Okay. So it’s the end of the day,
and I have a little breathing space, or maybe I've just finally worked up the
nerve to write this post. It’s been tugging at me, simmering below the surface,
twitching my fingers to put down the words; but my broken heart. My bruised,
aching broken heart…I've decided however that I’ll brave it, for these words
have to be said, maybe in saying, enlightenment and healing will come for
someone who happens on it; maybe that person would be me.
These past few weeks the media
has been awash with cases of domestic abuse, and though the slant has been on
physical abuse, there have been one or two accounts of other kinds as well.
Reading through all that text, talking with the females around me, has caused
my heart to break, to ache; for all the broken women braving it with a smile,
because society tells them to. Because they have nowhere to go. Because they
don’t know any better.
These men. These men who do these
things. Who were they as little boys? Did they change as they grew into men?
Was it always in them, but no one just noticed? Did they suffer a mental re-orientation
that informed these ideals that were otherwise strange to them? That it is okay
to enjoy the hurt they consciously and knowingly cause another? For they surely
must enjoy it. For abuse isn't the one off action, but the repeated acts of
wrong doing. And if it’s repeated, surely they must be sadistic?
My mind wonders, as I gaze on my
sweet boy’s peaceful sleeping face. What kind of man am I grooming him to be?
When I spank him for being naughty, and then draw him close, because I hurt for
causing him hurt, no matter how deserving; am I inadvertently grooming a man
who thinks that you hit the one you love, and then draw them close to explain
why he hit her? When I ignore him, when he has upset me, in order to
communicate my hurt, am I otherwise showing him how to be emotionally
withdrawn, starving his love of attention? When I raise my voice, in anger,
aware that the loud boom of my voice, strikes fear in his heart; am I showing
him that authority lies in a raised voice? And instead of speaking respectfully
and lovingly to her, will he instead shout her down like a serf? Tell me boy,
who will you be?
Society doesn't help either.
Society says as a strong woman, you must not only digest, but must enjoy
digesting a steady diet of bullshit. Excuse my French. How do you explain all
the negative comments that came at Tiwa Savage when she opened up about her
pain? From fellow women no less! You've just disgraced your son’s father.
Hello?! He did that already all by himself! Every woman is going through the
same thing so shut up and stick a smile on your face. Erm… well that’s them. I
applaud them, but I haven’t got, neither do I desire to have that forbearance.
I’d rather my children have a father. Okay. As long as you realize that means
they might not have a mother! It might be murder, from physical abuse, it might
be suicide, from induced depression, or you might just LOSE YOURSELF. Becoming
this insecure, cowering thing, or a twisted, bitter shadow of that beautiful
girl with the bright eyes, from all the constant lies, disrespect, and put
downs. In my book, all the above options are akin to death. Abuse brought on
death.
I got out. I make no apologies. I
make no excuse. I CHOSE. I got out. For every woman going through ANY form of
abuse. It’s your life. Choose how it will be lived. Tolerate it, and smile; or
choose out. Just make sure that it’s YOUR CHOICE. Don’t be coerced,
manipulated, blackmailed, advised (sic), and/or threatened into doing anything
against your better judgement/ intuition. CHOOSE wisely. For mothers, teach our
sons’ to treasure, to love, to cherish, to respect, to nurture. Teach our
daughter’s to value themselves, to demand recognition of the value. Or to walk.
I don’t advocate for broken
homes, or careless single lives. I advocate happiness. In pairs, or alone.
Choose to be happy.
CHOOSE TO BE GOLDEN.
D2AGE.
