Domestic violence, much like suicide, has long been a taboo subject. Heidi Davoren looks at how the lack of media coverage has contributed to the misconceptions and shame associated with this issue.

I was in my early 20s and fresh out of university when I became the court and crime reporter for a regional daily newspaper.

I soon learned that most of what I saw and heard while covering these rounds could not be reported. Many of the cases that came through court were domestic assaults. Quite often the court rooms were closed to the media. Much of what I heard on the police scanner was in relation to domestic disputes, and legal restrictions meant these too were not to be reported.

Unless the circumstances were extraordinary or the perpetrator, or victim for that matter, was a household name and my editor could argue it was in the public's interest, much of what I saw and heard was never relayed to our readers.

A triple murder would get the public's attention. It might even make the front page and sell a few more newspapers, but unless there was a significant twist in the routine man-bashes-wife-for-not-doing-as-she's-told scenario, the domestic assaults were never going to make it into print. Besides, there were so many of them, if we covered one we would have to cover dozens, and the entire newspaper would simply become a morbid testament to familial and societal dysfunction.

As a young journalist, the lack of interest and coverage given to domestic violence created the impression that this topic was not relevant to our readers - domestic disputes were a minor inconvenience that took up valuable airplay on the police scanner when we could be chasing real stories like car crashes and drug busts.

I did not question the authority that enforced this media silence. So too was the case for suicides - we did not report them. They were taboo. These were the rules and I followed them. But as with most things, it seemed to me there were too many grey areas that called into question the suitability of such a blanket ban.

One night shift listening to the police scanner brought the horror of this issue home for me. I sat at my desk, with only a skeleton crew in the newsroom, and listened to them call in the rape of a woman in the front yard of her home. Multiple people called triple-0 to say a man was beating and raping a woman in full view of passing traffic. My stomach churned listening to the assault play out in real time as police were sent to intervene. I didn't grab a photographer and dash to the scene of the crime because it was classified as a domestic dispute. A husband was raping his wife - in public, with multiple calls to triple-0 and no words appeared in the next day's paper. Why? Because it wasn't newsworthy? If a brawl had broken out in the local pub, however, that would be a story.

The notion that a husband assaulting his wife is somehow different compared to when a man assaults another man in the pub or when a stranger is attacked at random in a park is an affront to our collective conscience. They are not different - violence is violence. Yet, there appears to be a general acceptance that reporting on "random" acts of violence is more newsworthy because such assaults could happen to any of us and are therefore more relevant. Conversely, if a husband beats his wife, stereotypes and gender norms come into play that make us question such relevance. They are known to each other, maybe she deserved it. There is a history. She chooses to be with him. Maybe she loves him. And the classic justification for our silence - if she doesn't want to get beaten, why doesn't she just leave?

The fact is our media and society have spent decades with their heads buried in the sand, and now, every week, two women on average are murdered in Australia, usually at the hands of someone they once loved. On the surface, it seems little can be done to stem that tide.

Our silence has contributed to the horrible epidemic we now find ourselves in where women feel ashamed to talk about the abuse and the perpetrators go unanswerable for their crimes.

For the uninitiated, it is not that the media is entirely dismissive of reporting domestic assault - the issue of privacy and legal implications can make the process near impossible. As 7.30's Madeline Morris recounted during a recent story covering breaches to domestic violence orders:

This is one of the reasons that the truth about the extent of family violence and its devastating impact on our community and individuals has remained suppressed for so long.

The sad reality is it took the horrific case of Luke Batty and the unwavering strength of his mother Rosie to force this country to look closely at the ideology and psychology around domestic violence.

Suddenly we have the first minister for domestic violence in NSW, a DV taskforce in Queensland, proposed changes to the ACT domestic violence laws, an Australian of the year who is a domestic violence survivor, and calls for a federal royal commission.

However, while there has been a marked shift in the way this issue is discussed and a definite push to have it taken more seriously, there are still far too many stories going untold. And as communicators, those in the media need to play a greater role in ensuring honest, healthy discussions around domestic violence take place - sharing our stories, however difficult that may be, is a key component to ultimately stirring debate and helping evoke change.

If you would like to know more about support services available for family and domestic violence, contact the 1800 Respect national helpline on 1800 737 732 or the Men's Referral Service on 1300 766 491. Women's Crisis Line: 1800 811 811. Lifeline (24 hour crisis line): 131 114. Brisbane Sexual Assault Service (24hrs): (07) 3636 5206.

Heidi Davoren is an online digital producer and journalist with the ABC Digital team.