Abstract
Focusing on Palestinian mothers in Israel participating in a nonmandatory welfare-to-work program, the study addresses whether these women experience economic abuse from their intimate partner/ex-partner, as well as whether they perceive the program as an opportunity to escape economic abuse and move toward economic independence. Based on interviews of 26 mothers and three trainers, the findings revealed dual economic abuse: in the domestic sphere and at the structural level (the labor market and welfare laws). The findings also suggest that the assistance the women receive from the welfare-to-work program has been insufficient to extricate them from their abusive situation.
Keywords
Introduction
Economic abuse is one aspect of a broader discussion of women's financial rights. It is of particular significance for women who are part of a national minority suffering economic, social, and political exclusion, in which women have virtually no such rights. Yet, this issue has largely been left unstudied. Durusay (2013) acknowledges the challenge of rendering economic abuse more visible, noting that several major international documents addressing equality ignore the topic entirely. 1 In the Israeli context as well, numerous studies on violence experienced by Israeli women in general and Palestinian women in particular (Haj-Yahia, 2000; Hassan, 1999; Shalhoub-Kevorkian, 2006) fail to mention economic abuse.
This study draws attention to various types of economic abuse by intimate partners (intimate partner violence [IPV]) directed against Palestinian mothers who are Israeli citizens. Such abuse needs to be examined against the background of multiple positions of marginality. Israel is considered an “ethnic democracy” that grants most rights to its Jewish citizens, while non-Jewish citizens are less able to exercise their socioeconomic, civil, and political rights (Smooha, 2017). Although defined as a welfare state, several laws shape and reproduce socioeconomic inequality for Palestinian mothers (Berkovitch, 1997; Herbst, 2013), creating differential protection against economic forces for different populations according to their nationality and citizenship, and excluding subordinate social groups from certain rights and benefits (Rosenhek, 2007). Acute structural issues in the labor market are reflected in a lack of employment zones and public transportation in Palestinian localities (Kraus & Yonay, 2018). These are interwoven with such nonstructural issues as a paucity of social networks that provide bridges to integrate into the labor market, as well as lack of jobs near their homes that allow them to maintain gender boundaries and expectations. In addition, Palestinian women suffer from nonstructural economic abuse resulting from their marginalized social position in the family and the community. Thus, we focus on mothers from multiple marginal positions, as part of a discriminated national-ethnic minority and excluded group in Israeli society, as well as a marginalized group in Palestinian society, to expand our understanding of structural and nonstructural violence against women. Such abuse might have crucial consequences in terms of deepening their poverty, compromising the women's ability to gain a higher education, and hindering their personal and occupational development.
Specifically, we examine the perceptions of Palestinian participants in the Woman of Valor program, an Israeli nonmandatory welfare-to-work (WTW) program that aims to integrate women into the labor force and improve the employment of those already working outside the home. Our study addresses a range of situations experienced by these women—from those who were and continue to be in abusive relationships, including women separated from their ex-partner, to those who have found a way to halt the abuse or at least minimize it.
Our research questions are twofold. First, do Palestinian mothers suffer economic abuse in the private sphere, inflicted by their husbands or ex-husbands, and in the public sphere, inflicted by the labor market and welfare laws? If so, how do the women describe the forms of economic abuse? Second, how do women who have suffered economic abuse—whether they have left the abusive situation or remain in it—perceive their participation in the WTW program as a platform for economic independence and as a source of resilience?
Employment Status of Palestinian Women in Israel: Structural Economic Abuse
Palestinians constitute a national minority in Israel (21.1% of the general population in Israel; ICBS, 2021). Notwithstanding the heterogeneity of Palestinian society in Israel in terms of religion, socioeconomic status, and place of residence, women in that society are subject to multiple marginality, influenced both by the Arab culture in the Middle East, which upholds patriarchal norms related to gender roles and family orientation, and by their fragile civil status, which provides a limited structure of opportunities (Abu-Baker, 2016; Sabbah-Karkabi, 2020).
Nonetheless, the situation of Palestinian women in Israel has improved in recent years, characterized by increased rates of college education and labor force participation, as well as an improved standard of living (Gharrah, 2018; ICBS, 2018). Employment rates of these women have risen since the early 2000s, reaching 35% in 2018, with 18% of the increase ascribed to improved employment of women lacking a high school diploma and the rest attributed to the rising rates of higher education (Fuchs & Weiss, 2018). Moreover, the disparity in rates of married and unmarried Palestinian women in the workforce has become very small (Abu-Baker, 2002; Kraus & Yonay, 2018). Most female college graduates work in female-dominated occupations, such as teaching, nursing, and social welfare. Yet, almost 40% of the employed women hold part-time positions, largely due to scarce job opportunities, but also to care for their families and households (Fuchs & Weiss, 2018). Moreover, despite the aforementioned improvements, there are still deep gaps and persistent inequality between Palestinian women and their Israeli-Jewish counterparts, as well as women in other postindustrial nations (Gharrah, 2018; ICBS, 2018). The increase in employment rates of Palestinian women in Israel has been similar to the increase among Jewish women (with a rate of 79% in 2018), such that the gap between them has hardly narrowed, despite the rise in the educational level of the former (Fuchs & Friedman-Wilson, 2018).
While women who work are no longer unusual in Palestinian society in Israel, women can work outside the home, especially in Muslim and Druze families, only as long as they maintain modesty and family honor, which is subject to male family supervision. Accepted cultural norms thus limit the freedom of choice of women seeking work; and husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons impose restrictions on their occupational opportunities. At the same time, leaving the home to work carries potential for change, as the women's contribution to household income and their new work experiences improve their bargaining position vis-à-vis the men in the family (Meler, 2017; Kraus & Yonay, 2018; Sa’ar, 2016).
Palestinian women in Israel have largely joined the workforce motivated by a desire to increase their economic value as wives rather than to become “career women” (Abu-Baker, 2002). As a result of this trend, these women have begun to experience the duality of working for a living and tending to their children and households. The “working woman” category no longer carries shame, and Palestinian men prefer to marry women who hold jobs, although no public discussion ensues about possible changes in the gendered division of labor. Therefore, the breadwinner norm is still highly dominant and the woman is still expected to be the primary caregiver in the family. Women bear the burden of proving that they can combine their dual family and employment roles successfully in the face of social criticism and sanctions by their husbands and families (Sabbah-Karkabi, 2020).
Researchers have emphasized how discriminatory government policy affects the employment rates of Palestinian women in Israel, maintaining that policy leaves Palestinian communities with less developed infrastructure and with limited industrial and commercial areas (Gharrah, 2018; Kraus & Yonay, 2018; Sa’ar, 2016). This restricts employment opportunities within Palestinian communities, forcing many to work outside their communities. While the men tend to work wherever they find jobs, the women, like their Jewish counterparts and women in other Western societies, tend to work only if they find suitable jobs that allow them to care for their families—close to home (Khatab, 2009). Therefore, work in the ethnic enclave market is perceived as an advantage, as it is easier to fill family roles, meet gender perceptions, and overcome various obstacles (Sa’ar, 2016). Women seeking work outside their communities face multiple difficulties, such as lack of appropriate public transportation, lack of social connections, and discrimination (Kraus & Yonay, 2018; Malki, 2011; Sa’ar, 2016). Sa’ar (2011) claims that the dependence of women on local employment and the lack of state supervision, especially in the private sector, reduce their bargaining power and significantly impair their ability to exercise their rights to receive fair wages, overtime wages, and protection from sexual harassment.
In sum, discrimination on the basis of nationality and exclusion on the basis of gender require Palestinian women in Israel to deal with multiple marginalities, expressed, among other things, in relatively low labor market participation. Alongside the structural economic abuse experienced by Palestinians in the public sphere, some also experience various aspects of economic abuse in the domestic sphere.
Economic Abuse Against Women in the Domestic Sphere
IPV has a gendered nature; it is both a cause and a consequence of the general gender inequality in the society (Sharp-Jeffs, 2015). Like other types of IPV against women (physical, sexual, and psychological), economic abuse involves practices by the partner or other relatives aimed at maintaining power and control. Economic abuse usually does not appear on its own, but rather coexists with other types of violence against women. It has long-term effects and implications for physical and mental health (Anitha, 2019; Basile & Hall, 2011; Peled & Krigel, 2016).
Economic abuse focuses on abuse related to control of money, goods, assets, and the means to gain them through education or paid work (Anitha, 2019). It refers, for example, to lack of access to money, being “unbanked” (lacking a checking or savings account), and being isolated from household financial information (Sanders, 2015). These practices, usually experienced by women, affect one's ability to obtain, use, manage, and maintain economic resources independently (without any supervision), threatening the woman's financial security and her potential to support herself (Adams et al., 2008; Usta et al., 2013).
Olufunmilayo (2008) identified partner economic abuse against women as situations in which a male abuser maintains control of the family finances, deciding on his own how the money is to be spent or saved and thereby reducing the woman to complete dependence on him to meet her personal financial needs. It may involve putting women on a strict allowance or forcing them to beg for money. It may also be expressed by excluding women from financial decision making, preventing them from commencing or completing education, forbidding their formal or informal employment (Meler, 2016; Durusay, 2013), or controlling their access to dwelling land resources (Abou-Tabickh, 2010; Anitha, 2019).
Another type of economic abuse is related to income allocation, i.e., decisions about and practices of how the money generated by household members is divided between areas of expenditure and savings (Meler, 2019). The outcome of these decisions and practices is considered the actual income distribution. Income is allocated through overt and covert mechanisms operating within the household (Pahl, 1983; Vogler, 1994), based on different gender expectations (Meler, 2019; Roman & Vogler, 1999). Different methods of money management between spouses are clearly related to income, and gender inequalities in access to money are a result of these allocation systems (Roman & Vogler, 1999).
To date, masculinity continues to be associated with the breadwinning role, and the husband's economic contribution to the household tends to be seen as having greater value than the wife's, regardless of how much the woman actually earns (Deutsch et al., 2003). The wife's salary is seen as supplementary income or pin money earmarked for specific purposes and treated as less important than the husband's wages, even when it is essential for keeping the family out of poverty (Zelizer, 1994). In practice, this perception transforms the marital unit into a single economic unit dominated by the man, thus perpetuating gender power relations and the subordination of women (Vogler, 2005).
A variety of life circumstances of women from their intersections of social positions—such as gender, socioeconomic status, ethnonational identity, and religion—reveal wide-ranging experiences of economic abuse (Anitha, 2019). These intersectional positions differentially affect women's access to protection from the legal system (Peled & Krigel, 2016). Such intersections of vulnerability can be compounded by disability, old age, indigeneity, and certain cultural, racial, or ethnic backgrounds (Postmus et al., 2018).
In Israel, like in many other countries, the legal system has mainly recognized physical and emotional abuse but has not incorporated a definition of violence that includes economic abuse (Krigel & Benjamin, 2020; Peled & Krigel, 2016), making it difficult for women to complain to authorities. Indeed, the institutional context tends to silence economic abuse, viewing it as part of men's traditional devotion to the “good provider role.” Thus, the husband's control of the family finances is mainly perceived as natural and inappropriate for judicial intervention, and how economic resources are handled in the household is considered part of the private sphere of the intimate economic relationship within the family. In the absence of formal recognition, complaints to authorities are disregarded and women are often exposed to even more abuse as a result (Krigel & Benjamin, 2020; Renan-Barzilay, 2017).
Recent studies (Herbst-Debbi et al., 2020; Krigel & Benjamin, 2020; Peled & Krigel, 2016; Renan-Barzilay, 2017) have identified a link between IPV and replication effects of the state, which have not eradicated it or even moderated its strength. Krigel and Benjamin (2020) demonstrated the role of the state in increasing economic abuse as a function of reducing physical abuse. Women in their study reported that, following the intervention of authorities, violent partners often realized the limitations of their power and changed their behavior, from visible and familiar forms of violence to abuse hidden from the public, legal, and social eye.
Lack of adequate support in the form of welfare services, public housing, health services, adequate translation services (in the case of language barriers), and other discriminatory policies toward vulnerable groups can deepen their fragile situation (Anitha, 2019). Moreover, women may be vulnerable to abuse not only when their resources are low and their economic dependence high, but also while in the process of gaining resources, when adequate employment moves them to greater economic self-sufficiency. Indeed, sometimes gains in financial resources put women at greater risk of other forms of abuse at the hands of their intimate partner or ex-partner (Sanders, 2015).
The absence of institutional and legal recognition of economic abuse may have far-reaching significance for women from multiple marginalized positions. At the heart of the current study is a group suffering from structural violence due to their limited employment opportunity structure, as well as unequal gender power relations in the family—namely, Palestinian mothers in Israel. We thus focus on economic abuse that corresponds with the ability of these women to integrate into the labor market and to build economic independence.
The Welfare-to-Work Program
The study investigates economic abuse experienced by women from a deprived ethnic class living in the periphery—namely, Palestinian mothers in Israel—who attended the Woman of Valor WTW program. Specifically, we examine how participation in this program raises to the surface their recognition of this violence, as well as whether the program helps them overcome barriers, allowing the mothers to find an opening to exit their abusive situation.
The Woman of Valor program is under the auspices of the Ministry of Welfare and is de facto operated by nongovernmental organizations. Based on group instruction and personal guidance and offering preparatory workshops and brief training, the program’s aim is to deepen and improve the labor-market position of mothers from vulnerable groups by helping the unemployed find jobs and by helping the employed improve their existing work conditions (hours, salary, and job security) and gain access to better job opportunities (Yaron-Ambia, 2011).
The program has evolved as a “culturally sensitive” activation project operating on a community level. Woman of Valor groups are formed in dozens of communities across Israel, with high rates of families from a specific ethnic background. Almost all trainers share the same ethnic background as participants. All participants are mothers. This program is unique in its homogeneity in terms of gender, class, place of residence, and ethnicity. It therefore provides an excellent opportunity to examine homogeneous groups of mothers. This is important, as studies have shown that homogeneous groups of women may provide support and even motivation for action (Herbst-Debbi et al., 2020; McDonald & Day, 2010).
Methods
The study is part of a larger research project involving semistructured, in-depth interviews, held between November 2011 and July 2015, of 20 female trainers and 105 mothers (62 single parents and 43 married) participating in the Woman of Valor WTW program, including immigrants from the former Soviet Union and Ethiopia, Palestinian citizens of Israel, and Mizrachi Jews. This article focuses on 26 of 30 Palestinian mothers (the four widows were excluded as the source of abuse, if any, was no longer present), and the three Palestinian trainers, all of whom are social workers.
The majority of the mothers live in poverty, most being second generation to the vulnerable socioeconomic status. Sixteen were married, and the remaining 10 were divorced or separated. Most are Muslim (two defined themselves as Bedouin) and five are Druze, ages 25–42 years. One respondent was studying for a bachelor's degree, two had completed only nine years of schooling, and the other women had completed a full 12 years of education without receiving a matriculation certificate. Most (18 out of 30) were taking vocational courses (e.g., for secretaries, caregivers, and kindergarten assistants).
This study applies in-depth, semistructured interviews as is common in the feminist literature. This allows us to raise and explore ideas, thoughts, and experiences of women in their own words, rather than in those of the researcher (Reinharz, 1992). Data from the mothers were collected through two-part narrative interviews. The first part focused on personal background, such as age, years of schooling, marital status, number of children, employment status, and place of residence. The second part solicited employment history, exploring the spatial structure of employment opportunities and how gender and the family context affect participation in the labor market. In addition, given the possibility that participation in the WTW program may provide women with access to certain financial resources, we asked whether they could manage their expenditures autonomously or were under (male) supervision. The interviews with the trainers dealt with how they see their role, and that of the institution they represent, in the advancement of women and their integration into the labor market. We inquired about their own experiences, difficulties, dilemmas, and insights as trainers, and the experiences and difficulties of the participating women as the trainers perceive them. Finally, we asked if they envision success for participants.
Individual interviews, lasting one to two-and-a half hours, were mainly carried out in participants’ homes, although some were held at the local community center or the women's workplace. The majority were conducted by the lead investigator; the rest were performed by two research assistants. We introduced ourselves and explained the research project, guaranteeing the respondent's confidentiality (see Monroe & Tiller, 2018).
All interviews were recorded and transcribed. Following grounded theory, the recorded interviews were analyzed thematically (Charmaz, 2006). Most interviews were conducted in Hebrew, but some were in Arabic and translated into Hebrew for data analysis. We conducted multiple readings and, based on systematic repetition in the data (Lieblich et al., 1998), identified several units of prominent meaning, which became the main themes.
Findings
The themes presented below emerged in the interviews; they shed light on the research questions about the economic abuse which affects women's integration in the labor market, unemployment levels, poverty, and welfare receipt. In many interviews, accounts of economic disadvantage and poverty surfaced, making the need to improve these women's ability to achieve economic autonomy all the more salient. Five main themes emerged concerning the economic abuse, which together provide a broad perspective on the attitudes of the mothers and their trainers on the economic abuse directed against the former by their current or ex-partner, as well as the structural violence they suffer.
Economic Abuse as Undermining Employment Opportunities
Our findings indicate that patriarchal control of women permeates the employment market, replicating patriarchal supervision and women's dependence on the men of their families and community. As Palestinian women residing in rural areas in the Israeli periphery and sometimes lacking a college education, participants’ work opportunities are highly restricted, to begin with. Aggravating this situation, most interviewees report that employment in general, and the acceptance of a given job in particular, require their husbands’ approval. Usually, the job must be under the auspices of someone familiar, in a community acceptable to their families or a place considered respectable.
Ahlam, a trainer in the WTW program, addresses the unique structural difficulties faced by Palestinian women in Israel and the need to maneuver between these constraints to help them find work:
Among Israeli Palestinian women there is usually a large unemployment rate. There is covert unemployment and there is overt unemployment. The unemployment rate is usually high. It affects family life, it affects personality. A woman who works is a strong woman, a woman with self-confidence, a woman who can give, educate children and pass on this vocational education, the value of work. … There are many employers [outside this city] who want employees to work in the factories. But there is a barrier here that they do not want to go out of town, the majority. There are very few who agree to go out of town to work. … [There is] opposition from society, from family, there are all sorts of reasons they don't want to. We have not yet reached a state of removing this barrier or this problem. We don't want to cause them any more problems in the family. If I suggest something to the wife and her husband refuses, then I don't want to cause her any more trouble. There are actually husbands who object, “I don't want my wife to participate in this project.”
Some interviewees describe their husbands as gatekeepers who sort out employment opportunities for them, which in any case are highly limited. Rinal, a married mother of two, tells about the geographical restrictions imposed by her spouse: “… my husband doesn’t really like me to work outside the village.” Similarly, Daniya, another married mother of two, living in a small village, explains: “In the village there are no work opportunities, just in cleaning … [and] my husband wants me to work only in the village.” She also reports that, prior to her marriage, she worked for several years in a textile factory in Haifa (the nearest mixed city to her village) with her father's permission. Her husband, however, did not allow her to continue working there. In Daniya's words: “My husband doesn’t want a wife who goes to work.”
Daniya also relates that, following participation in the WTW program, she thought she might study something and find work in the village. However, she explains: “If I go out to study, I won’t find a job here [in the village]. And my husband will not allow me to go to work elsewhere outside the village.” Daniya is so discouraged by her husband's restrictions coupled with the lack of employment opportunities in Arab localities that she wonders aloud “why I should learn at all.”
Several interviewees said their husbands strongly restrict their entrance into the labor market regardless of the geographical location of the job. For example, Naram, a divorced mother of one, describes the power relations and control that framed the abuse she experienced:
Before the divorce my husband would go out to work and I was forbidden [to work]. Because he prevented me. He kept making excuses and it seemed like it wasn't right for me to work. It was more appropriate for me to stay home. He kept refusing to let me work. I would beg him to go to work. Not because of the money but … to enrich myself, to [do] something. But no, he always locked me in the house. The truth is, he shut me down and even … everything he would do, even going shopping was not … he would do everything. Both shopping and working and earning a living.
Others indicate that husbands (or other members of the extended family) controlled their participation in the labor market by vetoing the type of employment they could have. For instance, Manar, a married mother of two, says: “It’s hard to work in an old-age home. … For me, there’s no problem, but my family and my husband will have a problem.”
Similarly, speaking of the option of working in unskilled labor, such as cleaning, Lizet, a married mother of three, says:
I respect all the jobs and all the people who work, it's not shameful to work, but I don't feel I want to work in this position because I want self-fulfillment, and my husband won't let me do that [work as a cleaner] either. My profession is a kindergarten teacher.
Although she defines some occupations as inappropriate for her, Lizet's narrative nonetheless emphasizes the role of gendered social norms, where males in the family determine the woman's employment. While cleaning jobs do not require formal education or training, allow for relative flexibility in terms of work hours, and make it easier to integrate with the role of mother, cleaning work is not perceived as “respectable,” mainly because it requires leaving the village and having unwanted contact with Jewish society and because it is usually performed by uneducated women of low status. Lizet's words suggest the expectation of engaging in “respectable work” in keeping with her education and training. Hence, accepted cultural norms restrict the freedom of choice of women looking for work.
The structural position of women is a dynamic result of intersectionality between their inferior position in the family, gendered division of social roles, and limited accessibility to employment, deepening their disadvantaged status in the labor market. Some jobs require an advanced level of education, training, and social networking that the women lack. Certain jobs are prohibited by male relatives and gender norms. This form of economic abuse, involving violation of women's efforts to integrate into the labor market, impedes their development and has implications for their ability to achieve financial independence (e.g., Alexander, 2011).
Rabia, a Bedouin woman, a married mother of one, relates various forms of violence her husband can use if she were to insist on fulfilling her employment aspirations. In response to her expressing her desire to study and work, Rabia's husband threatened to leave her and even take another wife in a polygamous marriage, although later she discounts this possibility claiming that “Maybe he says that so I’ll be afraid.” In practice, she nevertheless experiences difficulties integrating into the labor market and lives under her husband's threats and restrictions, faced with a form of IPV. The threat of polygamy is significant and has economic consequences: The social and economic status of the first wife in the family is undermined and she is forced to share the roles, power, and resources available to the family with a second wife.
The economic abuse that is salient in the words of the mothers is reinforced by Laila, a trainer: “There are women who say ‘I won’t find what I want, there’s no job in the community,’ but actually in general it’s the husbands who don’t want to, who don’t consent.” Laila explains that the woman's entrance into the labor market is problematic because, by going out to work, she cannot fulfill her household duties in the manner expected of her. Beyond that, however, going to work is a threat because it brings with it the potential for economic independence, releasing the woman from dependence on her husband and his family.
The revealed patriarchal control of the Palestinian woman's employment sphere, as a form of economic abuse, is in line with Abu-Rabia-Queder’s (2017) claim that binary and dichotomous gender division preserves the patriarchal structure through the compartmentalization of women in the domestic space. As a result, women are subject to gender penalties that prevent the imbalance of accepted gender divisions.
Pocket Money for Women: Lack of Economic Independence
Pahl (1983) identifies various systems of income management, based on norms prevailing in family and community systems that differ in their approach to joint decision making and access to personal spending money. Many of the married study participants reported that their husbands manage most of the household finances, the exception being the wife's housekeeping allowance. This situation, in which the husband controls the family money and allocates a sum to the wife for daily needs and to manage the household, can be identified as economic violence (Hamdan-Mansour et al., 2011; Usta et al., 2013).
Indeed, some of the interviewees reported receiving a limited allowance, often leaving them in economic deprivation—clearly a sign of economic abuse. Says Laila, the trainer:
There are women whose husbands give them pocket money, like they buy everything for the house, and you have a monthly allowance of 200 shekels [about $60]. So what do I do with 200 shekels? One of the program participants said: “I have 200 shekels a month. My daughters need things he [her husband] does not agree to give, or he cannot give, and I have [only] 200 shekels. I prefer not to use it for myself but buy something for the girls, and I’m left with nothing.” For her, these 200 shekels are significant. …
Economic control by the men is not limited to the allocation of a household allowance; the women also report being criticized for how they spend the money they get. Manar, a married mother of two, describes it:
When my husband gives me money, he asks: “What did you do? Where did you spend the money?” Like, it makes me very sad, I feel like he doesn't trust me. I want a job, want a job for the money.
Manar explains that she lives off the money her husband earns, and if she needs more than usual—something for herself, beyond the needs of her sons—she has to lie:
[We] have no savings. It preoccupies me and angers me that I don't have a savings box to take from when I need something. Maybe I want to go out with my girlfriends, so I lie and tell him “I bought this thing” to take money to pay back [my friend), for example. [If my friend] invites me, I’m ashamed to go out and not pay. So I have to lie and tell him I bought something to get the money.
If Manar says the money is intended for her own expenses, she is subject to condemnation. Her economic abuse is manifested in the fact that money can be used in certain gender patterns.
Daniya, a married mother of two, says her husband's salary is deposited in a bank account from which they can take money when they need something. Nonetheless, she is unable to withdraw funds directly from that account, but only through her husband's mediation, and her husband is not always willing to allow her access: Q: Do you also hear “no”? That he cannot give you money? It happens? A: Yes, a lot. Q: So? A: It's hard, but what can I do?
According to Littwin (2012), one manifestation of economic violence is hampering the woman's efforts to become knowledgeable in financial matters, to access funds, or to manage them. Our participants’ narratives describe just such a situation, one which allows men to deprive them of money and to use patriarchal relations to gain more power over them. This affects gender power distribution over who can spend money, who decides on joint expenditures, and who has the final word in terms of how income is used.
Additionally, as long as couples maintain the idea that the man is the main breadwinner, the woman's income is unlikely to significantly increase her power over decision making because it will be treated as less important than her husband's income (Pahl, 1997). By maintaining this ideology, the discussion about economic abuse is blind to broad aspects of gender inequality in the general context of the labor market, such as unequal salaries and the tension between work and family that directs women to part-time jobs. These gender mechanisms become economic arrangements that result in unequal resources that each partner contributes to the family capital. Gender relations are affected by the balance of resources between partners.
Separated and Divorced Mothers Deprived of Financial Resources
Separated and divorced mothers participating in the WTW program described another dimension of economic abuse—namely, that they do not receive child support from their ex-partner. Fathers ignore their responsibilities, even though some of these women can hardly meet their family needs.
Elham, a divorced mother of three, left her husband's home penniless. She describes the economic abuse she experienced after the divorce:
I don't receive any financial support from my ex-husband, even my mohar [a dowry payment from the groom's family that it is customary for the wife to claim upon divorce], I didn't take. I sued him and he still hasn't paid me a single shekel … he doesn't pay a shekel to the children. Not even [for] clothes.
An additional dimension of economic abuse experienced by the mothers is losing their property upon divorce. Luna, a divorced mother of three who works as a dental assistant, describes her problematic financial situation. In addition to not paying child support, her ex-husband (and his family) has taken all their joint property from her without any compensation:
[My ex-husband] never works, just sits. … That, too, is part of the problems we had. And all the time … he didn't want me to work. … I suffered and … I don't know, sometimes when I remember, I say it's behind me, but it still left a wound in my heart. I can't forget. Sometimes I want to forget, okay, but I’ve taken enough. … He doesn't want to and his parents don't want to pay anything, the compensation we deserve.
Luna tells about the long abuse she experienced from her husband, suggesting that other women in this situation act to leave a marriage of abuse:
You won't believe what I’m telling you. I don't believe in clerics or the police or the courts. What didn't I try? What paperwork didn't I put on the table? I opened all the windows, all the doors, “just help me,” I said, “Get me out of this place.” No one has helped me. Even the lawyers, whoever comes in and wants to help with my issues, run away. … That's why I say that whoever's husband abuses her should not be silent. Worse comes to worst, you will get a divorce, and nothing [bad] will happen.
Similarly, Shirin, a separated mother of four, tells a story of severe abandonment by her ex-husband: “It doesn’t work out for me financially, you know? [My ex-husband] pays nothing. He ignores everything. He doesn’t even call the children. … We didn’t even see a shekel [about 30 cents].” Shirin's description of the economic abuse she experiences from the father of her children supports Krigel and Benjamin’s (2020) claim that economic abuse often becomes harsher postdivorce when abusive partners seek revenge or punishment.
When asked if she receives a child support allowance from the National Insurance Institute, Shirin replies:
Yes, thank God, but how much do I get? Two thousand shekels [about $600]. Two thousand shekels for four children. And I live in a rented apartment. Because he pays nothing. You know? … And I don't receive rent assistance from the state. In the past I did, but now they won't give me any.
In Shirin's case, the National Insurance Institute does give her a child support allowance in keeping with the Child Support (Payment Assurance) Law, but the law conditions receipt of the allowance on a very limited income (Herbst, 2013). Moreover, while rent assistance is available for low-income populations that do not own housing, access to this benefit is also subject to a rigid means test. All these conditions leave Shirin in a situation of economic abuse in the private sphere which intersects with economic abuse at the structural level.
The Dual Context of Economic Abuse: IPV and Structural Violence
The next theme expresses the reproduction of violence that women experience—directed at them by their intimate partner or ex-partner—through discriminatory legislation and state neglect. Some participants indicated that they are subject to a combination of structural and nonstructural economic abuse.
Fatma, a separated mother of four, tells a touching story of ongoing dual abuse. As the father of her children is a resident of the Occupied Territories, discriminatory Israeli legislation does not allow him to obtain Israeli citizenship or live in Israel permanently. Thus, dimensions of structural violence are already intertwined in the reality Fatma experiences. This is compounded by IPV, as her ex-husband does not financially support her or their children. On rare occasions, he gives money to her or their children, but the amount is very small. Moreover, without her knowledge, he was already married to another woman from the Occupied Territories and had children with her:
I didn't know he was married with children. After I left him he remarried in the Occupied Territories and now has a total of 11 children there. I don't take anything from him, nothing, he doesn't help me. When he comes [to Israel, rarely], maybe he gives me 100 shekels [$30] a month. I don't want to exaggerate, but it's the truth. He tells me, “If you want me to take care of you and help you, go back to the Occupied Territories. I don't want to go back there. It's not good for me and my kids don't like being there either.
Fatma tells a story of double abandonment: by the state's discriminatory tightening of regulations on noncivilian Palestinians, and by her husband. She and her children have no protection and are left to their own fate:
I have no income insurance [allowance for poor families] right now. Because my husband … he registered [the car] in my name [by law, anyone who owns a vehicle cannot receive an income support allowance]. At the National Insurance Institute, they don't believe us. That's the problem, don't believe us. Even though I don't even have a driving license. They know I don't have a license. The car has a lien on it, and for five years it hasn't moved from the place, it's just standing near the house.
Fatma's words echo descriptions of other economic abuse survivors that reveal how the state's actions, which do not recognize economic abuse and its ramifications, combine with the actions of the former partners to deepen the sense of oppression and raise obstacles to survivors’ rehabilitation (e.g., Krigel & Benjamin, 2020).
Woman of Valor as a Coping Mechanism
Within the chaotic world in which they live, the violence in the private sphere, and the structural violence embedded in their lives, some Palestinian women see the WTW program as a place that allows for a sense of peace, tranquility, and security, and perhaps hope for a better future. The supportive framework of a group of women, the possibility of recognizing their own rights, and the interactions between the women all provide a mechanism for coping with their abusive situation.
Shirin, a separated mother of four, points to the value of the Woman of Valor program in helping her cope with the economic abuse she experiences:
Q: Do you see in your job a better future for your children?
A: Yes, of course. … I hope that I will be in a better position.
Q. What other dreams do you have?
A: That no one will give me anything. I will not need. You know? That's what I want. …[The program] helped me find work. They let me be a strong woman, to be Shirin. I was not Shirin.
Shirin testifies that the WTW program can be used as a coping mechanism to manage her economic abuse, providing her with tools to fulfill her dream of economic independence.
Similarly, Fatma, a separated mother of four, who is currently unemployed for health reasons related to her many years of working as a cleaner, describes how participation in the program is a bright spot in her life:
It gives me strength. I talk, we talk, I mean I say what I have [in my heart]. I go home to rest later, I feel good … and it also helped me raise my kids. It helped me a lot. They would give us workshops like that. It's a little easier. How to talk to them [the kids]. How to raise them. … We are a family [the mothers participating in the program].
Fatma emphasizes how Woman of Valor provides an atmosphere that helps the women cope with their adversity.
According to Laila, a trainer, the WTW program promotes a sense of economic independence and liberation from the patterns of abuse the women experience:
I remember someone telling me, “I want to go to work because I want to buy cigarettes without my husband doing me a favor and humiliating me every time I ask him to buy cigarettes.” So, for her, the 500 shekels [$150] [she earns] were also good. For her, it made an improvement. … It's not an improvement financially, but it's still an improvement [in feeling].
Laila's statements point to the implications of the program for empowering women on their path to economic independence so that they can reduce dependence on abusive partners or move away from them.
Nonetheless, Laila is also cognizant of the institutional change that is needed to help these mothers out of their structural and nonstructural oppression:
I really believe in the Woman of Valor [program], but I have the feeling it's not enough. … We’re talking about [helping these] women, but I wanted them [the policymakers] to have more effective solutions for these women. Really, more suitable jobs. I really wanted to see the definition of a Palestinian woman in Israel when talking about going to work, not [only] talking about cleaning, not [only] about caring for the elderly, not [only] about assisting in a kindergarten. It really bothers me. I want to see women elsewhere, really. Really, what I told you before, Woman of Valor alone is not enough. I want to see an industrial zone in areas of Palestinian communities instead of the way Woman of Valor is working now, because it will be more efficient.
Laila's critical approach to the solutions offered by the WTW program reveals that, while she believes Woman of Valor does give the women tools to pursue economic autonomy, the mothers need more appropriate tools. Importantly, she claims the need for a profound change at the institutional level, one that is more favorable to Palestinian society in general and these vulnerable women in particular.
Discussion
IPV against women remains widespread, affecting women of all social locations and in varied forms. This study exposes an understudied aspect of IPV—namely, various types of economic abuse as experienced by Palestinian mothers in Israel.
With regard to the first research question, our findings indicate that Palestinian mothers do suffer economic abuse in both the private sphere (IPV) and the public sphere (the labor market and welfare laws). In accordance with the theoretical conceptualization of previous studies (Durusay, 2013; Krigel & Benjamin, 2020; Peled & Krigel, 2016) of forms of economic violence—structural and nonstructural—the study results suggest that Palestinian mothers face multiple forms of economic violence, interwoven in multiple dimensions of marginality and a deprived status.
Specifically, our findings uncover situations in which the male abuser maintains control of family finances, while the female has little say in how income is used, making her dependent on him for funds with which to meet their children's needs, her personal needs, and run the household. According to the narratives, such control is manifested in various forms: putting the woman on a strict allowance, forcing her to beg for money, excluding her from financial decision making, depriving her of child support, and restricting or blocking her formal or informal employment. The findings also reveal that some men withhold important information from their wives about assets and property, which impacts the latter's financial stability. Others ignore their financial responsibilities, leaving the women (particularly ex-wives) without means to meet their family needs. These everyday practices of economic abuse affect the women's ability to obtain, use, and maintain economic resources, which may threaten their financial security and their potential to support themselves and keep them dependent upon an abusive partner (see, e.g., Krigel & Benjamin, 2020).
Through financial restrictions, the male partner or ex-partner serves as a gatekeeper of the patriarchy through gender power relations and family decision making processes, blocking the woman's ability to achieve economic autonomy and integrate into the labor market. Thus, despite major progress of Palestinian women in Israel in terms of education and employment, many participants indicated a lack of economic independence and unequal access to family property and financial resources, reinforcing their disadvantage. This is aggravated by structural economic discrimination reflected in scarce opportunities in the local market as well as violation of political, civil, socioeconomic, and family rights (such as family reunification with residents of the Occupied Territories). Consequently, these mothers suffer from intersections of vulnerabilities—socioeconomic status, ethnonational identity, and family status—which affect their accessibility to protection from the legal system (see also Anitha, 2019; Peled & Krigel, 2016; Postmus et al., 2018).
In regard to the second research question, as to whether the women perceive participation in the WTW program as a platform for economic independence and a source of resilience, our findings suggest that participation provides minimal change. The protection and assistance the women receive from social services, particularly their integration into the Woman of Valor program, has been helpful, but it has been insufficient to extricate them from the economic abuse. The women's multiple marginalizations stem from structural relationships between gender, ethnonationality, religion, and status. These relations embody specific pressures that impede the women's response to the options offered by the WTW program and prevent them from acquiring an education that will free them from secondary employment and dependence on social welfare budgets (Abramovitz, 2006; Edin and Lein, 1997).
At the same time, interviewees testified that participation in the WTW program provides a social framework of an empowering female support group (see also Herbst & Benjamin, 2016), affording them strength and helping them believe in themselves. Furthermore, the program highlights the economic abuse directed at them and helps them recognize their rights. The findings thus suggest that the mothers are aware of the diverse economic abuse practices directed against them by their partner (or ex-partner). However, although the interviewees find the program supportive, without significant state protection mechanisms the women are ultimately left to their own fates, unprotected from men's controlling practices (see also Krigel & Benjamin, 2020; Renan-Barzilay, 2017).
The program trainers claim that, along with the strengths of the program, there are not enough solutions to allow these women to exit their abusive situation in the private sphere. These trainers are aware of the political abandonment of Palestinians in Israel and offer solutions the state must provide. Specifically, the trainers point to the continuing neglect that women experience and the employment problems in Palestinian localities resulting from years of persistent discrimination and poverty. Addressing these issues can form a safer ground with which it will be possible to eradicate or at least reduce violence against Palestinian women in general and economic abuse in particular. When the scope of institutional assistance is limited, despite growing awareness, the state ends up reproducing women's vulnerability and ongoing exposure to IPV.
Our study is limited in that we focused on one group of women who participated in a WTW program. For instance, we did not compare this group of Palestinian mothers to Jewish women participating in the same program or to Palestinian women in Israel who do not participate in this program. Future research with additional Israeli women who experience IPV and participate in Woman of Valor or other types of institutional programs can highlight more forms of intervention for women experiencing economic abuse.
Notwithstanding these limitations, this study sheds empirical light on everyday practices that Palestinian mothers in Israel participating in a nonmandatory WTW program experience in the labor market and in their families. As our study identified, the pattern of economic abuse remains largely silenced, despite the importance of this field in family and gender aspects. The narratives of the women in this study reveal how they are trapped between structural violence—a limited opportunity structure in an abusive labor market—and IPV, without state defense mechanisms in the form of benefits and other protection against economic violence on a personal level. Their stories reveal the different forms of economic abuse they experience and the ways they manage this abuse. The study also makes a theoretical contribution, adding to the existing literature on the intersection of vulnerabilities and economic abuse. Focusing on an ethnonational minority group of women, we highlight the connection between structural violence and economic abuse in the private sphere.
In conclusion, and following the claims of others (Krigel & Benjamin, 2020; Meler, 2016; Olufunmilayo, 2008; Peled & Krigel, 2016; Renan-Barzilay, 2017), to improve the economic status of marginalized women who experience IPV in the form of economic abuse, there is a need to develop long-term strategies that challenge prevailing social structures. This requires the intervention of government bodies and other stakeholders which need to adapt their actions to the cultural context. For example, state agents should provide women with knowledge, in their native language, about their rights and opportunities to escape from violent frameworks. They should expand services to protect women suffering from violence, such as hotlines, increasing support for violence survivors, public housing, and vocational training that will enable women to integrate into the labor market. They should provide culturally appropriate training for professionals who treat violence survivors with specific cultural needs. Institutional systems need to modify present social policies and practices, recognizing the status of women who survive IPV in general and economic abuse in particular. To help stabilize their independent status, free them of economic dependence, and inhibit their entry into future systems that replicate exposure to violence, such women require long-term and wide-ranging support (financial, therapeutic, and occupational) accompanied by a trainer to help coordinate between aid agencies. These conclusions reinforce the call to institutionally recognize economic abuse and to give women in distinct locations full protection from it.
Footnotes
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 received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
