We hear our neighbor shout, “I’m going to kill you,” and shake our heads as we reach for the remote. Surely he doesn’t mean it, we tell ourselves. She should leave, we think. She should get a divorce. Why does she take it? She should get help.
Why do we not think: He should get help. He should be arrested. I should help. I should call the police.
We blame rape victims, blaming them for their skirts, their thin shirts. We blame domestic violence victims: for their love, for their fear, for being vulnerable, so vulnerable that perhaps only the bars on a jail cell can protect them.
When
crime strikes in schools, in theaters, at marathons, we never blame the
students, the audience, the runners. Everywhere but at home we know that
violence doesn’t end through the work of the victim, the terrorized. We know
that when a woman takes that first momentous step to break ties with her abuser
is when she’s most at risk.
But
victims cannot strategize their own rescue alone, much as we’d like to imagine
that is true. We need to educate against
using violence. We need a coordinated community response to protect our
neighbors.
For
many years I listened to men talk about their violence towards woman. I worked
in a Certified Batterer Intervention Program where
men blamed their crimes on everything from invisible buttons unreasonable women pressed, to whiskey, to jobs, to God. My clients swore that screaming and
hitting their children taught them to be better people. My father belted the
hell out of me — they said as though beatings were proof their fathers loved
them. Perhaps we adopt what hurt us to prove our pain wasn’t suffered in vain.
Or perhaps it’s simply laziness.
I’d write down the words they used to describe their
childhood feelings when they were yelled at and hit: Humiliated. Terrified.
Nauseated. Wanted to kill myself. Wanted to die. “Is this what you want for
your children?” I’d ask.
What was it like to work with these men? Sad. Enraging.
Toxic. It was never just about being drunk or high, but being drunk and high
never helped. It was about power, control, and a violence that seemed
all-too-accessible.
Denial and shame blocked their change; changing meant
admitting they’d done hateful things to people they loved.
Many of my client’s children witnessed their violence.
Some killed the mother of their children. My father tried to kill my mother.
And even I, with all that knowledge, want to pretend these crimes are not
happening somewhere every day. We bury it deep enough to think women can do all
the work to stop violence.
I will never blame women for the violence inflicted by the
men in their lives. I will always work towards educating men and women towards
peaceful families and relationships. What I will do is offer words women can
consider when choosing a man, advice I offer as a mother, a sister, a friend
and most of all, as woman who worked with “bad boys.”
Choose kind over thrilling. It wears much better.
Choose responsible over devil-may-care. It will keep you
and your children warm and safe at night.
Choose a man who wants to be your friend, not one who will
be your life-long home improvement project.
And let us all teach our children not to hurt the ones
they love.
Please share and save a soul today.
Source: flvf.org
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