When Language Hides the Truth

Sometimes the biggest shifts in understanding come from something small—a sentence, a word, even the way we arrange a thought.

Dr. Jackson Katz has spent decades showing people that the way we talk about domestic violence doesn’t just describe the problem. It shapes how we see it, whom we hold responsible, and whom we quietly let slip out of the frame.

Dr. Katz often begins with a simple exercise. Five short sentences. Nothing fancy. But by the end, the person who committed the violence has vanished, and the woman who experienced it is left holding the entire weight of the story.

It starts with “John beat Mary.” Clear. Direct. We know who acted and who was harmed.

Then the sentence shifts: “Mary was beaten by John.” John moves to the end of the line, already fading.

Next: “Mary was beaten.” John is gone. The violence remains, but the person responsible has disappeared.

Then: “Mary was battered.” The language becomes softer, more abstract. The harm is still there, but the source is nowhere to be found.

Finally: “Mary is a battered woman.” Now the violence has become her identity. The man who caused it is not even part of the sentence.

This is the moment when rooms go quiet. Because people recognize something they’ve seen all their lives but never named: how easily our language shifts responsibility away from the person who caused harm and onto the person who endured it.

And when that happens, the story changes. The questions change. The blame changes.

Instead of asking, “Why did he hurt her?” We ask, “Why did she stay?”

Instead of asking, “Why do some men abuse their partners?” We ask, “Why don’t women leave?”

Instead of saying, “He chose violence,” we say, “She is a battered woman.”

The focus moves from the person who acted to the person who survived. And once that shift happens, it becomes harder to see the full truth.

Jackson Katz: Violence against women—it’s a men’s issue

Jackson Katz shows how violent behaviors are tied to definitions of manhood.

Dr. Katz’s work reminds us that language is not neutral. It carries power. It shapes culture. It influences how communities respond to harm and how we understand responsibility. When we use passive voice—women were assaulted, women were abused—we erase the people who committed the violence. We make the harm sound like weather: something that just happens.

But domestic violence is not weather. It is not random. It is not inevitable.

When we keep the person who acted in the sentence, we keep accountability where it belongs.When we name the behavior clearly, we make space for real solutions.When we shift the focus from “women’s issues” to the actions and choices of men, we open the door to prevention, not just response.

Katz’s message is not about blame, it’s about responsibility. It’s about the role all of us can play in shaping a culture where harm is not ignored, minimized, or excused. It’s about understanding that silence is not neutral. And it’s about recognizing that men, especially, have a powerful role in challenging the attitudes and behaviors that allow violence to continue.

Communities grow stronger when we speak plainly about what’s happening. When we refuse to let the person who caused harm disappear from the story. When we center truth instead of habit. When we choose language that honors the dignity of survivors and calls for accountability from those who cause harm.

Changing a sentence may seem small. But changing how we talk about violence changes how we see it. And changing how we see it changes what we’re willing to do about it.

Because the real question isn’t “Why was Mary beaten?” The real question is “Why did John choose violence, and what will the people around him do to stop it?”

That shift in language is a shift in power. A shift in responsibility. A shift toward a safer, more honest world. And that’s a shift our culture needs.