A woman you know is being abused right now

Although many of us may not know it, October is DomesticViolence Against Women month.

Did I just hear a collective groan among some of myaudience?

Interest groups around the nation frequently designate monthsfor everyone to be “aware” and raise money, and talk,and think, and cry and scream. But not everyone is receptive tothis strategy.

The elect-a-month issue forum is to American ethos and intellectwhat McDonald’s is to the fast food appetite: a quick, greasy doseof an indiscernible substance that claims to be the real beef.

You’d think that with an entire month allocated to endingdomestic violence, women in this country would be safer in theirown homes among their loved ones.

But that’s not the case.

Most Americans uphold our country as a model to other nationsfor a hopeful, peaceful society. Many of us would declare ournation a bastion of human rights, devoted to freedom and equalityfor its citizens. But the most basic of human rights — theright to feel safe within your own body in your own home — isviolated in this country everyday.

One in three women in the United States will experience anassault by her partner during adulthood.

Stop.

Don’t be the fast and hard junkie who skims over thatstatistic. Think about it; one third of our mothers, sisters, auntsand daughters. In your sorority house of 90, roughly 30 of thosewomen will have a person they love commit an act of violenceagainst them. On your women’s athletic team, one-third ofyour teammates will experience (or already have experienced) anassault.

But I’m not going to try and inject you with warmcompassion. This is not a touch-feely story meant to invokesympathy or push some liberal-minded cause so don’t dismissit as such; free the birds, save the whales, stop smackin’yo’ wife.

What I see in domestic violence is not an issue for a Lifetimetelevision sound bite, but a black mark on the face of our countryand a dirty little secret we’d like to deny.

We have a variety of methods for looking past, around orignoring altogether a big, fat elephant in the living room. Insteadof asking why it’s there, we hope the overwhelming atrocitywill disappear. We revel in our self-initiated ignorance, andit’s a hell of a defense mechanism.

Most importantly, I refuse to point fingers solely at individualmen, husbands, and boyfriends who abuse and happen to murder morethan three women in this country every day, according to the Bureauof Justice Statistics.

Yes, I just said that with every rise of the sun on Americansoil, women are killed in circumstances classified as domesticviolence committed by a loved one.

Do you feel the weight of that elephant yet? Can you taste thegritty dust off its back, and smell of its stench engulfing thecouch and curtains, but still deny its presence?

Obviously, we aren’t prepared to admit that our ideology,our man-made beliefs about women and their place in society, allowsmen to think they have a right to commit violent acts against thewomen who love and care for them.

Grappling with the violence embedded within our society ispainful, and certainly worth suppressing or marginalizing to theedge of our country’s conscience.

Or we surround the problem with myths to help fight and subdueits power to harass our superficial values of equality and humanrights.

Statistically speaking, domestic violence knows no class and norace. I know that when you watch television it’s only poorwhites, blacks, Mexicans, Muslims and any poverty-stricken class ofpeople in general that beat their wives. The cliché is socommon we named a style of shirt in its “honor” andbestowed its appeal onto the lowly taste of trailer-park trash, andunshaven drunks in doublewides.

The more accurate demographic would include white collaraccountants, middle-class family men, little-league coaches,church-goers and millionaires who all vent their stress by treatingthe little misses as a punching bag and receptacle for a barrage ofdegrading verbal insults.

More importantly, abuse is not just the fist to facebone-cracking brand you find in bar fights. Words often accompanyand strengthen the blows without leaving traces of visible scars.Scratching, biting, screaming, pulling hair, twisting limbs andbackhands to the face count too.

Someone told these beaters that they could take out their ownaggression, fear, shame and insecurity on the nearest human being.A comfort level comes with physical and emotional intimacy. Thevulnerability felt in close relationship ties helps drive theseviolent abusers to strike their loved ones.

How do I know so much about it? From where does my authoritycome when speaking on this matter?

My father — a white, middle-class, responsible, dedicated,faithful husband and father who never drinks alcohol, holds asteady job and is fiercely loyal to his wife and children —verbally and physically abused every member of his perfect littlenuclear family.

The fact is his father beat his mother, and him, and all of hisbrothers and sisters. He is not a monster or the devil incarnate.He sought help to take responsibility for his actions, but I knowhe is like millions of other men who suffer from the affliction oftheir own self-loathing and lack of self-control. Women becometheir scapegoats and victims.

Men like my father are not a small group, or a select few, but amass movement within our society. I know many of you reading mywords have a story similar to my own. But we will not welcome pityunless we are willing inflect it on everyone because domesticviolence belongs to us all.

It seeps from every degrading comment made about women, andsaturates our relationships with one another.

The cancer of domestic violence feeds on male insecurity andfear in a society that seeks to define men not by their individualtraits, but by the traits we’ve forced upon women. Men aretold not to act, or be anything remotely like, “awoman.”

So, men in our society are perceived as weak or useless if theyare outdone or outsmarted by any woman. Instead of championing awoman for being highly capable, we tell men that a woman’ssuccess indicates a man’s ineptitude.

“You play ball like a girl.”

“Don’t be a pussy — be a man.”

“You’re so whipped.”

“Boys don’t cry.”

The list goes on and on. Some men strike back, and women arevictims of the long fight for equality that tells men they arelosing ground as women gain independence.

We must accept that our bizarre and twisted expectations for menand women are silly and obsolete. We must analyze and discern themechanisms and manacles of convention that entrap us.

Flawed perceptions of gender, masculinity, and femininity commitviolence against us all.

Move the elephant out of the living room. We can no longerignore its existence.