Violence UnSilenced on Momocrats, plus a VU refresher
October is National Domestic Violence Awareness month, and I’m thrilled to tell you there are several news outlets that have asked to highlight Violence UnSilenced. What you are all doing here is so important, and more and more people take notice each day. I’m so proud of you all.
Editor and writer Julie Pippert featured Violence UnSilenced today on Momocrats. It’s a lovely article and I encourage you to check it out.
I thought this might be a good time to offer a quick refresher on the Violence UnSilenced project. Please pass this post on; it is highly likely you know someone who needs it, whether you realize it or not. Domestic violence and sexual abuse/assault impact all of our lives.
* Violence UnSilenced features two survivor stories each week, on Monday and Thursday at noon central time. At this point in time I don’t want to run them more frequently, because I want each survivor to have sufficient time to garner support from the community.
* Anyone can have his or her story posted on Violence UnSilenced. You don’t have to be a “writer”, you don’t have to be a blogger, you don’t have to go through an approval process.
* This site is not just for survivors. Perhaps just as importantly it’s for non-survivors to listen to and support the brave people willing to speak out. Each comment is so important. You can also show your support and help spread the word about VU by “taking the pledge,” wherein you paste this badge on your website and I add your blog to the blogroll.
* Violence UnSilenced is not a forum. It is not a space for debate, or free and open discussion. This is a safe space, and only supportive comments are tolerated.
* If you would like to submit your story, email it to me at maggie [at] violenceunsilenced [dot] com and I will add it to the queue. Please try to keep your post between 700-900 words. Due to the number of submissions it may take me a day or two to respond. If you do not hear from me within three days please resubmit.
* PLEASE DO NOT POST YOUR VIOLENCE UNSILENCED STORY ON YOUR OWN BLOG. We can work together on supplmentary posts, but fresh material here is appreciated.
* I will never run your story without contacting you first. You will always have some warning, and the opportunity to make additional changes to your piece.
* Since Violence UnSilenced launched in February 2009, we’ve had a several month wait list. Submissions, with some exceptions, are run in the order in which I receive them.
* We have added a Wednesday Q&A feature. If there is something you would like to know about domestic violence and/or sexual assault, please email our volunteer expert Carrie K. at carrie [at] violence unsilenced [dot] com.
Thank you again to every single one of you for making this site possible. Thank you, Mojo, not only for the badges and your insightful comments and relentless promotion of VU, but for dealing with every single technical issue that arises. Thank you, Samantha, for your mad design skills and donated hosting fees, not to mention the barage of there’s-no-such-thing-as-a-stupid-question emails you get from me. Thank you, Carrie, for stepping up and running the Wednesday Q&A on your own, your only payment a whole bunch of grins from me. Thank you to every single one of you who has taken the pledge, who has left a supportive comment, who has shared and retweeted posts.
Most of all, thank you to the brave survivors. If you were not willing to speak out, there would be no Violence UnSilenced. I’m eternally grateful for your bravery.
As I said in the Momcrats interview, I firmly believe in the power of speaking out, in calling domestic violence what it is. I truly believe each one of us has a mandate to empower survivors by stripping abusers of their favorite weapons: secrecy and shame. I believe we can do this by talking about it constantly. Normalizing it. Really listening to and supporting those who speak out.
Thank you all for being the change.
***
For a reminder of what else you can do to honor National Domestic Violence Awareness Month, read this recent Q&A.
Survivor reaches out to stranger
I was at the pool with my 10-year-old. She was swimming and playing with her friends, I was lounging on the deck reading a book. It was semi-crowded and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Except for one couple. She looked tired and defeated. He looked agitated and twitchy. As soon as I saw them I knew what kind of relationship they had. He proved it within five minutes.
The “show” started with him belligerently belittling her. He said she made him look like an idiot by disappearing into the bathroom while he was talking to her, making it appear as though he was talking to himself. She was jealous because he was watching the diving team practice on the other side of the pool. He’s been around that all his life, he should be able to watch girls in bikinis without her interference. She’s lucky he tolerates her, she probably just wants to go out right now and get drunk and high. She’s probably looking at her phone to see if her boyfriend called. “F” this. “F” that.
And on and on and on. For over two hours. And no one noticed but me.
Watching them sent me back almost ten years to a time when I lived with a man just like him. Insults were hurled daily, I was deprived of sleep while he raged in the middle of the night, and I looked at the floor any time we were in public so I wouldn’t be accused of “checking out” other men. I spent my entire existence during those days trying not to make waves, but there was always something that sent him over the edge.
I knew what that woman’s home life was like. I had lived it. I had escaped it. She hasn’t been that lucky. Yet.
As badly as I wanted to walk up to that man and give him a tongue lashing the likes of which he could only wish he’d ever be able pull off…I didn’t. I pretended not to notice, just like everyone else, all the while sifting through the options flying through my head that I could offer this lady to get her away from him.
Along with figuring out what to offer this woman I had to figure out how to slip the information to her without him noticing. One thing I know from experience is that outside “help” can, and many times will, result in physical violence towards the victim. The last thing I wanted to do was make more trouble for her.
While I was trying to come up with a plan she gathered up her things and walked into the locker room, which is also the exit. She was on her cell phone; I thought she called someone to come get her. I was disgusted with myself for not following her to make sure she was OK. I was disgusted with myself for not making him shut up and leave her alone. I was disgusted with myself because I did nothing.
I was so disgusted with myself that I called a friend of mine, who is also an abuse survivor. And she told me what I already knew. There’s nothing I could have done. There’s no law against acting like a jerk in public as long as nothing physical happens.
I went back to reading my book, trying to forget what I had witnessed. It wasn’t easy but I managed to get back into the story.
And then she came back. She had been gone for about 20 minutes. As soon as I saw her go back to her lounge chair I got up, went to the front desk, and asked for a piece of paper. I picked up the pen that was lying on the sign-in sheet and wrote down the number to the local domestic abuse hot line, the name of the agency that runs it, and that it’s staffed 24 hours a day. I folded it up into a tiny square, wrapping my fingers around it tightly and keeping it out of view.
I held on to that paper for an hour and a half. I sat on the steps at the shallow end of the pool, near the entrance to the restroom so I wouldn’t miss my opportunity to approach her before she left for the day.
When she finally got up to leave, following him across the pool deck, I got up and went into the restroom. I sat on a bench and waited for her to come through the door. When she entered I asked her if she was OK. She looked dazed and say that yes, she was fine, she would be fine. I stood up and approached her and handed her the paper square. She took it and looked at me questioningly.
“It’s a phone number,” I said. Then I walked back out to the pool to collect my daughter so we could go home. As she was toweling off and I was packing our stuff the woman came back to where I was standing.
“I’ll be OK with a lot of prayer,” she said.
“It’s not OK the way he treats you,” I said. “You don’t have to live like that. I know, I lived with someone just like him. I know what your life is like.”
She nodded and said, “Thanks for this. I’ll look into it tonight.” Then she walked away.
I still don’t feel great about what’s in store for her tonight. I wish I could have done more, but as it is I did everything I could possibly do; more than anyone else tried to do. Maybe she’ll use the hot line. Maybe she won’t. But as someone told me earlier tonight when I told the story: At least she knows that someone out there gives a damn.
***
Editor’s note: Many domestic violence shelters have materials with a DV hotline number printed on them. They are usually printed on something subtle, such as a pseudo lipstick tube or a nail file. This can be a way to reach out to someone you’re worried about without putting her or him in danger. Check with your local advocate office to see if any materials exist for you.
For more on what to do if you suspect abuse, read here. Also, October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Read more here about what you can do to honor the cause.
Aimee Greeblemonkey
Do you know GraceD? I have always loved her Twitter name because if you make the “D” lower case it’s “graced.”
Have you seen her Community Keynote presentation from BlogHer this year? Prepare to be emotionally humbled.
As for me, I was more like emotionally staggered.
The tears started burning in my eyes when she talked about hating May – June. See, until I gained a loving father-in-law and had a reason to celebrate Father’s Day, I had always circled around that particular holiday with my eyes narrowed, wondering what was so great about it anyway.
Why did I hate Father’s Day?
OK, deep breath. I am going to come out and say something I have only hinted at before on this blog.
I was sexually and emotionally abused by my father.
Here’s the rub, I don’t remember a lot of it because of a condition called disassociation. But I promise, there’s enough there to really mess a person up for pretty much the rest of her life. Even given the fact that my father died when I was 11, and I have, luckily, and thanks to a lot of hard work by my mom, lived a normal life since then.
Before then wasn’t so great for us.
All things considered, we limped out of there pretty OK.
Enter my night terrors. This I have talked about pretty frequently. But in a nutshell, I used to have huge, grandiose, screaming, flailing night terrors where I was a harm to both myself and my husband. I used to have these night terrors several times a week. I wasn’t sleeping. Bryan wasn’t sleeping. This had gone on for a decade.
I finally found a therapist several years ago because we were starting to sleep in separate beds. That may have worked for Lucy and Ricky, but not for us. I had finally found a wonderful man to spend my life with – and I wanted to, well, spend my life with him.
I assumed the night terrors were related to my dad, everything always was, right? So we talked. And talked and talked. And I felt better. I understood more. I forgave. Not my dad. ME. I listened to Grace before Grace even entered my life. My dad is still in purgatory with me, but at least I don’t hate him anymore. Hate wastes so much of your energy; I just was so tired of hating him.
My the night terrors didn’t stop. So off I went for the weirdest night of my life, and finally turning to the crazy meds. In the three years since starting taking them – I have had TWO, count ‘em TWO, full-blown night terrors. Compared to the several per week I used to have, I’ll take those odds and I will take my pills. We’re kicking post-traumatic stress in the ass.
As I watched Grace’s presentation, though, I was mesmerized. I ticked off on my hands all the things she mentioned that I struggle with. Towards the end, I was smiling through my tears, thinking, SHE GETS IT. She really understands.
And that’s why I decided to post today. To let Grace and other victims know I GET IT. I understand. I am here for you if you want to talk in the comments or privately (aimee at greeblemonkey dot com).
There is also an AMAZING site run by Maggie Dammit for victims of abuse called Violence Unsilenced for people to share their stories and be there for each other.
So, thank you Grace, and Maggie, and my therapist, and my friends and my amazing husband for helping my make the steps on this journey and feeling pretty OK at this end of it. THANK YOU.
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Aimee blogs at Greeblemonkey. This entry is cross-posted on her own site today.
