Sunday, March 18, 2012
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Dear Son
Because of the violence in our family at the hand of your father, I never really know what to do, what to believe, when you act funny and strange when I ask you about the scratches and bruises on your body...
Are you just a boy uncomfortable with his mother's mothering? Or are you hiding something deeper...
None of them look like hand prints or fists, but still, I worry.
Are you just a boy uncomfortable with his mother's mothering? Or are you hiding something deeper...
None of them look like hand prints or fists, but still, I worry.
Friday, December 16, 2011
This Has Got To Stop!
I opened the local paper today and the headline article read “1 in 5 women hurt by rape”. Now before some scoffmiester starts whining that it’s just another inflammatory bogus survey by a biased group, keep reading. The survey was run by the CDC with the help of the National Institute of Justice and the Department of Defence. The article goes on to say that 1 in 4 were the subject of domestic violence. The word they used was “beaten” so that doesn’t even include the bozo’s who hurt with demeaning, thoughtless words. One also has to wonder how many women failed to admit they were victims for fear of reprisal.
One in five were victims of either rape or attempted rape. One in four were victims of domestic violence. So think of it. When you go to the grocery store, if you see five women, odds are one was physically attacked by her husband and one was raped (and probably beaten also). If there was a contagious disease that seriously harmed one in four women there would be public outrage until a cure was found. If one in five women were killed or seriously damaged by an unknown household chemical, there would be no rest until the offending item was discovered and removed
These are not just faceless robots, these are peoples mother, sister, daughter, aunt, and wives. I have four daughters, that means one of them was probably harmed by her husband. It makes my skin crawl. I still haven’t decided if that’s a bad thing (because I can’t get my hands on him) or if it’s a good thing (because my daughters probably don’t want their father in jail!).
So, what can we do? These creeps don’t have a scarlet A (for abuser) on their foreheads. We don’t have any way of attaching an ink bomb on their belts that spreads florescent dye all over them. They look like you and me. I knew a man that was beating his wife, at least I thought I knew him. He was friendly, help any one who needed it, the first one to volunteer for church projects. But one day his wife called mine and asked if my wife could play the organ in her place one Sunday (the lady was our regular organist). She said she wasn’t feeling well. My wife agreed but as soon as the regular service was over my wife went to her house to see if she could help out. That’s when she saw the bruises, the black eye, and the broken arm! Now you didn’t want to get my wife mad, you really really didn’t want to get my wife mad. She called the sheriff, the hospital, and then the leader of our church (bozo was still there in Sunday School). He was never alone with her again. Sadly, many stories don’t end that well.
The point is we can’t tell who these dirtbags are from looking at them. What we can do is see to it that a battered woman has a safe place to go, with her children. Most communities have a woman’s shelter. Most of those shelters are barely surviving. If we are to be real about wanting to end this war against women we need to help those centers. With money if we have it, with time if we don’t. We can donate our old cell phones, even if they have our registration and personal information removed, the 911 function still works and they can be given to women in danger. A restraining order is thin armor. If we can we need to be involved enough that someone is available to console and help the victim. She needs to know that she is not alone, that there are people who care.
We also need to start a harder task. We need to find out what kind of judges we have in our district. We need to find out if they consistently support women subject to abuse or not. If they don’t we need to do everything in our power to either get them off the bench or we need to make sure the public knows every time he turns his back on a battered woman. We need to insure that our police and sheriff’s department understand that woman is the victim!
One in five isn’t a trend it’s an epidemic! One in four isn’t just a statistic, it’s a damning commentary on our society. I don’t have all the answers. No one does, and every case is unique. But I know this. I have four daughters and THIS HAS GOT TO STOP!
One in five were victims of either rape or attempted rape. One in four were victims of domestic violence. So think of it. When you go to the grocery store, if you see five women, odds are one was physically attacked by her husband and one was raped (and probably beaten also). If there was a contagious disease that seriously harmed one in four women there would be public outrage until a cure was found. If one in five women were killed or seriously damaged by an unknown household chemical, there would be no rest until the offending item was discovered and removed
These are not just faceless robots, these are peoples mother, sister, daughter, aunt, and wives. I have four daughters, that means one of them was probably harmed by her husband. It makes my skin crawl. I still haven’t decided if that’s a bad thing (because I can’t get my hands on him) or if it’s a good thing (because my daughters probably don’t want their father in jail!).
So, what can we do? These creeps don’t have a scarlet A (for abuser) on their foreheads. We don’t have any way of attaching an ink bomb on their belts that spreads florescent dye all over them. They look like you and me. I knew a man that was beating his wife, at least I thought I knew him. He was friendly, help any one who needed it, the first one to volunteer for church projects. But one day his wife called mine and asked if my wife could play the organ in her place one Sunday (the lady was our regular organist). She said she wasn’t feeling well. My wife agreed but as soon as the regular service was over my wife went to her house to see if she could help out. That’s when she saw the bruises, the black eye, and the broken arm! Now you didn’t want to get my wife mad, you really really didn’t want to get my wife mad. She called the sheriff, the hospital, and then the leader of our church (bozo was still there in Sunday School). He was never alone with her again. Sadly, many stories don’t end that well.
The point is we can’t tell who these dirtbags are from looking at them. What we can do is see to it that a battered woman has a safe place to go, with her children. Most communities have a woman’s shelter. Most of those shelters are barely surviving. If we are to be real about wanting to end this war against women we need to help those centers. With money if we have it, with time if we don’t. We can donate our old cell phones, even if they have our registration and personal information removed, the 911 function still works and they can be given to women in danger. A restraining order is thin armor. If we can we need to be involved enough that someone is available to console and help the victim. She needs to know that she is not alone, that there are people who care.
We also need to start a harder task. We need to find out what kind of judges we have in our district. We need to find out if they consistently support women subject to abuse or not. If they don’t we need to do everything in our power to either get them off the bench or we need to make sure the public knows every time he turns his back on a battered woman. We need to insure that our police and sheriff’s department understand that woman is the victim!
One in five isn’t a trend it’s an epidemic! One in four isn’t just a statistic, it’s a damning commentary on our society. I don’t have all the answers. No one does, and every case is unique. But I know this. I have four daughters and THIS HAS GOT TO STOP!
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
The Holidays For Separated Domestic Violence Families
The holidays are here. For those of us who have survived domestic violence and share children from that partnership, this is an especially trying time.
Forgetting, for now the increased financial difficulties of travel, holiday gift giving costs and child support, there's the very real problem of visitation times themselves.
For most of us, there are no protections; courts no longer feel restraining orders are "reasonable" for families who divorce and share children. As a result, we are required -- if we want to see our children -- to share physical space with those who abused us.
Most "how to deal with being divorced parents" sites and literature, and, in fact, persons who counsel or advise in these matters are filled with little sound bites of information about how you just have to act normal at these times. Be it Christmas, a school graduation, a wedding, you and your ex just have to politely co-exist. While it certainly is true that you want to get along so that you don't harm your children with arguments (or worse), and that adopting a casual attitude of positivity is the best way to attempt this, let's be real here. You are not merely exes, not former lovers, not a couple who suffered a break-up; you are the victim facing the man who attacked and abused you.
You're not the victim of random violence, a person in the wrong place at the wrong time; you're a person harmed and even hunted by the man who promised to cherish you forever, the man you shared secrets with, the man you trusted, the man you had children with.
It's as personal as it gets.
But now, here you are. Lucky enough to have survived, but unlucky enough to be tied to this man for the lifetime of your shared offspring -- not because it's natural, but because this unnatural requirement to stand before this man, the child or children you produced between you, has been dictated to you by a completely f-ed up system that somehow arbitrates the situation as "fair" and "best."
So you fight to override your emotional and physical fight or flight responses; you can forgive, but the body and psyche don't forget. (Even if you forgive, who asks any victim to spend time with the one who victimized them -- let alone be nice and pleasant about it?)
You fight sanity and do your best to show the dictated "healthy" interaction -- which only role models insanity, along with a perverse sense of "appropriate" response to danger. To the very children you vowed to protect and educate.
You fight to present "normal" in a situation which is anything but.
While you stand there, undulating from the conflicting messages (those from your body and those you've been taught about danger and safety), taking the abuse being dished out (and, honey, yes, he'll relish your forced captivity and delight in holding you hostage to it), dizzy with wonder that this is part of dispensed justice, you also have to worry about what you are projecting.
You must appear pleasantly docile. Any signs to the contrary, and he'll lodge a complaint regarding your non-compliance to authorities. (Heck, he might do that regardless; so it's best to be accompanied for your legal and emotional safety.)
Your visitation meeting mask must also be blank enough that you neither scare nor further indoctrinate your children that horrible behaviors are to be tolerated. For while you must remain "nice" and "normal" at the time of the meeting, you should also be prepared to discuss with your child -- in an appropriate manner -- what is not acceptable. Or at least what is considered not acceptable by the rest of the world, so that they may at least attempt to set boundaries of physical and emotional safety.
Yes, you're restrained from keeping yourself safe, muzzled and bound to more silence; but what's worse, is that your hands are tied when it comes to educating your children on how to be safe.
This is a large part of continuing the cycle of domestic violence: the children are trained to accept it.
Knowing that, only makes it all worse.
The injustice of what you areasked required to do burns.
But you simply cannot show it.
If you do, you will be held up as yet another example of a woman who doesn't know her place. No wonder he had to hit her. The court system has no patience for women who don't follow their mandated rules.
Visitation times are more examples of your powerlessness -- and that abuse never ends.
How do you not let all that consume your holidays?
With patience, intelligence, grace, and gratitude.
And the support of others who know.
Forgetting, for now the increased financial difficulties of travel, holiday gift giving costs and child support, there's the very real problem of visitation times themselves.
For most of us, there are no protections; courts no longer feel restraining orders are "reasonable" for families who divorce and share children. As a result, we are required -- if we want to see our children -- to share physical space with those who abused us.
Most "how to deal with being divorced parents" sites and literature, and, in fact, persons who counsel or advise in these matters are filled with little sound bites of information about how you just have to act normal at these times. Be it Christmas, a school graduation, a wedding, you and your ex just have to politely co-exist. While it certainly is true that you want to get along so that you don't harm your children with arguments (or worse), and that adopting a casual attitude of positivity is the best way to attempt this, let's be real here. You are not merely exes, not former lovers, not a couple who suffered a break-up; you are the victim facing the man who attacked and abused you.
You're not the victim of random violence, a person in the wrong place at the wrong time; you're a person harmed and even hunted by the man who promised to cherish you forever, the man you shared secrets with, the man you trusted, the man you had children with.
It's as personal as it gets.
But now, here you are. Lucky enough to have survived, but unlucky enough to be tied to this man for the lifetime of your shared offspring -- not because it's natural, but because this unnatural requirement to stand before this man, the child or children you produced between you, has been dictated to you by a completely f-ed up system that somehow arbitrates the situation as "fair" and "best."
So you fight to override your emotional and physical fight or flight responses; you can forgive, but the body and psyche don't forget. (Even if you forgive, who asks any victim to spend time with the one who victimized them -- let alone be nice and pleasant about it?)
You fight sanity and do your best to show the dictated "healthy" interaction -- which only role models insanity, along with a perverse sense of "appropriate" response to danger. To the very children you vowed to protect and educate.
You fight to present "normal" in a situation which is anything but.
While you stand there, undulating from the conflicting messages (those from your body and those you've been taught about danger and safety), taking the abuse being dished out (and, honey, yes, he'll relish your forced captivity and delight in holding you hostage to it), dizzy with wonder that this is part of dispensed justice, you also have to worry about what you are projecting.
You must appear pleasantly docile. Any signs to the contrary, and he'll lodge a complaint regarding your non-compliance to authorities. (Heck, he might do that regardless; so it's best to be accompanied for your legal and emotional safety.)
Your visitation meeting mask must also be blank enough that you neither scare nor further indoctrinate your children that horrible behaviors are to be tolerated. For while you must remain "nice" and "normal" at the time of the meeting, you should also be prepared to discuss with your child -- in an appropriate manner -- what is not acceptable. Or at least what is considered not acceptable by the rest of the world, so that they may at least attempt to set boundaries of physical and emotional safety.
Yes, you're restrained from keeping yourself safe, muzzled and bound to more silence; but what's worse, is that your hands are tied when it comes to educating your children on how to be safe.
This is a large part of continuing the cycle of domestic violence: the children are trained to accept it.
Knowing that, only makes it all worse.
The injustice of what you are
But you simply cannot show it.
If you do, you will be held up as yet another example of a woman who doesn't know her place. No wonder he had to hit her. The court system has no patience for women who don't follow their mandated rules.
Visitation times are more examples of your powerlessness -- and that abuse never ends.
How do you not let all that consume your holidays?
With patience, intelligence, grace, and gratitude.
And the support of others who know.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Silence
Can you hear silence?
An odd question perhaps but the idea for that question came to me several days ago. I was in a restaurant that I go to often. The woman who waited on our table that day was one of the owners. Over time we, my wife and I and the woman have become casual friends. I have met her husband who we frequently see at the restaurant also. As she came to the table with our menus I noticed she had a black eye and a cut with several stitches over her eyebrow. Immediately the flags came up and I asked her, “Are you okay?” There must have been something in my tone of voice that told her I was not just asking the normal how’s your day going kind of question. She quickly responded with, “Oh, you mean this”, pointing to her eye. I said, “Yes, is everything all right?” After telling me how she hit her head on a doorway playing with her dog, a rather large Husky/Shepard mix she said “You didn’t think…” leaving the question unfinished.
My response was “I had to ask.” Right after I said that I realized I had reached a turning point in my life. I have responded to several posts including on this blog that the abusers in this world count on being anonymous. They count on the rest of the world to turn away, to not become involved. They know that most people would prefer to just “stay out of it”. They know that most people prefer to remain silent. Abusers love the dark, the hidden, the silence.
I asked the question “Can you hear silence.” In the case of abuse it has sound. Silence sounds like the thump of a body slammed against the wall. Silence has the sound a hand slapping a face. Silence has the sound of bone against bone and bones breaking. Silence has the sound of a little child yelling, screaming “Stop hurting my Mommy!” Silence is the sound of a person quietly crying in a dark corner, very quietly lest the abuser will hear it and start another round. Silence is the almost imperceptible sound of a tear hitting the floor.
The silence I refer to is NOT the sound of the abuse. It is the sound of those who know of it and say nothing. It is the sound of those who say “It’s her fault for putting up with it”. It is the sound of people who mumble, “Tsk, Tsk, what is the world coming to?” Silence is the sound of those who are afraid to say something because they might be embarrassed if they are wrong. Silence is the sound of a man (if you can call him that) who says to himself, “That’s between him and her, none of my business.” Silence is the sound of a woman thinking she’s glad it’s someone else, not her.
Yes, I realized I had reached a turning point. I can be silent no longer.
I’ve seen what you refuse to.
I had to ask.
An odd question perhaps but the idea for that question came to me several days ago. I was in a restaurant that I go to often. The woman who waited on our table that day was one of the owners. Over time we, my wife and I and the woman have become casual friends. I have met her husband who we frequently see at the restaurant also. As she came to the table with our menus I noticed she had a black eye and a cut with several stitches over her eyebrow. Immediately the flags came up and I asked her, “Are you okay?” There must have been something in my tone of voice that told her I was not just asking the normal how’s your day going kind of question. She quickly responded with, “Oh, you mean this”, pointing to her eye. I said, “Yes, is everything all right?” After telling me how she hit her head on a doorway playing with her dog, a rather large Husky/Shepard mix she said “You didn’t think…” leaving the question unfinished.
My response was “I had to ask.” Right after I said that I realized I had reached a turning point in my life. I have responded to several posts including on this blog that the abusers in this world count on being anonymous. They count on the rest of the world to turn away, to not become involved. They know that most people would prefer to just “stay out of it”. They know that most people prefer to remain silent. Abusers love the dark, the hidden, the silence.
I asked the question “Can you hear silence.” In the case of abuse it has sound. Silence sounds like the thump of a body slammed against the wall. Silence has the sound a hand slapping a face. Silence has the sound of bone against bone and bones breaking. Silence has the sound of a little child yelling, screaming “Stop hurting my Mommy!” Silence is the sound of a person quietly crying in a dark corner, very quietly lest the abuser will hear it and start another round. Silence is the almost imperceptible sound of a tear hitting the floor.
The silence I refer to is NOT the sound of the abuse. It is the sound of those who know of it and say nothing. It is the sound of those who say “It’s her fault for putting up with it”. It is the sound of people who mumble, “Tsk, Tsk, what is the world coming to?” Silence is the sound of those who are afraid to say something because they might be embarrassed if they are wrong. Silence is the sound of a man (if you can call him that) who says to himself, “That’s between him and her, none of my business.” Silence is the sound of a woman thinking she’s glad it’s someone else, not her.
Yes, I realized I had reached a turning point. I can be silent no longer.
I’ve seen what you refuse to.
I had to ask.
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