Bruises: A Litany
by Guest Contributor Fiqah, originally published at Possum Stew
*Trigger Warning*
I don’t know how to tell you this. There’s so much I can’t say.
I didn’t want to write this ever. I wanted to forget today even happened at all. I wanted to continue on with my shit today and ignore the incident guiding my fingertips in a furious, staccato blur across my keyboard right now. I wanted, for just one day (please God please God please please ANY listening God) to Live My Life. Without bullshitting myself with this little daily meditation for guarding the hope that lives in my heart.
But some days, dear reader, I’m weak. And I. Just. Can’t. I’m not Atlas. I’m just Fiqah. My shoulders are really about to give out.
I don’t know how to tell you this. There’s so much I can’t say.
Maybe I should just tell you what happened.
This afternoon, I decided to do a few loads of laundry. After throwing a few lighter necessities into my laundry bag, I headed to my elevator bank, stopping for a moment to be grateful that I live in a building with three elevators. (This is something anybody who has ever lived in a New York City walk-up does after they move into a building with an elevator, by the way, especially when doing errands.) I pressed the call button and waited for the middle elevator to descend from the floors above. When the doors opened, I was pleasantly startled to see one of my neighbors standing there.
“Oh! Hello, how are you?” I chirped, a smile of greeting on my face.
My neighbor, a stunning older Latina woman with pale golden skin, high cheekbones and a riot of sandy curls, nodded curtly to me. I was taken aback: typically, my neighbor greets me with her own dazzling smile in return, warmly, with sustained eye contact. She’s usually TOO nice with her hello, in the overly-solicitous manner that lighter-skinned women of color greet darker-skinned ones, in that way that says, “Please don’t hate me on sight. I’m not a stuck-up bitch. I’m not looking down on you. I’m your sister, too.” (I think this is part of why I like her; having been on the giving and receiving end of this dynamic at different points in my life, I understand. It’s hard to explain to anyone who isn’t a Black woman.) Slightly put-out, I settled slightly behind her into the opposite corner of the elevator, wondering what had crawled up HER butt and died.
That’s when I saw it.
A puffy lump of crescent-shaped malevolence, a horrible visual cacophony of purples, reds and smudgy black. It peeked out from under the Chanel aviators she wore, razzing any onlookers, marring her beauty. My eyes widened as I looked at the rest of her face: her bottom lip, slightly split, appeared mostly-healed. It tightened as she drew herself up to her full height, stiffened her spine, and patently ignored me, exhaling loudly, as if I had asked the question that resounded so loudly in that tiny space. “What the FUCK are YOU lookin’ at, bitch?!” her posture screamed.
My eyes, dazed, floated to her shoulders, rounding in towards her chest, protecting her heart. “I know what you see,” they whispered. I looked away, focused on the door until we reached the lobby. She got out first, high heels clipping a sassy echo in the hallway that defied judgments levied against the walker. I remained, dazed and frozen: I had forgotten why I had come downstairs. The door closed, while I stood there, trying to remember where I was going. On my back, my bag slipped a little, nudging me back to reality. I pressed the “Door Open” button and stepped out, heading towards the cool quiet of the empty laundry room.
As I loaded my clothes into the super washer, my thoughts swirled madly in my head. Unbidden memories of things long (and best) forgotten sprang forth as I watched my clothes whip themselves into sudsy purity. I had felt this way before. I knew this feeling well. Bearing mute witness to horror, and feeling powerless to stop it.
I don’t know how to tell you this. There’s so much I can’t say.
It was spring of 1986, a weekend afternoon.
I was eight years old, and my little brother was six.
My mother was working, rounding out her usual 60 hour week at IBM, while one of her friends baby-sat for us. This particular friend was the owner of a lovely three-bedroom home in a quiet suburban enclave that seemed superior to our neighborhood in every way. The lawns were green and meticulously-kept, and every house in the cul-de-sac boasted pristine, glistening backyard pools. Being a fledgling swimmer, I was especially in love with the pool, which was enclosed by a screened deck, and overlooked a canal that often hosted blue herons as well as the rare sunning alligator. Better than all that, a friend of mine from class lived two houses down, so I had someone to play with when we visited. (This particular playmate was White, and apparently her parents had discouraged her from having me over…but wouldn’t tell her why. In a move of teenage rebellion and sibling solidarity, her older sister made it a point to hang out with us, make Jiffy Pop, watch movies, and invite me to their pool.) It was a Good, Safe Place. Even now, I smile wryly at this notion. No place was ever truly Good. No space was ever really Safe. But I needed to believe this. I needed to believe something. My innocence, murdered but not completely dead, in its death throes, wanted so badly to live.
I don’t know how to tell you this. There’s so much I can’t say.
On this otherwise unremarkable day, my little brother and I had just enjoyed a swim in the pool, and were now scouting the neighborhood for other kids. Our curiosity brought us to a loud fight on the other side of the neatly-trimmed bushes separating my mother’s friend’s house from her next door neighbor’s. A man’s voice, deep, loud and menacing, reached us.
“LEAVE the FUCKING dirt ALONE, Alice!” he said, his voice loud, but his emphasis and tone measured. Shocked, we both stopped mid-creep. My little brother’s eyes were saucers of anxious curiosity as he rounded the bushes.
“LEAVE IT ALONE!” the man roared, as something metal hit the cemented driveway. I heard the sickening sound of flesh connecting with flesh as my brother ducked back around the bushes.
“What happened?’ I asked him, quietly. I knew.
“She put the shovel down, and he picked it up and threw it, ” he said. “Then he hit her.” He paused, his face baffled. “She did what he told her. Why he hit her?”
I recognized the voice: this was the same man who, weeks before, had attempted to coax me and my friend from class away from our hopscotch game and into his home with promises of chocolate ice cream, chocolate cake and cable TV. All this while his eyes hungrily devoured our eight-year-old frames. (I will say here that the unsafest thing in this world to be is a Pretty Little Black Girl, something that – unfortunately – by the time I was eight, I knew.) I remember coldly informing this man that my friend already had cable and probably ice cream, so NO THANK YOU, as I pulled her away into the safety of her home.
I didn’t say that to my brother. I didn’t tell anybody. But I knew why he had hit her.
“Because he’s an asshole,” I said. My brother giggled nervously at my fearless cussing, but also because what he saw in this Perfect Place had terrified us both.
My neighbor’s partner is a tall, broad, gorgeous dark-skinned Black man. They have been together for a while. If he is indeed responsible, I doubt this is the first time. I know that I will not report this to the police. I know that so many elements of this situation fit neatly into a racist narrative. I know that I alone cannot save my neighbor. I know that my neighbor would fiercely reject any attempts I made to discuss this directly. I know that more than a little vitriol would be thrown my way (i.e., “Do you even HAVE a man? Then don’t tell me how to deal with mine!”). I meant it when I said that I didn’t want to write about this. There has been so much buzz about this lately because of recent pop star events (I’m not recounting them here). I really don’t want to add to the huge body of online work that is discussing this right now. Everything I have to say, anything I have to say, has been said. And better. Scroll down a little and take a look at my Elizabeth Mendez Berry links. SHE did this brilliantly. I cannot. Frankly, it’s too close. And while there are ways and methods to help survivors of straight-on domestic abuse, there are fewer options for those of us who have been merely “grazed” – no matter how ruthlessly or repeatedly – by the violent arm of the patriarchy. In so many ways, we are on our own.
I don’t know how to tell you this. There’s so much I can’t say.
My clothes are clean, and now, so is my conscience. I have compiled a list in a document of hotlines, orgs and associations for victims of domestic violence. I’m going to print them and post them in the lobby and on the bulletin board. I may even make copies of “Love Hurts” and leave a stack downstairs by the mailboxes. I’m not sure how effective any of this will be. I’m not even sure the building management will let me do any of it. But I have to try. Because Doing Nothing in the face of this kind of evil amounts to collusion. I remember reading an article for a class on religion about the nature of evil. The summation: “It exists to make us despair and turn away from God.” That is evil. That is it’s purpose. Whether it is a fist, or a gun, or a war, or a a rape, or a murder. Evil exists to make us despair. So in order to combat it and keep evil from winning, one must battle despair. With a smile. With a joke. With a kind word or gesture. With wit, hope, determination and resilience. With a preachy blog.
Keep fighting.
Carmen Van Kerckhove is co-founder and president of
Talulah wrote:
I can’t figure out which is worse: those chance encounters, when you don’t know someone well enough to say anything directly, or a close friendship, where you’re *so* close that you know exactly how they’re going to tell you that you’re wrong about him.
In the end, I guess you do what you can do: put up flyers, tell her that she doesn’t deserve to be screamed at. It never feels like enough, but it helps. A thousand little moments like that do eventually tip the scale. It’s just hell for everyone waiting for it to happen.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 10:44 am ¶
gail wrote:
Awesome post. If enough of us keep speaking about violence in intimate relationships, it will begin to be normal to speak of it. And then our answers to the question: “What do we need to change this situation” will begin to emerge, in everyday life, in everyday relationships. Thank you, Fiqah. I do not despair.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 10:47 am ¶
msday wrote:
Oh girl, this was horrible. Just when I thought I was having a bad day, the poignancy of your writing struck me like a mack truck. Especially the story about the little girl. Perhaps because in so many ways, I too can identify with what you’ve seen. It makes you want to cradle the abused in your arms and protect them, although that is impossible. However, you can keep doing what you are doing, making people aware with your words.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 10:56 am ¶
mistersquid wrote:
If she wants to remain in her relationship as it is now, she is in a situation where her life is in jeopardy.
Your decision not to notify the authorities is turning a blind eye to the problem.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 11:02 am ¶
Persephone wrote:
Great post.
When I was probably six years old, I had a friend from school over to play, and when my dad came home from work and gave my mom a hug, this six-year-old girl said, I swear, “Your daddy hugs your mommy. My daddy hits my mommy.” I still sort of wonder if there was anything I (or my mom, who also heard her) could have said or done at that moment that could possibly have made a difference for that poor kid. This post is a great reminder that we need to speak up when we see or hear something like that.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 11:03 am ¶
Alyssa wrote:
Fiqah:
Thank you so much for this. I’m a little teary after reading it.
I think it is always hard to see scenes of violence like this even if it’s people we barely know. It painful to realize that innocent people are hurt at random for no reason, and there is nothing they or you can do to stop it. I think a lot of people want to feel like bad things happen for a reason, so we get a lot of victim blaming. People feel more in control (and safer) when they say things like, “Well he wouldn’t have hit her/me if she/I listened in the first place.”
Thank you for reminding us that this type of violence is random and unreasoned. Maybe if more people are willing to admit this, we can empower the victims to speak out and seek help. At this point, that’s all I can hope for.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 11:35 am ¶
Daomadan wrote:
As a survivor of DV, I’m glad you’re going to put up those flyers. It’s better than the alternative of which I was faced with: being ignored and forgotten. I finally got out but I did it alone.
Beautiful piece.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 11:35 am ¶
Jay wrote:
The thing is, mistersquid, that notifying the authorities won’t so much improve her chances.
I’m not saying this to educate you – you can educate yourself when you’re done being a concern troll – but to make sure Fiqah hears from someone who understands and supports the reasons for her decisions.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 11:40 am ¶
Whit wrote:
Is involving the police productive and worthwhile? How do we move outside of calling the police? Is confronting the (potential) abuser productive? Intervention-style with lots of witnesses and backup? How do we stop abuse in our communities? How do we keep our friends and family from entering a relationship with someone who is setting off abuser red flags?
I’m not only asking rhetorically. A friend of mine who has a history of family and relationship abuse has started seeing someone who is infatuated (her word) with her, and wants to spend Every. Waking. Moment. with her to the point that I haven’t seen her since they started dating. Talking about marriage after dating for three weeks should be scary. How do I make her see that?
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 11:42 am ¶
Pamela wrote:
Fiquah,
As always, I am moved by your word flowwww…
P-Dubya
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 12:18 pm ¶
maggie wrote:
I think your idea to post informational/supportive fliers in the hallway is a really, really good one, Fiqah.
I would just say to be prepared for a range of potential reactions from your neighbor/friend and not to let any of them hurt you too deeply. When she sees the fliers, she could take down a number, she could feel comforted that someone would have bothered to do such a thing, she could feel embarrassed and angry that others are butting into her life, or she could feel a mixture of all these things.
As you know, though, facilitating access to information and resources is one of the most important things you can do as an ally of your friend/neighbor in the struggle she is going through.
Oh, and beautiful writing, I really do enjoy reading your words.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 12:56 pm ¶
Dan wrote:
Well, I’m a guy and I’m white, so I really don’t have direct personal knowledge of many of the things you write about, though I know enough to appreciate your difficulty, I think. I think your thoughts are pretty much on the right track. She’ll definitely resent any direct involvement, if my experience is any clue.
But if I ever raised a hand to my wife (or any of my former girlfriends, for that matter), I always assumed that their first and only reaction would be to leave me, and I wouldn’t blame them. I would probably judge my wife if she DIDN’T send me packing if I hit her.
The fun part will come some years from now when my newly-adopted daughter, who is mostly black and part Native American, is old enough to date. I hope before then I’m able to firmly inculcate in her the idea that she should NEVER be hit or abused in ANY way, by ANYBODY…including me, for that matter.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 1:32 pm ¶
Eva wrote:
You are doing the right thing by putting up the flyers. Your neighbor might not see them, might not take advantage of the information, but someone else might.
It’s like knowing someone is an alcoholic; you don’t want to preach to them, but if you leave AA pamphlets around, something might take hold.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 1:38 pm ¶
Asada wrote:
Do they have any children!? Must have been absolutely terrifying.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 2:04 pm ¶
aa wrote:
I will say here that the unsafest thing in this world to be is a Pretty Little Black Girl, something that – unfortunately – by the time I was eight, I knew.
absolutely heartbreaking because it is so, so true.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 2:29 pm ¶
Roni wrote:
The fliers and information are an excellent idea, though I’d be hesitant to leave too much because I’d be concerned of that coming across as pointedly, publicly calling attention to a situation in the building.
However, I’d have also probably asked if she was ok and tell her she was welcome to come by if she needed to. I’m not clear if that’s just a stylistic difference, or cockiness/obliviousness on my part.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 3:37 pm ¶
The Cruel Secretary wrote:
Fiqah–
This is an astonishingly written post and, contrary to what Jay said upthread, you did–and are doing–the right thing. I’m proud of you, luvie.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 3:39 pm ¶
Kavita wrote:
As the mother of a Pretty Little Black Girl, as a woman who has experienced DV and supported friends as they went through it–I hear you I hear you I hear you. Thank you for pushing through and writing this.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 4:20 pm ¶
AintIAWoman wrote:
Fiqah,
Thank you for this. Beautifully written, poignant. Its just so sad. But putting up fliers is the right thing to do, I think. Its the best of all options I can think of. My thoughts are with you & this woman & all women like her.
a woman will tell you / every home she has ever inhabited / has been broken into
/ starting with her body
-suheir hammad
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 4:29 pm ¶
octogalore wrote:
Fiqah, thanks for this brave post.
I understand your decision here.
If this became a recurring sight, would you alter your decision?
I understand that whether isolated or recurring does not affect whether it would feed a racist narrative — either way it surely would, and there remain risks that it could be therefore abused in such a way that no help would be forthcoming.
But there is also the chance that it could be. I don’t think one can know. There are risks on both sides. But if it was recurring, the risk of some kind of permanent injury might be greater than the opposing risk, which would have to be balanced by the opposing possibility that a flawed system might be preferable to the alternative.
I don’t know. This is getting ahead of the situation. But just throwing out some thoughts.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 5:15 pm ¶
Winn wrote:
Fiqah,
Beautiful, powerful post. I can relate to your convoluted mix of feelings and your ultimate decision to proceed as you did, with non-directive (and nonconfrontational) information. Not only does this offer the opportunity for your neighbor to utilize the resources available without her partner necessarily becoming aware of it, it may allow her to do so without feeling directly targeted by concerned others. You perceptively identified the fact that for some women, the shame and humiliation of someone reaching out to them and offering to help causes them to retrench themselves further in the abusive situation. Of course, if her partner discovers it and puts two and two together, there is always the risk that she will be further endangered, but there is always inherent risk for both victims and those concerned for them in DV situations. You did the right thing, and hopefully may also reach someone else at risk that you are not even aware of.
My only caveat is a philosophical one. I have worked as a counselor and advocate with many DV victims, and have also counseled groups of perpetrators. People are rarely so simple as to be categorized as “good” or “evil”, something I know you already know. But I fear that calling violent partners evil does two seemingly counterintuitive things: it makes complex human beings into monsters, and in a strange way, it absolves them to some degree of responsibility for their actions, because evil exists in a space separate from “violent”, “insecure”, “angry”, “cowardly”, etc. We often talk about the best approaches to decreasing violence in families and intimate partner relationships. If that is ever to happen, we can’t solely concentrate on victims to the exclusion of offenders. Calling them and their actions evil suggests there is nothing we can do, that even early intervention may be ultimately useless, and that we ourselves are not complicit in creating a culture that in some respects nurtures, tolerates and even encourages violence against women. You, Fiqah, are taking a stand against that idea by your very actions. Give yourself and every person who takes a stand like yours more credit than to let these behaviors off the hook with a label like “evil”.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 5:21 pm ¶
Fiqah wrote:
@Everybody: Thank you all so much for your feedback. As saddened as I am by the continuing relevance of domestic violence, I am so grateful for this intelligent and intelligently-moderated site. I’m going to be back later to address some of your questions and thought-provoking points. @P-Dubya, TCS: My gurls. ::: big hugs ::: Couldn’t do a bit of it without y’all.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 5:35 pm ¶
Ruchama wrote:
Wow. Really powerful piece.
I remember once, when I was probably 13 or 14, I was at a store with my dad, and I noticed that the cashier had bruises on her arms and neck that were obviously fingerprint bruises — someone had grabbed her arms and tried to strangle her. I wasn’t sure what to say, and stared at her arms, and she noticed me looking and looked back at me, in what seemed to me like a challenging way, and I looked away. I didn’t say anything or do anything. I did actually know of a domestic violence shelter nearby, but I wasn’t sure whether or not I should say anything. I thought about asking my dad, but I knew that he hadn’t noticed the bruises, and wasn’t sure how to bring it up.
Now, about 15 years later, I’m still not sure what I’d do if I were in that situation again. Is there a “right” response when it’s somebody who sure looks like she needs help, but is also someone that you don’t know well enough to know what the situation is or whether she’s getting help already or what any of the million different factors are?
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 5:39 pm ¶
Tim Jones-Yelvington wrote:
this is powerful:
“And while there are ways and methods to help survivors of straight-on domestic abuse, there are fewer options for those of us who have been merely “grazed” – no matter how ruthlessly or repeatedly – by the violent arm of the patriarchy. In so many ways, we are on our own.”
…a reminder of the need for a broader systemic and cultural change than the current, institutionalized approach to violence allows.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 5:53 pm ¶
spacedcowgirl wrote:
I know you don’t mean it this way, but this type of comment (and it’s fresh in my mind because I just heard a caller to the Diane Rehm Show yesterday telling the guest–who had been a victim of spousal abuse–how mystified he was that women didn’t just get out in a tone that sounded extremely “fed up” and accusatory, and telling a story about how he told his abused neighbor that if she didn’t leave, he’d never speak to her again) to me shows how differently situations can be viewed by victims vs. by people like you and me (I am a white woman) who are fortunate enough not to have to make that choice.
I know most men (and women) who are mystified as to why victims don’t “just get out” are good people who ache inside knowing that their neighbor or friend or that stranger on the street is hurting, and who want to solve the problem for them and make them safe. But it really sounds like blaming the victim. There are a lot of reasons, some of which are more concrete and practical, and some of which are individual and nebulous and that you and I may never understand, why women don’t escape abusive situations. I do hope that Fiqah’s strategy of providing information that will help if her neighbor chooses and is able to use it will help this one individual woman to find her way out.
And I am so glad to hear of your intentions to raise your daughter with such a firm foundation, and hopefully the resources and help she will need, to get out of an abusive situation should she (god forbid) find herself in one.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 6:27 pm ¶
Jay wrote:
As AintIAWoman stated…i found this post “poignant”. I am a man and live next to a couple in which i think the girl(black) is being abused by her boyfriend(latino). I do not know this for a fact, but i have heard things and saw things that suggest this might be the case. One night i was home and overheard a loud argument between them and her screaming(though not necessarily “help”). Another time, i walked past them in the street and i saw(what i could’ve sworn was) fear in her eyes.
So often what happens when we, men, recognize violence against women we have 2 thoughts: 1) Step in and help and try to protect and 2) Stay out of it because it’s not our business. The first is our natural reaction, the second comes out of the all too often realization that the abused will always try to defend her abuser and the man who tries to defend her winds up abused(or worst). Women who are abused need to know that they have alternatives. They don’t have to accept abuse. They can fight back, they can move away, they can report their abusers and NOT DEFEND them. They can learn to love themselves and not accept being abused as the only alternative to being alone.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 6:34 pm ¶
Katherine wrote:
She’s usually TOO nice with her hello, in the overly-solicitous manner that lighter-skinned women of color greet darker-skinned ones, in that way that says, “Please don’t hate me on sight. I’m not a stuck-up bitch. I’m not looking down on you. I’m your sister, too.”
Please elaborate- I’m a black women and I have yet to be greeted in such a manner.
Other than the above- it was a great article!
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 6:50 pm ¶
Zara wrote:
Fiqah, this a wonderfully written and insightful piece on the horror that is domestic violence.
I grew up in a loving, caring environment where my mother and father treated each other as true equals and partners in raising our family. My father, to this day, would sooner jump in front of a moving train than ever lay a hand on my mother, my younger brother, and myself. My brother, now 17 years old, does not have a violent bone in his body.
This is the life every woman is entitled to have. It enrages me when women are considered fortunate to grow up in an environment free of domestic violence. A life free of violence is not a privilege; it is a right.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 6:53 pm ¶
RJG wrote:
I know this focuses more on the image used than the article itself, but that’s an amazing PSA and the kind I wish was more likely to be used.
Posted 15 Apr 2009 at 8:12 pm ¶
maggie wrote:
@spacedcowgirl
“I know you don’t mean it this way, but this type of comment…to me shows how differently situations can be viewed by victims vs. by people like you and me (I am a white woman) who are fortunate enough not to have to make that choice.”
Your statement in parentheses “(I am a white woman)” suggests that being a victim of DV and being a white woman are necessarily mutually exclusive. Do you perceive this as largely true, or am I misinterpreting your meaning?
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 1:35 am ¶
Sophia wrote:
I have attempted a couple of times to articulate my interpretation of what Fiqah was trying to convey, but I can’t seem to find the right words. I can only offer a late night foray and words without the proper learning to back them up.
It is an understatement to say African-Americans have held a prominent place in racial politics in the U.S. As the country has become more diverse and more prejudices and minorities started to reside in the country, I can only guess that people of other ethnicities attempted to make ties with the black population on grounds that they had similar agendas politically (e.g. against the white patriarchy). Also there is the common cultural stereotype that lighter skin is preferred; even within Latino, and Asian communities. The combination of such creating somewhat of an interesting social dynamic, that those of lighter-skin may not wish to be viewed as haughty because of it. Granted it could also be because of the preference for lighter-skinned women within black communities as well. I am not sure if by people of colour Fiqah means all minorities (which I assume as her neighbour is Latina) or just other African-Americans.
As a white girl I cannot claim to understand or know the interaction, and I am not well educated in racial issues, merely stating personal observations. I apologise prematurely if any of my remarks offend, though do tell me if that is the case.
In my opinion Fiqah is doing an admirable job in contributing towards her neighbour’s situation, even if it seems small it is more than most people do. I doubt a confrontation would result in much good especially as she is not in a terribly positive position relationship-wise with the victim.
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 4:57 am ¶
Miss Profe wrote:
There is *so* much violence perpetrated against women. As a society, we clearly aren’t doing enough to help our young women or our young men to build loving and respectful relationships, and a healthy self-esteem and self-concept.
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 6:26 am ¶
Fiqah wrote:
Alright, this is longer than the post. Damn. Apologies, folks.
@Daomadan, Kavita: Thank you both very much for sharing your experiences here. Getting out and staying out can be difficult, so I applaud you both and wish you all the best.
@Dan, Zara: Raising your little ones in a healthy and loving environment is essential. Keep in mind, however, that DV victims aren’t always necessarily people whose parents/families didn’t love them enough, or failed to properly nurture their self-esteem. It’s way more complicated than that. Zara, it sounds like you were raised in a very loving and healthy environment. I, too, would like to see a world where every child is.
@Roni, maggie, Eva, Talulah: The flyers seemed like a good, non-intrusive approach. I know that with DV situations people who wish to intervene are generally advised against giving advice to the victim. It’s not that different from saving someone from drowning in choppy waters: if you dive in to save them, you could both drown. Sometimes your best bet is to throw out a rope.
@AintIAWoman: What an amazing excerpt from the always brilliant Hammad. Thank you for it.
@Ruchama, Jay(#26), Persephone, octaglore: And that’s the thing about DV. Even though people don’t really “talk” about it because there is such a powerful element of shame-silencing in domestic violence, it doesn’t mean we don’t see it. This crossed my mind with regard to my neighbor. We’re usually friendly with one another, but in no way are we “friends. And if it happens again, octaglore, I honestly have no idea of what I’ll do. I’m hoping that I won’t have to cross that bridge.
@Jay(#8), Whit: Calling the cops is not always the smartest solution, and thanks to you both for acknowledging that. Whit, there are lots of sources and pamphlets available online and at counseling centers that offer advice to friends and family of DV victims about how best to approach the issue. I found some useful resources compiled here: http://www.da.usda.gov/shmd/aware.htm While I don’t know the details of your friend’s situation, I do know that one of the first things future abusers do is cut off their victim’s social networks, which serves to isolate them. I wish you the best of luck with this.
@Miss Profe, spacedcowgirl, Tim Jones-Yelvington, aa, Alyssa, gail, msday: Thank you all for your wonderful feedback; msday, please forgive me for bringing around this rain cloud yesterday! DV is only one type of violence in a global society that so often permits and encourages myriad forms of violence against women. The only way to dismantle it is to first de-normalize the oppression that makes it possible.
@Katherine, Sophia: My neighbor’s features fit a Eurocentric beauty ideal. This is not her “fault”, but like a lot of people (women especially) who look a certain way, she experiences racism from outside her community, and hostility from within it. This is because so many of us, in the course of resenting unearned privilege based on this ideal, make the mistake of resenting people who benefit from it, whether they wish to or not. I’m pretty sure some old posts here go into it a little.
@Winn: I am going to stand by my assertion. I’m not saying that abusers are evil. I agree that this kind of blanket statement does remove a lot of the abuser’s agency. But I’m of the mind that oppressive systems work because everyday people help keep the wheels turning. I’m not talking about “evil” as an adjective. I’m talking about “Evil” as a noun, a force that takes shape in our very human hands.
@Everyone: If you haven’t had a chance yet, please read Elizabeth Mendez Berry’s “Beyond Gossip, Good and Evil.” It’s just fantastic.
http://www.racialicious.com/2009/03/23/beyond-gossip-good-and-evil/
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 12:22 pm ¶
Pandora wrote:
(((Fiqah)))
You did the right thing. All you can do in DV cases is offer support and resources. If your apartment building has a public bathroom or similar private space, may I recommend putting up a flyer there? If it’s a private space victims will be more comfortable taking more time to read it, jot down phone numbers, etc.
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 1:00 pm ¶
Camille wrote:
Thanks for further explaining “‘Please don’t hate me on sight. I’m not a stuck-up bitch. I’m not looking down on you. I’m your sister, too.’ (I think this is part of why I like her; having been on the giving and receiving end of this dynamic at different points in my life, I understand. It’s hard to explain to anyone who isn’t a Black woman.)” I’m a (light-skinned) black girl and I totally didn’t get it. I still mostly don’t get it, but it’s cool.
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 3:48 pm ¶
Fiqah wrote:
@Camille: While I haven’t found any posts that deal with “colorism” dynamics between Black women per se (and I’m kinda glad about that), I was able to locate a comment thread here where it was discussed: http://www.racialicious.com/2006/11/20/kanye-west-mixed-race-women-are-mutts-and-exist-solely-for-music-videos/ Commenter kim (#15) responded to another commenter’s assertion that light-skinned Black women don’t experience intra-community oppression because of colorism:
“In fact, for many years of a light-skinned woman’s life, she may catch so much hell (not dark enough, not sister enough, nor Sista enough, accused of not being Black enough politically or spiritually) that she may find herself wondering what it is to be brown, and inconspicuous, among her people.”
I think she hit the nail on the head. What my neighbor experiences is often resentment-based hostility from other people of color. When she walks into a room. When she comes into immediate view. Before she even opens her mouth. It’s one thing to be judged and condemned based on what you are by a racist outside world. It’s quite another to be judged and condemned by people who you think of as your own.
Now, if you’ve never experienced anything like this, then maybe this world is getting a little better.
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 5:10 pm ¶
Joseph wrote:
Fiqah,
This is amazing. You have captured the dynamics here so beautifully… it’s heartbreaking. I have been haunted by the image of you and she on the elevator for two days.
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 7:42 pm ¶
heffalump wrote:
Has anyone checked out Leslie Morgan Steiner’s recent memoir about DV, called Crazy Love?
Posted 16 Apr 2009 at 9:57 pm ¶
Wendy wrote:
Thank you, Fiqah.
Hilzoy at obsidianwings has an excellent recent post on “Why do they stay?”
http://obsidianwings.blogs.com/obsidian_wings/2009/04/why-do-they-stay.html
Posted 17 Apr 2009 at 1:13 am ¶
Fiqah wrote:
@heffalump, Wendy: Thanks for the info! Wendy, this piece was very thought-provoking. heffalump, I haven’t read the book but I’ll look it up.
@Pandora: Thank you very much for your kind praise (and the virtual hug!).
@Joseph: It is so unnerving how your awareness of another person’s mood/energy can be heightened to an unbearable acuity in a small space. All that to say it was the longest elevator ride of my young life. and thanks for the lovely compliment. Guess I’ll keep at this “writing” thing I’m doing!
Posted 19 Apr 2009 at 1:20 pm ¶