for example, reflected on how his spouse had become someone whom he never thought she could be:

… She cheated […] I read her messages while she was asleep […] I’ve never seen her so mad! She got out of bed, threw me out of the wheelchair, and our eldest son started shouting, ‘mummy you can’t do this to daddy!’ I cried […] and realised that I was laying on the floor in my pee and poo. I felt so worthless.

Ratje’s expectation of having a caring and committed wife, no matter what, was shattered by the discovery of her infidelity. This experience of loss and grief was echoed by Brandon who said, ‘our love failed after the injury […] I wanted to kill myself’. The sanctuary of home that men had established for themselves through acts of violence, became one of enmity and mortification, with themselves at the receiving end. Clint elaborated on this:

She hit me with a broom in front of our kids. When I had to be a father figure, she belittled me. It was a joke, ‘mummy’s hitting daddy’. I hated her.

Although Clint expressed hate towards his wife for humiliating him in the presence of his sons, he still felt that he deserved this treatment for having sexually and physically abused his wife as a non-disabled man. Corbally (2015) argues that fathers who are disabled and victims of intimate partner violence often experience a sense of ‘stolen fatherhood’ as their role as a father is undermined and diminished in the presence of their children. The concept of stolen fatherhood resonated for many participants in this study. Igshan poignantly recalled,

She kicked me out of the wheelchair, sat on my chest, and punched me. Like Lord King Mafia on top of me, in front of my son. I felt like a failure.

Traditionally, and prior to the men’s injury, conversations about sex and sexual experiences were considered ‘private’ among members of the coloured community (Lesch and Adams 2016), intimate partner violence also tended to occur in private spaces such as the bedroom recognised for safety and refuge. Currently, post-injury, violence now took place in living areas which were readily visible to children and visitors. Children who in some cases had witnessed their fathers physically abusing their mothers, now bore witness to these same mothers physically abusing their fathers. This bearing witness to intimate partner violence thus becomes an acceptable way of engaging in marital dispute. It also establishes a way of experiencing and knowing violence as a familiar guest (McCloskey et al. 2016).

Men expressed great pain at having their children bear witness to intimate partner violence. Their fear was that their children, like they themselves, would continue to perpetuate the cycle of abuse in their own marriages, negatively impacting their own children in turn. In such confronting moments, these men lacked the capacity to show their sons how to defend themselves as men, and to exercise authority in a pugnacious situation. These moments of defeat bring masculinity into question and highlight its fragility. What is also evident here, is how being a man on the Cape Flats can only be construed in terms of physical strength and violence

Marriage remained a core feature of men’s lives, perhaps even more so now, post injury. Ratjie reflected deeply on the meaning of marriage, love and care when he said,

She vowed, ‘until death do us part, in sickness and health…’, but everything changed since I got injured […]

The irony here is that the marriage vows only held fast while Ratjie was non-disabled and able to perform his duties as father, husband and lover, even amidst the intimate partner violence. His physical paralysis also signalled a paralysis in his marriage – literally and figuratively, since he was unable to perform his traditional and expected role as the ‘man’ of the house. The marriage vows were something that he now held onto, in the hope of regaining some form of sanctuary. His weakened physical state became a stimulus for him to reach out to ideals epitomised in the sanctity of marriage, an ideological basis of support. This ideological basis of appeal was borne out of necessity as a substitute for the brute strength and physicality he once wielded. His wife, however, did not buy into his ideological reawakening, and spurned the vows he now held on to, in his submissive state.

In this theme, the dynamics of power changes from non-disabled to disabled. Men reflect on their masculinity in hegemonic terms as they ponder the overlaps between non-disabled bodied power, violence and manhood, and contrast this with their experience of deficit masculinities, brought about by their injuries. The deficits and vulnerabilities that they experience are exposed by their wives through physical and psychological trauma and humiliation. This shows how malleable constructions of masculinity can be in the face of life-changing trauma

What appears evident from the above narratives are changes in perceptions and attitudes about what it means to be a man outside of the hegemonic structures of violent masculinity present in working-class contexts on the Cape Flats. Furthermore, men’s narratives in this theme, suggest that these coloured men are open to rethinking meanings of gender and sexuality and relinquishing heteronormative notions as predatory and uncontrollable (see Lesch and Adams 2016). The men’s narratives also show how conversing in private presented a solution to conflict. This was in complete contrast to how they had previously dealt with conflict as non-disabled men. The assumption here is that the implications of the severity of their injuries acted as a stimulus for critical self-reflection and introspection on the acts of violence committed in the home. The injury thus becomes a turning point of intense and prolonged anguish and reflection about the meaning of their existence.

Repairing rupture: ‘till death do us part’

Open conversations with men and their wives was held in each of their homes. The conversation explored why married women still chose to stay with their disabled husbands, given that the paralysis of a partner is associated with a high divorce rate (Cole 2006; Ostrander 2008). The conversation shifted to marital challenges encountered post injury, which included sexual difficulties, unemployment problems, lack of intimacy and care, intimate partner violence, and ways of surviving sexual violence in the marriage. This space also offered wives an opportunity to reflect on what it meant to have the capacity to hold and emotionally support husbands who they themselves had physically abused, postinjury.

Forgiveness

Participants spoke about religious values, specifically ‘forgiveness’, as a way of ‘surviving’ intimate partner violence and restoring marital love. Forgiveness helped to foster a spiritual closeness with God. The phrase ‘because the Bible says that God forgives, so should I’ was voiced by several participants. Brandon and his wife, Dora, collectively reflected on their process of forgiving.

Brandon:  Forgiveness is like a pimple that grows, with time, until it spurts […] It started with forgiving myself. I carried so much hate, for myself, her… for them.

Dora:  […] every time I chose to forgive him. I had to think of what it must be like to be paralysed. People only show care when he has money […] Without me, there is no one else that he can turn to.

Brandon and Dora, spoke about forgiveness as being a ‘choice’. They chose to forgive each other to resolve intramarital conflict. Choice thereby acts as a way of overcoming intimate partner violence and entails acknowledging how the injury impacts marriage, and men’s sense of self. This renouncement of the self reflects a shift in Brandon and Dora’s approach to one another and highlights a way of ‘becoming’ a better husband and wife. Ratjie and Terisa spoke too about how forgiveness has instilled a spiritual awakening and closeness to God.

Ratjie:  I got a second chance to life. If God can forgive, I can also forgive. I had to ask her whether she is strong enough to be with me, to clean me when I dirty myself, and to stay when I cannot go to accessible places?

Drawing from the notion of renouncing the self, Ratjie spoke to his vulnerability and dependence on his wife and others for his survival, sanity and sense of being.

Ratjie’s extract further shows how his vulnerability create a consciousness of humanity in him, giving rise to a ‘new man’ and an alternative masculinity. This consciousness forms part of the rebuilding and healing process in which the men in this study recreate new possibilities for ways of being ‘men’, fathers and husbands. Some wives recognised such vulnerabilities and accepted their husband’s lot as their own, as indicated by Terisa:

Terisa:  I stayed because I love him. The Bible teaches us that, ‘love is patient and kind… is not arrogant or rude…’ If you do not understand that verse, then you won’t be able to be with a paralysed man. It’s not easy to love with all the baggage, but I don’t mind cleaning his bum because that is love.

Daphne and Clint expressed some similar ideas:

Daphne:  We both accepted Christ, and in that way our situation changed; we are no longer the violent people we were. We are equally yoked.

‘Equally yoked’ is a traditional term that symbolises the sanctified unity of marriage (Marks et al. 2008). Maintaining an equally yoked marriage includes the observance of religious practices like attending and serving in church together, communicating openly, and being equally invested in their children and marriage. Marks et al. (2012) argues that sharing spiritual direction and the yoke of faith can prevent intramarital conflict. Findings in this study, show how limitations in physical ability may be surpassed by spiritual equality, which compensates for everything else. The couples now subscribed to a higher authority whereby decisions on what to do, what to think, and how to feel were governed by religious principles of obedience and servitude to one another, and through such acts of devotion, both members of the couple become empowered. This religious understanding of their new roles was crucial to their survival as a married couple.

Clint:  […] she always says that she is not interested in hearing my past. She is interested in the person I am now. That portrays an image of Christ. He accepted me. She accepts me.

Part of being ‘made whole’ in Christianity, means leaving your past behind and being ‘born again’ and becoming a ‘new person’. This conversion enables Clint’s remaking of manhood and consequently his self-understanding as a man. The broken bodies of men now cease to be a hindrance to ‘being valued’ and ‘being human’. This symbolic gesture shows how the men in this study who recognised religion as an enabler of healing within their broken relationships and sanctifying their marriage, also recognised how their gender identities were reshaped by being ‘born again’ (Van Klinken 2012), resulting in an alternative form of masculinity.

Couples acknowledged the violence that had been within in their marriages, and the transformations undergone by both. For the men, paralysis limited violence towards their wives. Since rehabilitation, men reflected on their lives in ways that made them want to be a ‘better’ man; more compassionate, caring, and vulnerable than they had been before. This visible process of self-transformation also allowed the women to reflect on their own violent responses to conflict situations with their husbands. Seeing their husbands submissive and vulnerable responses over time instilled a sense of empathy within them. The silence about men’s victimisation to intimate partner violence postinjury from their wives shows the extent to which the wives had moved on and made peace with the past.

The wives’ response to the question, ‘why not divorce?’ is encapsulated in Dora’s simple response: ‘I chose to love him’. This decision is scaffolded through joint participation in religious practices, teaching and values as to what marriage means. Becoming born-again is a rupture and represents an ongoing existential project (Marshall 2009 as cited in Van Klinken 2012) for participants, which includes attending church, praying and receiving on-going guidance from their pastors as a form of retribution and acknowledgement of wrong that have been done. In this way, religious practice fosters transformation of gender and manhood. Participating in conversations with the couples in the same room, sounded like a renewal of vows to love, unconditionally. What appears as evident in this theme is the radical sense of personhood that is produced in the reshaping of gender and manhood (Burchardt 2018).

Sex and intimacy

One of the most significant ways in which spinal cord injuries impacts men is in terms of sexual function (Shakespeare 1999; Cole 2006; Sakellariou 2006; Hunt et al. 2018). As non-disabled men, masculinity was typically constructed around physical strength, body image and sexual performance. For these men, the number of sexual partners they had had and the number of women they brought to orgasm, were affirmations of their ‘alpha’ manhood. Post injury, their paralysis did not allow them to achieve a natural erection and ejaculate. As a result, some men resisted engaging in sexual intercourse out of shame and fear of rejection. As part of reconciling and healing their marriage, couples collectively reflected on ‘new’ ways of engaging in satisfying sexual intercourse. Ratjie and Terisa explained.

Ratjie:  […] I must drink a pill to get an erection that lasts for about 3 h. I cannot feel anything, but she can […] It is important that she is satisfied. This satisfies me.

Terisa:  I am at the age of 40, I am not looking for rough sex anymore. If he can satisfy me in ways that make me feel like a woman, then it’s enough […]

Talk of ‘spontaneous sex’, ‘rough and quick [sex]’ and having ‘numerous sex partners’, were common themes in reflections on the non-disabled bodied sex that men had once enjoyed. Aggression, control and dominance formed part of such enjoyment, signalling aspects of their masculinity that were not only depicted on the streets or among other gang members, but also in the bedroom, under the sheets.

Now, as men learned more about their bodies and their physical limitations, they learned new ways of engaging in sexual intercourse. Through this, some men learned to see sex as ‘normal’ again and to feel like ‘real men’ post injury. What was apparent, however, was their acceptance of the ways in which sex roles, positions and power dynamics had shifted due to paralysis. Having sexually satisfied wives, also satisfied them. Brandon and Dora, put the emphasis on sensuality and intimacy:

Brandon:  When she caresses my head and spine, I get aroused… I use an injection to finish the deed.

Dora:  It’s not easy to tell a man what you want and how you want it. I had to tell him how I want to be satisfied.

Even though Brandon was unable to feel sexual pleasure, he understood that mutual sexual satisfaction was important to sustain a healthy marriage. The choice to enhance their sexual lifestyle gave Dora greater ‘voice’ to confidently express her sexual desires. In Clint’s case, he feared that if he did not sexually satisfy his wife, she would leave him and find another man who could. Clint said, ‘I satisfy her, because if she’s miserable, our life will be miserable’.

Marco in contrast, had chosen to abstain from penetrative sex since the injury. He was not comfortable using medication to gain an erection and spoke about the shame and distrust he felt regarding this. However, his choice to abstain from penetrative sex had offered him the chance to explore oral sex. Finding creative ways of orally pleasing his wife had offered him the chance to become reacquainted with her body, and to learn more about sexual pleasure. Marco also expressed how this new kind of intimacy felt ‘safer’ to deal with, post intimate partner violence trauma:

Marco:  I take my time to explore her body and make her more aware of her sensitivities […] I know that she is learning to deal with the trauma, and I can feel it […] Now that I am paralysed, I am more open to conversations with her about sex.

Leigh-Ann:  We needed to think of how we were going to make it work… There are times when we just hold each other. I feel like I do not need to do much to feel loved.

Marco’s sexual acts took place in response to the trauma that still resided in Leigh-Ann. Thus, he approached her knowing that he needed to regain her trust, and he also needed to relearn how to feel safe with her. Engaging in open conversation during and after sex facilitated a moment of reflection on their individual needs and desires. Sharing honesty extended to sexual intimacy – which was not something he had done as a non-disable bodied man. Taking responsibility for his partner’s sexual satisfaction put him in touch with himself as a 'man’ and his wife’s womanhood. Marco’s heightened sense of sensitivity and nurturing post injury fostered safety and trust. Leigh-Ann explained that this has required time, conversation and holding intimate spaces for each other. It had allowed them to see each other as lovers and companions, not as the perpetrators of intimate partner violence. This resonated with Igshad’s wife, Carmen, who said, ‘… we kissed, and I felt him, like the person that I fell in love with, not like a monster’. Showing this kind of intimacy not only reaffirmed love and connection, but repaired ruptures, post intimate partner violence.

Conclusion

This study has focused on the narratives of five, disabled, working class, coloured men resident in marginalised communities in Cape Town. They identified as gangsters and acquired spinal cord injuries through gang related involvement. Prior to their injuries, each man had physically and sexually abused his wife. Post injury, their wives in turn, perpetrated intimate partner violence against them. This study contributes meaningfully to dialogues breaking the silence about gender-based violence and creating space for self-healing, by engaging both the victims and perpetrators of intimate partner violence.

Existing research on intimate partner violence focuses largely on the individual experiences of women (and disabled people) and even though the findings of this study are based on a relatively small and specific sample of disabled men, they draw attention to the silences and severities of disabled male victimisation through intimate partner violence perpetrated by their female partners. The men in this study showed how deeply rooted the impact of intimate partner violence was with respect to being humiliated and diminished by their wives, especially in the presence of their sons. This was worrisome for the ways in which their sons might begin to understand and internalise violence as a response to conflict, as they grow into adulthood.

Given the machismo attached to masculinity on the Cape Flats, the men in this study never reported being the victims of intimate partner violence to the police, and neither did the witnesses of these events who opted for silence and non-involvement in such ‘personal’ matters. This alludes to the normalisation of violence in marginalised communities, fuelled by societal and cultural expectations of appropriate masculine performance. Reporting a case of violence on a ‘differently abled’ man is deemed as perpetuating a vulnerability in their embodiment of masculinity. Here, we suggest that health practitioners, researchers and academics should direct attention towards a better understanding the relationship between male victims reporting cases of intimate partner violence, cultural and social notions of masculinity, and stigma.

What is evident in the findings of this study is the emergence of a different kind of masculinity, postinjury and experiences of intimate partner violence. The role of religion in facilitating men’s transitioning to their ‘new’ masculinities (and their wives to new femininities), elevates them above the need for violence and social humiliation. Religious discourse grants them the opportunity as a couple to process conflict differently and to be answerable to a higher power. It also allowed them to engage in selfless acts of kindness, intimacy, love, reflection and forgiveness. This enabled the regrowth, reconceptualisation and sanctifying of their relationship as man and wife, shifting them from a place of conflict to a place of harmony, where they no longer must contend with hegemonic gendered identities. What appears as a result is a new world view and a new social order, an enclave of sorts that harbours them from the harshness of external reality in these marginalised communities.

This work points to the existence of a masculine identity that has been (re)constructed through lived experiences of perseverance, fragility, strength, disorientation, loss, gain, helplessness, hope, hopelessness and survival. The experiences illustrated challenge dominant deficit discourses associated with disability by restoring disabled men’s humanity and the right to live, feel and belong.

Acknowledgements

We are indebted to the men and women who participated in this study. We thank the reviewers and editors who provided valuable and constructive feedback to strengthen the quality of this work.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the authors.

Additional information

Funding

This study was funded by a National Research Foundation - Nuffic Neso Doctoral Scholarship (No. 120228)

Notes

1 Defined as any abusive act deemed to generate fear, intimidation, disorientation, and that can cause physical injury, using objects or one’s body to hit, kick, push, bite, shoot, stab, or strangle another person (Eckstein 2010). Intimate partner violence may also include sexual (e.g. rape) and/or psychological communication (threats, name calling, degradation, social isolation).

2 The term ‘coloured’ is a racial identity category in South Africa that was imposed by the apartheid government specifically to a population of heterogenous people of mixed origins.