Sympathy Work: Identity and Emotion Management Among Victim-Advocates and Counselors Kenneth H. Kolb.

Published online: 3 November 2010 Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2010 Abstract Advocates and counselors who assist victims of domestic violence and sexual assault often claim reivindicam e reclamam a moral identity that depends, in part, on their ability to sympathize with their clients. However, when their clients behave in ways that staff members perceive as difficult (i.e., lie, return to their abusers, break rules, express anger at those trying to help them, or fail to show up for appointmentso retorno aos abusadores, quebrar regras, expressar a raiva de quem tenta ajudar los, ou deixar de comparecer para consultas), feelings of sympathy can begin to wane. a diminuir creating a moral identity dilemma. Data collected from participant observation and in-depth interviews outline entrevistas em profundidade, contorno four generic processes that advocates and counselors engage in to overcome this dilemma. These findings highlight resultados destacam the interdependent nature of identity and emotion management and contribute to previous scholarship on how those who claim a moral identity negotiate feelings that run counter to their identity code contrrios ao seu cdigo de identidade.. Introduction Christina sighed, leaned back suspirou, recostou-se in her chair, and began to describe the behavior of one client she characterized as particularly difficult. Initially, she had helped the client regain custody of her daughteronly to watch her relapse into illegal drug use and lose custody again. Later, Christina admitted her back into the shelter abrigoon the condition that she meet with a counselor and a social workerappointments the client made, but did not keep. mas no se manter. Christina knew that healing sabia que a cura from domestic violence took time and was willing estava disposta to forgive the client, but her patience for this client was beginning to wane. Finally, after learning sabendo that the client was using drugs in the shelter, Christina told disse her that if she did it again, she would be asked to leave partiu saiu: It can be frustrating....[S]he came in, we did the screening, a triagem and we took levamos her back in. And we said, okay, were going to start over. Para recomear And, she may have stayed a week.... She started breaking all the rules in the shelter. She ended up leaving and she never... she didnt even get her things, she just left.Looking back, Christina remembered that she used to feel differently about her work and her clients. Indulging in a bit of nostalgia, she said I want to feel that feeling again. Advocates and counselors who assist victims of domestic violence (DV) and sexual assault (SA) consider themselves se eles mesmes.good people who help others in vulnerable situations. However, their identity is dependent, in part, on their ability to sympathize with their clients. When their clients behave in ways that staff members define as difficultlie, return to their abusers,1 break rules, express anger at those trying to help them, or fail to show up for appointmentsthey break norms regarding how victims should behave (Holstein and Miller 1990) and make it more difficult for staff members to see them as innocent and blameless sem culpa(Clark 1987, 1997; Dunn 2001, 2002; Loseke 1992). As a result, staff members may find themselves unable encontram-se incapazes to feel and display sympathy for the same people they have chosen to help, thus creating an identity dilemma. Advocates and counselors in DV and SA agencies can point pode apontar para towards their work with victims as evidence of their moral identity (a social rolesuch as mother or pastorthat defines someone as a good person) (Kleinman 1996, p. 5; see also Katz 1975). Like social workers (Loseke and Cahill 1986), their job indicates that they are caring people. Additionally, the troubling emotions they experienceanger, fear, loss, and pain raiva, medo, perda e dor (Campbell 2002)serve as additional evidence of their capacity to care. However, in some cases, it is the lack a falta of a particular emotion (sympathy) that can be the most troubling of all. Their ability to feel and display sympathy for victims sets them apart as good people. os diferencia como pessoas boas Without sympathy, advocates and counselors have trouble adhering to their identity codea set of rules or enabling conventions for signifying [an] identity (Schwalbe and Mason- Schrock 1996, p. 125). In this paper, I outline this moral identity dilemma and describe four ways that advocates and counselors are able to overcome it. Intersection of Emotion and Identity Work For advocates and counselors, sympathy indicates not only an understanding of how their clients feel (empathy), but an additional recognition that their clients hurt or anguish or worry machucar ou angstia ou preocupao " (Clark 1997, p. 44) is undeserved and unfair. injusto e desleal. As a result, empathy alone is necessary but not sufficient for sympathy (emphasis in original) (Clark 1997, p. 35). Feeling sympathy (and displaying those feelings through words and gestures) confirms their moral stance relative to abuse: they believe it is painful doloroso and wrong. Consequently, an inability to display sympathy puts their claims to a moral identity in jeopardy perigoso and potentially means losing access to the psychic and material rewards recompensas " (Schwalbe and. 1 I use the label rotuloabuser rather than batterer aggressor because this term allows permite for a more comprehensive depiction of people who control, oppress, and hurt others. oprimir e magoar os outros I also use the term victim, although embora there is a debate among entre DV and SA agencies about whether to use victim or survivor. Staff used survivor on occasion, but usually to refer to a former client who had succeeded in achieving their goals. Staff also used survivor to move away afastar from the stigma associated with victim (Dunn 2005).Mason-Schrock 1996, p. 126) that accompany being recognized as a caring and compassionate person. Because victim advocacy and counseling typically yields meager parcos rendimentos earnings salrio and public prestige, a moral identity offers significant symbolic compensation for selfless work. trabalho abnegado. The emotion and identity work of advocates and counselors has consequences for their clients, too. If clients cannot elicit sympathy from staff members at DV and SA agencies, they are even less likely to do so among the wider public. Advocates and counselors operate as moral entrepreneurs (Becker 1963, pp. 147163) who signify their clients worthiness for help. Their displays of sympathy serve as evidence that their clients victimization is no fault of sem culpa [their] own (Loseke 2000, p. 48) and that despite their difficult behaviorthey are innocent and therefore portanto sem culpa blameless (Dunn 2001, p. 288; see also Leisenring 2006). Clients who cannot adhere to the behavioral expectations for victims (Best 1997; Dunn and Powell-Williams 2007) not only threaten ameaam their access to sympathy (and services) in DV and SA agencies (Loseke 1992), they also risk having their claims denied negado in the criminal justice system (Dietz and Martin 2007; Dunn 2001). Advocates and counselors want to sympathize with their clients and see themselves as caring and compassionate people. However, claiming a moral identity does not guarantee that others will accept those claims (Goffman 1959). Consequently, we can

expect advocates and counselors to engage in identity work (Snow and Anderson 1987) to project an image of themselves to others, gauge calculando, how others interpret their identity, and tailor alfaiate their responses accordingly. The purpose of such work is to establish, change, or lay claim to meanings as particular kinds of people O propsito do "trabalho" como "estabelecer, alterar ou reivindicar significados como determinados tipos de pessoas (Schwalbe 1996, p. 105). Yet, identity work is not a singular event or an individual project. Schwalbe and Mason-Shrock argue argumentam that identity work is primarily a group process, or something that people do together (1996, p. 114) on a continuing basis. Thus, if the identity code of advocates and counselors entails IMPLICA offering sympathy to their clients, we can expect them to work together to remind one another how they should be feeling para lembrar um ao outro como ele "deveria" sentir-se- especially if they find their sympathy reserves lacking. I argue that this process includes both identity and emotion management. Typically, identity dilemmas are analyzed from the perspective of contradictory behavior that appears, at least on the surface, superfcie to be inauthentic; or, in Ericksons terms, displays a lack of commitment to ones self-values (1995, p. 127). As a result, when a person behaves in ways that run counter to their values, we can expect them either eles tambm to alter their behavior or offer accounts (Scott and Lyman 1968) to explain any perceived inconsistencies. Yet, feeling the wrong way can pose a potentially greater threat maior ameaa to ones identity claims than contradictory behavior. Inappropriate emotional displays may not be obvious to outsiders, but insiders know different. Those who share compartilha an identity are especially attuned sintonizando to subtle sutil inconsistencies within the group. As a result, group members may police one anothers emotions to ensure assegurar the integrity and survival of their shared identity (Schwalbe and Mason-Schrock 1996, p. 127). Hochschild defines this process as aligning ones emotions with the prevailing vigentes subcultural feeling rules alinhando suas emoes com os vigentes subcultural "regras de sentimento" (1983, pp. 118119). These rules outline which emotions real members should feel under particular circumstances. Smith and Kleinman, for example, in their study of socialization in medical school, highlighted the strategies students used to manage away unsettling reactions to patients and procedures para gerenciar at o fim "reaes inquietantes para os pacientes e procedimentos (1989, p. 57) in order to feel like professionals. Previous scholarship has outlined Bolsa de estudos anteriores descritos the ways that organizations who hire and train workers contratar e treinar os trabalhadores based on their claims to a moral identity sometimes ask more of them than they are able to accomplish. In Copps (1998) study of a sheltered workshop for people with developmental disabilities, deficincias de desenvolvimento, she found that instructors were often unable to infuse their clients with positive feelings given the structural conditions of their job (boring, repetitious work beset by long periods of down time). (trabalho, chato repetitivo assolada por longos perodos de "pausa"). In Kleinmans (1996) study of a holistic health center, the volunteers for the organization saw their sacrifices for the organization (taking extra shifts, sometimes without pay) as indicators of their moral identity; yet, they became angry and frustrated at their lack of influence compared to the paid practitioners. In both these studies, we can identify these predicaments as rooted in organizational arrangements that tax members ability to feel good about their work and themselves. They responded to these problems in patterned ways. Copps (1998) instructors peacefully pacificamente increased aumentaram their control over their clientswith limited success; and Kleinmans (1996) volunteers individualized their frustrations rather than question unequal desiguais arrangements arranjos in the organization. Both solutions managedbut did not completely solvetheir problem. One reason for this was that their options were constrained by their desire to maintain seu desejo de manter their claims to a moral identity. Although frustration at coworker sas colegas de trabalho or daily tasks can make it difficult to accomplish a moral identity, a lack of sympathy for clients can present an even more challenging scenario. Joffe found that abortion counselors, despite their initial sympathetic pose toward client groups (Joffe 1978, p. 113), became angered by cynical clients and repeat aborters. tornou-se irritado com clientes cnico e repetidas abortadoras. The emergence of such unexpected emotions shows how clients hold considerable leverage in determining whether such work can be experienced by counselors as morally suspect or heroic (1978, p. 119). Wolkomir and Powers (2007) study, also of abortion clinic staff members, described how difficult patients evoked undesired feelings that challenged their perceptions of themselves. Although easy patients were a source of satisfaction, hostile, ambivalent, and hard patients (2007, pp. 162166) made it difficult for staff to feel like good helpers (2007, p. 165). As a result, staff responded by detaching emotionally and building boundaries descolamento" emocionalmente e "limites de construo around the most troubling aspects of their interactions (2007, pp. 162164). Their experiences show that [h]elping others can be a risky business (2007, p. 155), especially when it comes to affirming a moral identity in the absence of sympathy. 4--This study builds upon past research that has outlined baseia-se em pesquisas anteriores, que traou the ways that those who claim a moral identity overcome their particular identity dilemmas. Wolkomir (2001, 2006) showed how gay and ex-gay Christian men were able to learn how to feel like a good Christian and to manage all of the negative emotions that arose during the learning process (2006, p. 119) of accepting their new selves. Group leaders engaged these men in emotion work (Hochschild 1979, 1983) to teach the men how and what to feel (Wolkomir 2006, p. 120) until they believed their emotional experiences were consistent with those of authentic Christians. Yet, what if these men had been unable to evoke the feelings necessary to affirm their identity? Holdens (1997) study of homeless desabrigados shelter abrigo volunteers partly parcialmente answers this question. When required to enforce fazer valer arbitrary policieswork they interpreted as inconsistent with their moral identity as egalitariansthe volunteers responded by re-fashioning their clients identities as immature and in need of structure. This strategy allowed them to justify their strict enforcement of shelter rules (such as requiring lights out at 11 p.m. and confiscating food in bedrooms) and still see themselves as selfless and kind people. Yet, Holdens study does not focus on how the volunteers elicited the emotions needed to manage this identity dilemma. My paper attempts to extend the analysis of these studies to outline four generic processes whereby those who claim a moral identity can affirm their identity when confronted with an absence of sympathy.ausncia de compaixo. As expected, generating additional sympathy for victims is relatively easy, even when they behave in difficult ways. The participants in this study did this in two ways: 1. one, by offering accounts to deflect blame away from their clients;

2.

two, by reconstructing their clients victim-biographies to make up for missing information that could justify their difficult behavior.

When these strategies failed, the advocates and counselors struggled to reconcile their lack of sympathy with their moral identity. They responded byoneenforcing a micro-hierarchical relationship between themselves and their clients as well as bytwo calling attention to their clients inappropriate emotional displays. These two refusal strategies allowed them to frame their denial para enquadrar a sua negao of sympathy as in the best interests of either the client, the reputation of the agency, or the DV and SA movement as a whole. Um todo By engaging in these four processes, the advocates and counselors in this study were able to point to either their generation or refusal of sympathy as in indicator of their moral identity. Methods and Setting The data in this paper are part of a larger ethnographic project. To learn about work inside a DV and SA agency, I first trained as a volunteer at a nearby agency for 35 hours during nights and weekends over a period of 4 weeks (in addition to two, half-day shadow shifts). After training, I answered the crisis hotline and met with walk-in clients once a week for 3 months.Through the contacts I established during my volunteer work, I secured an informational interview with a similar, although much larger, agency. I requested permission to study staff members while they interacted with each other and clients. All staff members responded positively to my request. They were eager to share their experiences with someone interested in their agency (partly because they found it difficult to find people outside the agency willing to talk to them about their work). They granted me nearly unlimited access and allowed me to take part in client sessions, observe staff meetings, and ask questions as they worked. I also participated in a number of activities: over a period of 14 months at the agency, I answered phones, made photocopies, ran passei errands, recados and on a few occasions I accompanied clients in court to seek signatures from a judge for their protective orders. Stopping Abuse in Family Environments (SAFE)2 is an agency that helps victims of DV and SA. At the time, June 2005 to August 2006, the agrved a local population of roughly 60,000 people within a 700 square mile area. Highly regarded by neighboring social service organizations, the agency won a regional award for outstanding service the year this study was conducted. At SAFE, most clients were white, working-class women, although I observed SAFE advocates assist African American and Latina women, as well as those from middle- and upper-class backgrounds. Men were welcome to seek services, but these instances were rare. Also, cases that involved DV outnumbered those of SA. The agency employed between 25 and 30 people who offered a variety of client services: a crisis hotline, court advocacy, counseling, support groups, and an emergency shelter. Off- site services also included an educational intervention program for abusers, community awareness projects, and a youth educational program. The data for this study come from the advocates and counselors in the main office and the shelter (all of whom I refer to when I use the label staff member).I visited SAFE (and their satellite offices) an average of once a week, for 14 months. As a participant and observer, I was present in the main office, shelter, or court about 7 hours per visit. Staff members introduced me to clients as someone who was researching the agency and shadowing sombreamento them in the office. I took notes throughout the day (which I-2 All names of organizations, places, and people are pseudonyms - expanded and typed immediately afterwards). I also conducted 14 interviews, averaging between 75 and 90 minutes each, using a semi-structured interview guide (Lofland et al. 2006). Interview questions probed staff members understanding of their jobs, their clients, and the emotions they encountered in the course of their work. I digitally recorded and transcribed each interview.All questions and observations during fieldwork were guided by an inductive, grounded theory approach (Charmaz 2006). I was constantly looking and listening...participating and asking (Lofland et al. 2006, p. 18) in order to identify themes as they emerged. To do this, I used a theoretical sampling method (Corbin and Strauss 2007, p. 143), which allowed me to follow up on cases involving clients labeled difficult and seek out opportunities to ask staff members how these cases made them feel. Operating from a symbolic interactionist perspective (Blumer 1969; Mead 1934), I paid close attention to the meanings staff members ascribed to their actions, including how those meanings were subject to refinement and contestation during interactions. Once it became clear that staff members were able to generate and refuse sympathy to some clients yet still claim a moral identity, I began constructing memos (Charmaz 2006) to analyze these data early in the project. The Emotional Subculture at SAFE The advocates and counselors at SAFE knew that signing on with the agency meant joining a unique emotional subculture (see Clark 1997, pp. 185193; Scott 2005) that outlined the rules about the feelings workers should and should not, feel and display (Martin et al. 2007, p. 46). Yet, policy alone cannot dictate how much staff members will sympathize with their clients in everyday interactions, as Clark explains: Many occupations have their own rules for creating sympathy margins. The rules may be imposed by management, yet workers also shape and modify the rules informally as they interact with clients or customers and each other (1997, p. 185).As a result, the feeling rules at SAFE were shaped by forces inside and outside the agency. Below, I outline three primary influences: essentialist notions regarding womens emotionality, DV and SA agency policies, and dominant cultural assumptions regarding victims claims to sympathy. These were not the only factors, by any means; but the influences of these three factors were the most visible when observing staff members emotional displays in practice. All of the advocates and counselors at SAFE were women. As a result, an absence of sympathy could jeopardize not only their moral identity, but their claims to femininity as well. Women are typically cast as emotional experts (Martin et al. 2007, p. 46) whose job it ispaid or unpaidto manage the feelings of others (Hochschild 1983). These norms are so pervasive that Shields argues that emotionality is the master stereotype for all women (2002, p. 45). Although sociologists of emotion disagree with this essentialist logic, the women of SAFE did not. They embraced the folk belief that women are by nature more sensitive, understanding, and compassionate than men (Clark 1997, p. 51). They routinely referred to these qualities as an asset in this line of workmeaning that an inability to sympathize with clients was especially troubling for them on two levels: as staff members and as women. On paper, the feeling rules at SAFEwhat to feel, under which conditions, and to what extent (Hochschild 1983)were set by organizational policy: a victim deserves sympathy,no matter what, and difficult behavior is a product of abuse, thus [h]er unreasonable behavior is not her fault No papel, as regras sentindo no SAFE-o que sente, em que condies e em que medida

(Hochschild, 1983) foram estabelecidos pela poltica organizacional: a vtima merece simpatia, no importa o qu, e de comportamento "difcil" um produto de abuso, portanto, "o comportamento irracional no culpa dela" (Loseke 1992, p. 22). Historically, DV and SA agencies have played a critical role in constructing this image of abused women (Martin 2005). *These agencies have painted an image of victims as pure, innocent, blameless, and free of problems (before the abuse) (Lamb 1999, p. 108) whose victimhood is morally unambiguous (Best 1997, p. 13). Davies, Lyon and Monti-Catania (1998) argue that this depiction of victimhood was essential to persuade community leaders to accept and support the establishment of battered womens shelters and rape crisis centers. Kelly, the SAFE co- director in charge of hiring, designed her hiring and training policies around this constructed image of victimhood. She trained staff members to forgive clients their failures on the basis that their behavior was a product of being deprived of power and control over their lives. This rationale, common among agencies like SAFE who adopt a Duluth model of victim services (Pence and Paymar 1993), emphasizes patience and compassion until the root cause of difficult behaviorabuseceases. In practice, this meant screening out applicants in the hiring process Kelly believed were unwilling to adopt a feminist analysis of abuse as a social, rather than individualized phenomenon. To gauge whether job candidates were capable of a feminist understanding of DV and SA, she looked for particular characteristics in the interviewing process: Im looking to see if they have the passion for [this line of work], if they come from a really committed, dedicated place, where they know this is hard work....And that they have compassion for people, in general...[and] are non-judgmental. To stay at SAFE, new hires had to convince Kelly that they were, in her words, warm and compassionate and understanding people. There were practical reasons for this. Kelly believed that offering clients a continual flow of sympathy kept them coming backeven when they made mistakes. At the same time, Kelly also trained staff members that too much sympathy in the face of defiant or overly difficult behavior could prove counterproductive and non-empowering. Given these conflicting instructions, it is unsurprising that SAFE staff members were occasionally unsure of how to respond to difficult clients.Decisions regarding sympathy in the SAFE office were also shaped by dominant cultural portrayals of victims and how much sympathy they deserve. Unlike DV and SA agency policies, the wider public still holds the victim responsible for preventing abuse or leaving the relationship (Berns 2004, p. 28). Outside of agencies like SAFE, victims are still characterized by low self-esteem, passiveness, and weakness (Berns 2004, p. 27). Lamb found that lawyers, judges, and police officers expect victims to be polite, composed, deferential (1999, p. 118), and Dunn (2002) and Konradi (1996) found that victims who defy these norms risk having their legal claims dismissed. SAFE staff members often critiqued these popular notions, but their interactions with clients revealed that they were not entirely immune to them. Clark sums up these dominant cultural feeling rules when she states that even those most eager to sympathize with others still have limits; they are are niceup to a point (Clark 1997, p. 183). They may be quicker to offer excuses and justifications (Clark 1997, p. 183) for others difficult behavior, but they still set boundaries and expectations for them. Although SAFE staff members were more forgiving of difficult behavior than most, their patience was not infinite.Given the competing influences on the emotional subculture at SAFE, it is understandable that the advocates and counselors occasionally had trouble displaying unlimited amounts of sympathy for each and every client. In the cases of particularly difficult clients, they confronted multiple and sometimes contradictory sets of feeling rules as women, as SAFE staff members, and as constituents of the prevailing dominant culture. The Moral Identity Dilemma of Advocates and Counselors Difficult behavior created a problem for the advocates and counselors of SAFE. They faced an emotional dilemmai.e., experiencing forbidden emotions that they are unable to manage (Martin et al. 2007, p. 46)which had consequences for their identity. On the one hand, they were called upon to display sympathy unconditionally. On the other hand, they feared that unlimited gifts of sympathy, no matter how difficult their clients behaved, could do more harm than good for their clients, the reputation of the agency, and the DV and SA movement as a whole. When clients exceeded their limits on difficult behavior, SAFE staff members were left to create their own strategies to manage this moral identity dilemma.Complicating this task, policies at agencies like SAFE generally warn against tough love strategies (such as scolding or reprimanding) on the basis that those actions mimic the callous or infantilizing behavior of abusers (Martin 2005). Many DV and SA agencies nation-wide (including the one in this study) avoid intervening or telling their clients what to do. Borrowing a concept from Duluth model intervention programs for abusers, staff members in this study defined abuse as the act of denying another person power and control over their life (Pence and Paymar 1993). Under this rationale, staff members believed that demanding their clients obey demands (no matter how well intentioned) was counter-productive, harmful, and non-empowering. As a result, it was frowned upon at SAFE to tell clients how to behave. Being on friendly, egalitarian terms with their clients helped the advocates and counselors derive satisfaction and meaning from their work. They wanted to see their advocacy and counseling as more than just a job. Heather, an advocate, was outspoken in this regards: I know what I do and I love what I do. And its my calling in life. Melissa, a counselor, echoed her sentiments: I never have to worry about what Im doing for the world. You know, on my death bed, I dont have to think back and say, what did I do? At SAFE, their moral identity meant they were willing to make sacrifices for their clients. For example, when I mentioned to Heather that a local defense lawyer had subpoenaed confidential files at another DV and SA agency, she responded that she would defy such a court order (if given the opportunity). Jesse, overhearing the conversation, nodded in affirmation. When I joked with Heather that I would not write down her answer in case my fieldnotes were ever subpoenaed, she responded proudly: You can write it down. I dont care. Ill go to jail for it. Following Heathers lead, Jesse announced me too. Staff members positioned themselves as differentmore caring, more compassionatethan outsiders. As a result, generating sympathy for difficult clients was the first, and most obvious, solution when moral identity dilemmas arose. Generating Sympathy In most cases, staff members had little difficulty sympathizing with clients. Knocking on the office door or calling the crisis hotline almost always entitled clients to a provisional victim status, guaranteeing them enough sympathy to withstand most of their difficult behavior. As Holstein and Miller (1990) explain, being a victim typically shields one from blame for most, if not all, of ones mistakes. This was typically the case at SAFE: staff members did not expect all clients to be perfect. Over 14 months, in private

interviews and discussions, they identified few clients as ideal. Many clients behaved in ways that the staff members described (in private) as unhealthy and counterproductive, yet staff members were usually able to see past small missteps. Clients whose difficult behavior persisted, however, taxed staff members capacity for sympathy. In response, the advocates and counselors sought out ways to generate additional sympathy for them. Of course, generating particular emotions was not their explicit goal. Rather, they saw keeping the flow of sympathy open as part of their job. They believed that listening to clients and acknowledging their point of view helped create positive working relationships, thus making it more likely their clients would return to seek more services if needed. When analyzed from the perspective of identity and emotion management, however, we can recognize that this process also served a latent function: generating sympathy for clients helped the advocates and counselors affirm their moral identity. The following processes of sympathy generation are representative of staff members interactions with difficult clients. Below, I present these strategies (deflecting blame and reconstructing clients victim-biographies) as distinct categories, but there was considerable overlap between them; in some cases, staff members employed both strategies at once. Deflecting Blame Elsewhere Of all the strategies to generate sympathy for their clients, deflecting blame was the easiest and most readily available. As long as staff members could identify an external cause for their clients behavior, they could help their clients accomplish an innocent and blameless identity (Dunn 2001) worthy of additional sympathy Abusers were typically the first target for blame. Yet, this became more difficult when clients returned to their abusers. Doing so placed staff members in an uncomfortable position. On the one hand, they saw their job as empowering their clients and supporting their decisionsnot telling them what to do. On the other hand, staff members worried that some clients might not recognize the potential risks involved. These findings are consistent with what Dunn and Powell-William found: despite training specifically designed to recognize battered womens agency and to honor all the choices they make (including staying), victim advocates have considerable difficulty doing this (2007, pp. 977978). One of Cathleens clients, for example, developed a pattern of leaving her abuser and then returning to him a few weeks later. Cathleen (an advocate) became frustrated. After expressing her dismay to the other advocates in the office that day (Heather and Jesse), Cathleen still managed to deflect blame away from her client and towards the abuser. Cathleen explained to her office mates: [S]he keeps coming back [to SAFE]. And I just get frustrated. Not so much at her, but really it is with him...[that] he has that level of control. Cathleen was able to generate sympathy for the client by placing the blame with him. Her coworkers in the office that day also helped Cathleen in this regard by reminding her that abusers often exert financial control over their victims and cut off avenues of support from their families, making it harder for them to escape (and stay away). This client was poor, like most SAFE clients. Thus, a financial explanation was easy for Cathleen to interpret and act upon. Collectively, by focusing the blame on the abuser, they framed this clients behavior as typical of a victim whose abuser denies her power and control over her life making her eligible for more sympathy. When they had exhausted the sympathy generated by blaming abusers, SAFE staff members looked elsewhere for potential causes of their clients difficult behavior. In one case, Heather found an unlikely source: her clients mother. The client had accused Heather, in court, of forcing her to file for a protective order against her willa serious offense. Even as Heather was being scolded by the judge in open court, she did not blame the client or express frustration. Afterwards, Heather explained how thinking about the mothers influence on her client allowed her to forgive and forget the incident in court. Heathers client stretched the advocates abilities to generate sympathy to the limit because of the egregiousness of the difficult behavior. Public accusations like this harmed the advocates reputation in court. However, redirecting blame onto the mother in this case was relatively easy given that Heathers explanation fit seamlessly with the dominant cultural image of victims of DV and SA as compliant and impressionable. Given the clients history of abuse and subsequent vulnerability, Heather explained that she was in no position to object to her mothers pressure. As a result, she believed it was reasonablein some ways preferablethat the client blame her rather than her own mother. Heather explained that she had expected early on that the mother might push the client to file for a protective order before she was emotionally prepared to confront her abuser in court. Deflecting blame away from the client enabled Heather to generate sympathy for her client, and take pride in her ability to withstand the judges criticism. Theres a point when victims are ready [to file for a protective order] and when theyre not...and shes not ready yet....Thats okay, it is part of the jobit takes the heat off [the client] and it makes it easier, especially with abusers, to say that we made them do it, we made them take out the charges....Its frustrating [smiles], but thats what an advocate does. By not putting up a fight in court, Heather believed she had provided a valuable service. Word of the case spread quickly in the SAFE office. Other staff members worried that the clients accusation might have upset Heather. One by one, they poked their heads into the advocates office and asked Heather how she was feeling. When other staff members began to express frustration at the client, Heather reminded them of her earlier suspicions that the clients mother did not understand the value of waiting until her daughter was ready to initiate legal procedures. Throughout the rest of the office, other staff members consistently expressed their admiration at Heathers ability to take heat for her client. Ironically, being berated by a judge enhanced Heathers status in the office that day. Given the opportunity to contradict her client in public, she refused. Her public display of sympathy (stoically accepting blame) bolstered her claims to a moral identity . Reconstructing Clients Victim-Biographies: Although deflecting blame from clients for their difficult behavior was usually sufficient to generate sympathy for them, some cases called for additional measures. Often, staff members lacked sufficient information to understand why their clients behaved the way they did. In response, they wove a generic narrative of victimhood between the bits and pieces of information they did have. The end result of this biographical work (Holstein and Gubrium 2000) was the reconstruction of what I call a victim-biography. They did this by selecting and highlighting the defining aspects (Holstein and Gubrium 2000, p. 157) of their clients past to reformulate a story line consistent with an ideology of victimization (Best 1997, p. 10) that depicted their clientsin spite of their recent behavioras innocent and blameless.This biographical work most often occurred when clients failed to show up for appointments or court hearings. Their absence evoked feelings inconsistent with staff members moral identity. For example, Andrea, a counseling intern who spent 6 months at SAFE as part of her graduate degree program, became discouraged when her client continued to skip her counseling sessions: I dont take it personally, but it is kind of frustrating.... The reason Im doing this is to help people, and [the client] is not allowing me.