Color Me Butterfly

Somewhere, there is a man who sits in the dark.  He sits silenced by shame – the shame of ever letting anyone know his secret… a secret that he rarely reveals for fear he’ll be labeled or even judged.  What is his shame?  His shame is that he is one of many, many men who fall victim to domestic abuse.

A few weeks back, I titled one of my blog’s entry as ‘The Hushed Side of Domestic Violence’.  In it, I discussed how men are victims too; how research consistently shows that women are as aggressive and/or initiates domestic violence as much or sometimes more often than men; that women are more likely to use weapons than men; and that men are more likely to be victims in dating violence; but because men don’t report it as often as women, this reality is grossly ignored. 

That entry sparked a number of emails that I received from men applauding and commending me for speaking up on their behalf – for bringing to light that there is ‘two sides’ to domestic violence.  One man wrote to tell me how for many, many years, he’d watched his mother abuse his father; another wrote how he had tolerated the most horrific abuse from his wife; and just recently, while speaking at a women’s event, a woman shed tears over how her son is consistently abused by his wife and how her 5 year old granddaughter had drawn a picture of a big house, with a big yard, a dog and a big sun spreading its light over them -- a depiction of that sad little girl's view of a happy home. 

I, for one, know this to me true.  I know it because I’ve seen it, and because more and more, I stand witness to how some women treat their men.  Perhaps they may not physically abuse them, but they do verbally and emotionally abuse them.  Just recently while at Blockbusters, there was a young women who stood in the parking lot – screaming such obscenities at her boyfriend that I was ashamed to regard her as a woman.  It wasn’t enough to call him every terrible name one could think of   --  no, she had to further belittle him by making a scene for all to see; and more and more, I’ve come to see this, especially amongst younger women. 

I think we must understand that abuse comes in many ways --- physical, emotional, psychological, verbal and sexual.  I believe that if we are to be true in our efforts to raise awareness and educate about domestic violence – that we can no longer ignore that it’s two-sided.  Just as there are terrible, terrible men that abuse their women… in the same light, there are terrible, terrible women who abuse their men. 

We need to come to terms that ‘A Cry in the Dark’ is lurking.  There are many, many, men that fall victim to domestic violence; and just because they don’t report it as often as women, perhaps because of shame, fear, or just ego -- gives us no right to ignore them. 
 
Let us take a stand for all those who are abused . . . including our men!

During her 10 year marriage to Tennessee Minister Matthew Winkler, Mary Winkler never told anyone about the bruises and sexual humiliation she endured.  “I stooped down to pick something up and he kicked me in the face,” she testified about one of the abusive incidents.  Charged with first degree murder, after her descriptive, horrifying and oftentimes shameful testimony, the jury of ten women and two men, this week, found Mary guilty of voluntary manslaughter; a sentence that carries a maximum three to six years of prison time, or possibly probation.

“He had really been on me lately criticizing me for things – the way I walk, I eat, everything.  It was just building to a point.  I was tired of it.  I guess I got to a point and snapped.”  Mary’s testimony is the testimony of many.  Those who shroud their humiliation and shame in silence; carrying a burden that is oftentimes more painful than the abuse; those who ‘take it’ until they can ‘take it no more.’ 

There has been much speculation about whether Mary’s verdict is fair, stiff enough.  Many may believe she deserves life in prison, if not death.  Many may believe that because she chose ‘silence’ that it gives her no right to claim abuse.  Many may think that she had no choice; that the abuse she endured justifies her actions.  Many may come to understand that no matter how long it’s silenced, abuse will eventually, somehow, in some way, surface and eventually lead to something.  That something came for Mary on March 22, 2006 when she picked up her husband’s 12 gauge shot gun.

Physical, emotional, psychological and sexual abuse was all present in Mary’s testimony of what she endured from her husband, Matthew – all of which are the most common behaviors in domestic violence; all of which – for many women – that which they have come to know as their lives – their normal. 

“I was ashamed.  I didn’t want them to know,” Mary finally said.  How many of us have said these very same words? Felt the shame that Mary had?  My one hope is that Mary’s story will not be in vain, become just another statistic; but instead, we as a society will learn from this experience and embrace a culture that makes it easier for one to come forward, speak up and get the help they so deserve.

This past week we were inundated, overwhelmed, consumed by the news that syndicated radio jock Don Imus had referred to an elite group of young women of the Rutgers University Basketball team –  as terms that I will not repeat because I refuse to give anymore credence to those disparaging, horrible words.  Words that has sparked a national uproar, blew the lids off of our ‘caps’ and brought renowned media coverage and focus.

And though I have mixed feelings about what was said, how it was said, how it was reacted to, and what occurred as a result of Imus’ actions, I am left dumbfounded that we, as a society, required something of this caliber to happen before we raised our voices and spoke out against this resounding type of verbal abuse.  Women are tormented daily in our private, public and professional lives by words that are often used to describe and attack our self esteem, self worth, and self image.  Why did it have to take THIS to bring attention to it.  There are countless examples of these types of words that are used in video, audio, onscreen – in some of the highest rated movies and programs – and inside our homes when our spouses and significant other torment us with words that are capable of breaking down our souls, and yet… we have practically ignored these facts but have somehow found a voice through Imus.  How profound!

It should come as no surprise that verbal abuse is a form of violence against women.  Words are more capable of effecting long term damage, more often at times, then physical abuse.  I’d go as far as to say that words are even more lingering and damaging.  It’s not just the black and blue tattoos, or the swollen lip, or the gun that was pointed at me, or the knife that was used against my mother, it’s the words that have lingered in my mind, in my soul.  Words that had at times ripped apart my self image and made me evaluate my own self esteem, self worth and self respect. 

My hope is that this spark of focus and interest in how damaging words can be, will not fizzle away along with the cameras once the media moves on to the next ‘Hot Topic’; instead, it will be the match that lights the torch of a stance and crusade to raise awareness and enforce a cause that this sought of behavior is offensive and will no longer be tolerated without consequences. 

Last, but not least, let us not forget that – WORDS hurt too!

I sat on the edge of my seat, waiting for the guests to arrive.  “Let’s give it a few more minutes,” she announced.  She is the PR Manager at the Barnes & Noble bookstore in downtown Philadelphia where the Color Me Butterfly author’s tour kicked off.  I was elated, anxious to see how many would come out to hear a reading of my work, to come and share in my story.  And though there were only a few in the room, not to mention my very own mother, I was eager to start. 

Moments later, as I went about reading an excerpt from Color Me Butterfly, there sat in the front row, a women – huddled in her seat, her shoulders drawn down, cloaked in Hijab (Muslim headscarf and dress); a cane rested near her leg – not a word, a sound, came from her.  She listened in silence.
Throughout my talk, I couldn’t help but periodically glance over at her; wondering why she refused to look up at me, at anyone for that matter.  Then, bit by bit as I shared my personal experiences, I saw pieces of her come to life.  First there was the slightest sound of shuffling in her seat; then her head began to rise, her eyes came to life and she was now holding on to my every word.

Just when I was about to bring the discussion to a close, out of no where, a small voice spoke up.  Her voice.  “I . . .  I just wanted to say how inspired I am by your book and your story.  As a survivor, I too, understand what you and your family have gone through.”  As each word forced its way from her tiny concealed lips, they became stronger, deeper in their meaning – she went on to share how she’d been abused since she was a small child; how she’d watched her mother be abused; and how she, now terminally ill, was finally finding the courage to speak up and speak out against domestic violence.  “Although my life is almost over, I refuse to die,” she professed.  “I’ve never much talked to anyone about my situation, but I refuse to be silent any longer.”  The room was mesmerized by her story.  Her words melted my heart. 

This woman, a Muslim woman, had opened up her heart to a room full of strangers.  And not because she was forced to; not because she wanted to; but because she finally found the courage to.  She’d been huddled, cloaked in her shame, in her secrecy for far too long… and I felt a blessing move through the room, for this woman to have chosen me, this group, this day… to unveil the Cloak of her Secrecy.

I have been where that woman is.  I, too, have been cloaked in secrecy, refusing to reach out and share my story, my pain.  My mother was cloaked in secrecy.  My grandmother was cloaked in secrecy.  My daughter, to this day, is still – cloaked in secrecy.
 
There are so many women and men that are cloaked in the veil of secrecy – shrouded by shame, embarrassment, fear; suffering in silence.  Whatever the cloak, I  encourage you, implore you – to reach out and unveil the cloak.  Make the choice to get the help you so deserve.  Contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE or at http://www.ndvh.org/. 

Finally, find the courage to lift the garb that has kept you from changing your circumstances… from changing your life!