It’s Time to Talk Day 2011
This Thursday, December 8, 2011, is the 7th annual It’s Time to Talk Day, a day that is, in the words of Violence UnSilenced board member Stacy Morrison, “dedicated to just this one goal: to start and continue conversations about relationship abuse, domestic violence, and emotional abuse, to join together in making an effort to raise awareness and reverse the humbling statistics:
1 in 3 women will be in an abusive relationship in her lifetime.
On average, more than three women a day are murdered by their husbands or boyfriends in the United States.
Teenage girls are reporting dating abuse at rates higher than women, which makes them the most at-risk group for abuse in America.
One in five tweens—ages 11 to 14—say their friends are victims of emotional, physical or verbal dating violence.”
These are sobering stats, but we here at Violence UnSilenced are ever-reverent of the power of simply talking about abuse, of bringing it up out of the shadows of secrecy and shame and giving voice to what was once unspeakable. We do it all year long.
We encourage you to participate in It’s Time to Talk Day. I will be doing so over on BlogHer.com on Thursday, as Stacy further outlines below:
Don’t be paralyzed by these statistics. Know that the best action any of us can take is to talk about it: with our friends, our sisters, our daughters, our bosses or employees. So please, join BlogHer and Liz Claiborne Inc. and LoveIsNotAbuse.com ON DECEMBER 8 to help women everywhere know that this is not their fault, they are not to blame, and that all of us care about them and believe they deserve love that does not hurt.
Here’s how to join in to this conversation:
•Commit to writing about relationship abuse on December 8, and share the link to your post in the comments of my post kicking off It’s Time To Talk Day here on BlogHer.com on December 8.
Have a conversation with a friend, sister, daughter, son or husband about how pervasive relationship abuse is and how it disproportionately affects women. Help them understand that it is not a “choice” of “leaving” or “staying,” but a systematic takedown of a person’s self-esteem and sense of worth that leaves her believing no one will care. That the perpetrators of abuse need help and attention, too. That no one wants to be in an abusive relationship.
Run a link to the post on BlogHer.com that will run December 8, written by Violence Unsilenced’s Maggie Ginsberg-Schutz, who launched a site for speaking out and healing, where men and women can anonymously or publicly share their stories of survival.
Simply run a notice on your site that says the following: “LOVE SHOULD NOT HURT. If you are a victim of relationship abuse, know two things: It is not your fault. And there are people who want to help you.” And include links and phone numbers to the hotlines, which you can find for your post on Violence Unsilenced or Love Is Not Abuse or the Domestic Violence Hotline or Futures Without Violence or one of many other sites whose sole purpose is to reach out and help when someone needs it most.
Thank you for caring. Thank you for considering taking part in this important day and important conversation. Thank you for daring to take the time to USE YOUR WORDS to help those who need help the most. Here’s to women, and our endless reserves of resilience and compassion. Let’s shine it out there for all to see on December 8, and help change some lives. Because It Is Time To Talk About It.
We hope you’ll join us.
Mariella
I’ve tried to write this story several times before. I’ve never really managed to finish it. I somehow felt that there were plenty of women who lived through much worse. Women who were abused as children, women who have lived with abusive spouses for years, women who were raped by strangers. I survived. I grew up, I have a successful life. There is nothing physically wrong with me.
Lately though, I’ve come to realize that none of that erases what happened to me. I seem happy, I seem normal, I’m not. I seek out relationships with men who are also damaged. I’m unable to trust others. Sex has no value to me.
I was 15 when I met him and fell in love.
My mother and I had never had a good relationship and there was no one I could talk to about the questions I had about sex and love. She didn’t want me to date, but she never told me why. It was after I became an adult that she told me she had been abused as a child.
That year I’d met my first high school boyfriend. I’d never felt that way before about anyone. When he dumped me I spent three weeks crying. My best friend, who was 17 at the time, invited me to the beach with her and her family so I could get some fresh air and have some fun.
That is the single event in my life I regret the most. If I hadn’t gone, I’d be different.
She had a group of friends who were older than us and already in college. The day after we got to the beach, they took us out dancing. That’s where I met him. He was friends with some of the guys we were with. He took advantage of me in every way I can possibly imagine for the next year. He lied to me about everything. He told me he was 21. He wasn’t; he was 26. He told me he was still in school. He wasn’t, he’d dropped out and worked as a trucker with his father. He told me he lived with his mother and his little brother. He actually lived with his mother and his son. I fell in love with him because I was young and naïve. I thought he was exciting; I wanted to live life too quickly.
The second time I went to his house he raped me.
I didn’t give it that name. I didn’t know. I didn’t know why he was so rough with me when, if he’d asked, I would’ve said yes.
I felt I was doing something wrong when I was unable to feel anything except pain. He only came when he saw I was bleeding.
He began to take over my life slowly. I wasn’t allowed anywhere without him. I couldn’t see my friends or wear makeup or high heels. If I ever went out and he found out where I was he went to get me and tried to drag me out to his car. Twice he was kicked out of places we were at.
I didn’t leave him. I feel like an idiot about it now.
Eventually things escalated. He hit me. He burned a cigarette out on my leg.
I finally left when he got a 13-year-old girl pregnant and stole pills from my dad’s office to try and give her an abortion. She almost died.
My parents found out about him and grounded me for about a year. It was the best thing they could have ever done for me.
He tried contacting me some time later. I never let him near me again.
The last time I heard from him I’d begun working for a female rights group anonymously and was finally able to put a name on what he did to me; abuse. I threatened him and told him that if he ever came near me again it’d be the last thing he ever did.
It wasn’t my only abusive relationship, but I was able to get myself away from the others before it was too late.
My sister-in-law is about to give birth to a baby girl. I’m writing this for me and for her. So that she’ll make better choices, so that she’ll know that she can count on me when she needs someone to protect her from herself.
###
Nicky
I thought after five years of knowing and dating my ex that I was making a solid choice when I got married. We had only had a handful of disagreements and in all of those I had been the loud one, being what he called “emotional” and “girly.” However, nothing was ever violently hurtful, he just always “won.”
Not even a month into our marriage it seemed like he flipped and changed. I was left with the constant feeling that I was wrong, stupid, and small. I wasn’t allowed to make purchases without checking in first. I struggled to make friends because he managed all my time. I was being pulled away from my family and he told me when and how I could spend my time with them.
At first I tried to do what he wanted. I thought a good wife was able to give and be there for her husband and to support his leadership. Then I got tired of always being wrong and I fought back and tried to maintain my own thoughts and goals.
That’s when he started hitting me.
When I think about the abuse I remember the bruises. I remember how I felt physically and emotionally dead. I remember how I felt the night I finally gave up and resigned myself to the thought that this was how my life was going to be. I would always be scared and wonder when or what I would do wrong next to make him mad. I remember how he pinched my chest until I had deep purple bruises covering my upper body. I remember kicking him off me and he took my foot and bit my toes until they bled. I remember the sound of my head hitting the door casing before things went black. I remember how black his eyes seemed. I remember thinking, as he tried smothering me with a pillow, that if I just died then maybe he would finally be happy. I remember the baby that I lost because wasn’t strong enough to leave before things got to that point.
There is so much about my five years of marriage to that person that I regret. I lost myself and it’s been a struggle to come to terms with the emotional mess that I was. Every morning when I put on my makeup I cover up a small scar under my left eye from the last fight. It’s been hard and scary at times to leave. I haven’t always been well informed as to what my rights are, and that has made things more difficult.
This Christmas is my five year anniversary of leaving my ex-husband. I’ve always felt like there should be chips given to survivors like in AA or NA to mark these anniversaries. A little something that says, “I did the impossible and now I know what living really feels like.” It would probably need to be shorter, but I hope you get my point.
I can say I have never regretted leaving him. I feel lucky to have that clarity.
###
Thank you for visiting Violence UnSilenced, a speak-out platform for survivors of domestic abuse, sexual assault, and sexual abuse. If you are a survivor and it is safe to do so, we encourage you to share your story here. If you are not a survivor but you want to support those who are, please click around this site and find out more about what you can do.
Erratic
I have gone back and forth about sharing this. I feel like my story is private and mine, mine alone. But, I also feel that I need to share it.
I don’t remember most of my childhood. I don’t know why. People tell me stories of being a kid, a teenager, and I don’t remember any of them. Most of my memories are repeating stories other people told me. But, there are certain things I can’t forget. Certain things I won’t ever forget.
My parents divorced when I was seven and my dad wasn’t really around. Not because he didn’t want to be, he just wasn’t. He worked a lot, he was three states away. He just wasn’t there. My mom remarried a man with three children. I was the oldest, with his son being 9 months younger than me.
I remember him walking in on me while I showered, with a hard on. Rubbing himself while I showered. I remember having to lock every single door and being terrified to change my clothes, not to mention shower. I remember him walking in on me peeing and the same thing happening. His little sister, about 6 years younger than me, would crawl into my bed when we had company because they would share a room and he would masturbate in bed with her. She would cry and cry and cry. Eventually, my mom and stepdad got him his own room simply so that he wouldn’t masturbate while his sisters were in the room.
His father was no better. He would argue with my mom and throw things at her, at first. We went through so many sets of dishes. Then it turned into hitting. I remember one night where he pushed her down the stairs because my friends came over on Superbowl Sunday and were interrupting the game. After they left, he was furious. I ran to the basement stairs, thinking she was dead. She was fine. Bruised and sore, but fine. I tried to call the police and she ripped the phone out of my hand. I was told to mind my own business.
They divorced when I was 15. I had my driver’s permit and had to drive in the middle of the night to steal our stuff back from the house we all shared. I even recruited my friends. We would sneak in and take everything we could. While he was at work, late at night, whenever we could guarantee that he wouldn’t be home. Sometimes, he was just passed out somewhere while we took everything.
Around this time, I met a guy online. Not someone I was interested in dating, just a friend. He had gone through similar things and we started talking and hanging out. One night, he brought his friend, Brandon. We immediately hit it off. We started talking and one night, we all got together when my friend’s parents were out of town. We were hanging out at his apartment complex pool and I remember walking into the sauna. The next thing I know, I woke up completely naked. Brandon was sitting next to me, equally naked. I have no idea what happened. I was a virgin.
My friend later told me she walked in and he was fingering me, but I was dressed. The next day, I was sore. I could barely walk. I was bleeding. I asked this same friend if they saw anything and she told me to suck it up. I was drunk and did something stupid. We all do it.
I don’t know if this is everything. I only remember certain parts of my childhood. But, I hate being touched. I don’t like being hugged and intimacy makes me really uncomfortable. Mostly with strangers. Close friends I am a lot better with.
I feel like a stranger around my closest friends. Nobody knows this. At least not all of this. There are more days where I don’t want to get out of bed than I am comfortable with.
I feel like an asshole because people have been through so much worse. I feel like my story is meant for an advice column in a magazine, not this website. Then I remember that I am completely changed because of these experiences. I remember that other people feel the way that I do. I remember that the point is UNSILENCED. Not shame. And some bizarre sense of humility.
Everyone deserves happiness. And for someone to love them. And for someone to love. I have all of that now. Despite my craziness. Despite all of it. I am somehow happy.
###
Erratic blogs at http://erratictheblog.blogspot.com/.
Thank you for visiting Violence UnSilenced, a speak-out platform for survivors of domestic abuse, sexual assault, and sexual abuse. If you are a survivor and it is safe to do so, we encourage you to share your story here. If you are not a survivor but you want to support those who are, please click around this site and find out more about what you can do.
