Happy Mother’s Day! Here’s Your Black Eye!

   I am so upset right now that I can’t think straight.  

    This morning I went to the Unitarian church I go to sometimes.  Then I went downtown to see the woman I rent space from when I do my secret job independently.  

     She answered the door.

     Her face was beat in.  Beat. In.   I’ve never seen it that bad, and I’ve seen a lot. 

     “Holy shit!  Are you okay?  Who did that to you?”   But I knew it was probably her boyfriend.  When women get beat up, it’s usually the man asshole in the home.  First the dad, then the baton is passed to the next generation.

      Right on cue: “It’s not that bad!  It was my fault!” 

      Did I mention she’s an R.N.?  

      “Violence is never your fault!  Are you safe right now?  Is he still here?  Do you need to go to the hospital?”

       “I’m okay!  I already went to the police!”  Translation: don’t call the cops.  

         “Did you get an x-ray?  Do you know if your orbital socket is broken?  Sweetling, you can’t fuck around with this.  I’ve had a black eye before.  It’ll take two days before the swelling goes down, and the skin will be so dark, you won’t be able to assess the damage.  You gotta get an x-ray.”  

       “It was a client,” she said. 

       Horseshit.  I guess it’s possible, but there are always other women in the building, which is one reason I picked it, and there are security cameras all over the street.  A man would have to be a total moron to commit a crime in that area.  A total, total moron.  But then, most street criminals are not exactly MIT graduates.   

       “Did he rape you? Do you need to get medicine?”  HIV cocktail.  Contraception.  

        “No, no.”  

       She gave me a story.  It is not the story she gave to someone else.  I checked.  

        If I knew that I would go to prison for less than three years, I’d go over there right now and shoot him myself.  I honestly would.  Three years.  It would be worth it.   Does this state have the death penalty?  Back home, I’d definitely get the needle.  


      What could a woman do to justify getting hit like that?  Honestly?  Maybe try to kill a guy’s child in front of him?  Knowingly infect him with AIDS?  What else is there?  Honestly?  


      I hate how violent some men are.  Why do they have to be like that?  Why do they think it’s okay?  How nasty and ENTITLED do you have to be to beat up someone, especially someone who can’t defend themselves?  Most people go their whole lives without beating someone up–what is the matter with you, that you can’t do it?  I haven’t hit someone since 2nd grade!  


     Oh, wait, I know why you can do it: because you feel justified and you have no morals and you know you can get away with it.  The same reasons given by everyone who does abusive crap in this world.  


      Another reason I am so furious is that I am scared.  I know that it could have been me.  You cannot protect yourself from someone who is bigger and stronger and out to get you.  Maybe if you get their balls or their eyes straightaway–otherwise you’re shit out of luck.  Your womens’ self-defense class moves will not save you.  Nor will your kickboxing class.  Everyone wonders why the woman didn’t get a weapon or run away, but the answer is obvious: because she couldn’t.  You wouldn’t be able to either, if it happened to you.  You tell yourself otherwise so that you can blame the victim and feel safe at night.  


       What can I do to help her?  What should I do?  


        I know!  I’ll call a DV shelter.  They’ll give me good advice.  


       I know this is a weird blog post, but I don’t know what else to do.  


        Men, if you know someone who beats up his girlfriend, you should let him know that it’s disgusting.  Cause those guys sure aren’t listening to us. 

    


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