Silence. The quiet abuser.
I appreciate reading random online journals, peeking my head into other people’s experiences. Unfortunately I have noticed that numerous people have disclosed some level of abuse, whether that be physical or psychological. The act of abuse itself often raises a level of aggression foreign to me; however, what infuriates me even more is the constant idea of being silent; of not speaking up and ending that cycle of thought.
Abuse is everywhere, regardless of economic status, regardless of ethnicity, regardless of relationship style. Abuse absolutely does occur within the kink community even though many people find it rather challenging to define what abuse is and what it is not. Recently my Master wrote a rather extensive and detailed entry regarding definitions and laws all concerning abuse and I encourage everyone to take the time to read through all he shared for it is interesting and informative.
The laws are often difficult to understand though and after reading Master’s article I too felt a little puzzled and uncertain. With that said though, what I walked away from after reviewing all Master shared and from reflecting on what I have seen and experienced myself, is that abuse is never acceptable and that under no circumstances does anyone have the right to touch me, to invade my person, to inflict anything upon me without my consent and if he or she does than it is abuse. And if anyone should cause such abuse to my physical and or emotional self, I will not remain silent.
I. Will. Not. Remain. Silent!
My heightened emotion regarding silence bubbled this morning when my very best friend telephoned me, sharing with me that last night her boyfriend hit her. My immediate reaction was that of protection, love and anger. I was angry that someone invaded my friends personal space, that the man she loves, the man she trusts, the man who she has called a friend, a companion, a lover for over three years caused harm to her body. And if the physical insult was not enough, he also created an immediate loss of trust as well as a feeling of worthlessness and insecurity and to complete the cycle of abuse he also intimidated her creating a sense of fear — fear of speaking up, of defending herself with words by sharing what happened with the right people.
I am very proud of my friend for not allowing that fear to paralyze her for she did call the R.C.M.P. and charges were laid. I am extremely proud of my friend for calling me and sharing her story, for allowing the experience to have a voice. What makes me sad though is that now, many hours after the fact, she is questioning her actions, wondering if calling the police was the right decision, that maybe she should have remained silent, allowing him back into her life, dismissing this incident as an error in judgment, that it was simply an accident.
My friend is not alone in her thoughts. After reading numerous journals, after counseling numerous people who have experienced abuse, after experiencing it myself, I can not help but wonder if we are, in some way, conditioned to keep the unpleasantries of our personal life private. I wonder if maybe we are conditioned to give people another chance and if we are how destructive might that be to our well being?
Five years ago I had what I can only describe as a light bulb moment. I had been working in a group home, counseling adolescents who exhibited violent behaviours and during one of my shifts a young man physically assaulted me. We had been engaged in a therapy session and I had asked him a question regarding his childhood. My question appeared to trigger something negative and instead of verbally communicating his feelings he rose from his chair, reached out grabbing my hair and using all his force yanked me to the ground, straddling me with his legs all while punching my face, throat and chest. The assault lasted approximately 1 – 2 minutes at which point the young man was pulled from my body and escorted out of my office.
Immediately after the assault the police arrived and asked me if I would like to press charges. My initial response was yes. Yes I wanted to press charges; yes I wanted the young man to be held accountable for his actions; yes I wanted the other children as well as my colleagues to understand that the abuse I just experienced was not acceptable and that I had every right to be safe. I had every right to protect my person. I wanted to be brave, to use my voice, interestingly though, I did not. Instead of saying yes, instead of standing up to the young man’s bullying tactics I said no. I did not press charges that day. I did not speak up against abuse; instead I was silent.
A few days later, a fellow colleague approached me, curious as to why I did not press charges. Shamefully I admitted that I was scared, that I felt as though it was my fault that he hit me. What is even more perverse is that I genuinely felt as though what he did was not that bad and that if he had really hurt me such as break a limb, than I would charge him because that would really be abuse. I was stunned with my words and as they slipped past my lips I felt an immediate sense of nausea. My fellow co-worker sensed my unease and yet she did not hug me, instead she guided me to a mirror, asking me to look at myself. My right eye was swollen, my lip cut and bruised and a clear outline of the young man’s fist was left just below my left collar bone. I was in awe at just how damaged my body was; however, I was further stunned when I realised just how damaged my psyche was for as I stood there, allowing my fingertips to trace the outline of each welt, I heard and acknowledged what I had known the minute I refused to lay charges: I had demonstrated an abused persons behaviour; I had perpetuated the cycle of abuse by not stopping it, by not standing up to it.
A few months later that same young man held me hostage in my office, spending two hours beating me as well as threatening to kill me. When the police eventually convinced him to release me I did not hesitate to press charges even though many of my peers as well as my supervisor told me not to, that I should excuse his behaviour because he has experienced a challenging life, that it was not his fault. This time I did not allow to abuse myself with silence and I have never silenced myself since.
Silence can be debilitating. We are often taught to be quiet, to dismiss behaviours. I do not dismiss abuse. I do not believe anyone should. This does not mean people do not make mistakes. We all do. Some mistakes though are not excusable. Some have life altering consequences and if anyone should abuse me, abuse anyone, the consequences are significant and so should be.
No one has the right to harm another human being. No on has the right to put his or her hands or any other body part onto another without consent. No one! And if someone does invade your space, if someone invades my space I will not be silent. Whether you are owned or not, whether you have a Master or a husband, whether you have agreed to light spankings or hard spankings, whether you have agreed to face slapping or being hit with a paddle, if anything happens to your person that you have not given consent to, that is abuse and that is something you do not have to accept; have to keep to yourself.
Use your voice. Words are powerful.
~His
(Photograph: courtesy of Selkie)
Monday,March 1,2010 at 2:39 pm Comments (8)
