Did you vote for Trump? Me neither. What about Hilary? Me neither. In the words of Talib Kweli, I believe in “more accountability for politicians before we shoutin’ let’s vote!” Do you believe Black Lives Matter? Did you stand with Standing Rock? Now, do you agree (even in silence) with your friend, cousin, brother, sister r anyone else you may know assaulting another out of anger or frustration? Do you support or otherwise condone, directly or indirectly, the actions of people you know even when they are wrong? Do you gossip, spread rumors or believe whatever you hear without doing any investigation of your own? Do you stab people in the back? Would you rather “stay out of it” when it comes to telling someone you know that they are doing the wrong things? Imagine how many people do not outwardly admit to answering in the positive to many of these questions, yet do them every day.

How is it that some of the same people who speak on how Black Lives Matter or what a misogynistic idiot Trump is practically fall silent at the topic of someone they know being an abuser or otherwise having bad taste in behavior and thought? Often the only difference is that they do such things directly to people they know or in their communities, they remain silent about it, and so do their friends and families. Trust there are countless people out there in those crowds, behind those banners, wearing those t-shirts, and sporting those political bumper stickers who either have behaviors and ways of thinking that parallel Trump’s or the police involved in brutalities, or they know someone who does and choose to look past it. How can that be? What hypocrisy is this?

Why is it that so often the minimum is done, if that, to correct social issues such as the handling of the Hurricane Katrina aftermath, Flint’s water, Standing Rock, Black Lives Matter, to name a few? Why are we pacified briefly only for the atrocities to continue shortly after? It is because we are not strong within, as a vast majority, as a people, a human race. We go out and we protest and we speak against certain issues, some of us, and we don’t even take the time to correct the issues within ourselves or within our immediate families or communities.

Why do we get so upset when the police are excused for their violent behavior by a jury in much the same way abusers are excused for their violent behavior by their peers? What about my life, does it not matter? Is it ok that my ex-husband strangled me because he’s black? Is it ok to look past his actions, and if so, then why not Trump’s? My experience is just a single example, but do we not see the pattern in how society as a whole reflects the smaller scale of our communities? In many instances a parallel can be drawn between those who have committed police brutality and those who have committed abuse within the home or in their community. Smack them on the wrist, tell them they did wrong, and life goes on. So why do we get so agitated at one occurrence more than the other?

We have not mastered correction on even the most basic levels: that of ourselves and our immediate surroundings. We chose to accept universal wrongs when we know the person committing them rather than choosing to bring a sense of cohesion about what is right and what is wrong across the board, for everyone. If I can observe this, don’t you think the powers that be can as well? Consider this, would you listen to the demands of someone who doesn’t have their own life together or their own mind right? That is how they see us and that is why we are only temporarily pacified and not heard. Our protests are left to die out like the fits of children and our pleas are met with insulting levels of apathy.

It is not mere coincidence that there is so much discord in our politics this day and age. We have allowed ourselves to be desensitized more and more over time. We have allowed ourselves to believe that there is no connection between how we behave and think as individuals and how our society operates. We don’t seem to understand that we are one and the same, a part of a whole.

Lifting ourselves up, lifting each other up in positive ways of thinking, being and interacting would create true sense of community and make all of us, as a human people, indestructible. We are not truly united, and we are not truly strong if our inner structure has gaps and weaknesses in the form of condoning internal wrongs or choosing one cause over another. The connection between the individual and society can be seen if we but look; but often people don’t want to see how their actions may mirror those of people they dislike. Nevertheless, if our inner states do not match our outer expressions, nothing will properly align for us. Become strong in mind and spirit, encourage your neighbor, that is, your friends and family. Be their example, not their source for excuses.

When my daughter and I got back to Vegas after my last incident of abuse at the hands of my ex it was a Friday. The following Monday I filed police reports against him. Two reports were filed; one for the incident at Town Square in Las Vegas, and another for two separate incidents in Los Angeles. Tears welled up then flowed as I sat waiting to be seen trying to figure out how I had gotten to such a stage.  I’ve already described to you two of the incidents so far…

You see, back in July was the first time and my ex and I had been married about a month and a half. We were in LA to do indoor go-kart racing for one of his friends’ birthday party. Before going, we got into yet another argument. The source of the argument again I do not recall; it was just another one of many. We were in his mother’s room after having gone to the pool. He was standing over me as I sat on his mother’s bed. Seeing a pattern here? Funny how two out of the three times he assaulted me  were at his mother’s house and, more specifically, in his mother’s bedroom.

As our voices escalated, I raised my hand in the air as if to say, “Stop, hold up!” It was another moment in which I was tired of arguing, tired of trying, tired of being with someone who didn’t add to my happiness or bring positivity. The irony of this was that my ex always told me I made him the happiest he had ever been. Yet, as my happiness dwindled each day, his had increased; don’t think that is a coincidence.

“This is not worth it,” I stated firmly, hand still in the air.

“What?” he asked stopping mid-sentence; I had interrupted him.

“This relationship is not worth it. Being with you IS NOT WORTH IT! I’m done.”

“So…what do you want to do?”

“I want to get a divorce,” I yelled looking up and straight into his eyes.

I barely got the words out of my mouth before he lunged at me and pinned me onto the bed with his weight and one hand holding me down by the throat. He began screaming with such force that I could feel him spitting as he yelled. I scrunched my face tight and kept telling him through my teeth to let go of me. Once he finally did, he sat down on the bed next to me looking over his shoulder as I sat up.  This was the part where we were supposed to talk.

That was another pattern in all the times he put his hands on me. He acted as if we would pretend nothing had happened and talk it out. There was nothing to say though, nothing to talk about. Clearly I couldn’t speak the truth; the truth only infuriated him, and he was incapable of handling disagreement. The truth was I wanted out, I wanted to end it and, though we had only been married just over a month, I had already said that to him many times over. After several moments of silence I spoke,

“Let’s just go to the party,” I said softly, not looking at him.

What I really meant was he should go to the party. The plan was to have him start getting ready, then later say I didn’t want to go anymore. Perhaps, I thought, I could get him to sympathize with me and agree to give me some time alone. That was what I really wanted. The thought of going to another one of his get together invites, especially after what had just happened, was depressing. I would have to smile, pretend we were happy and be fake for hours, and it killed me. I figured if he was all ready to go and I wasn’t he’d leave me there, especially considering the situation.

“No, we need to talk this out…we can go home; fuck the party,” was his reply.

Though I continued to press him to get ready, he wouldn’t budge. Since talking it out wasn’t truly an option, I found another way; I took the blame and apologized.

“I was frustrated and angry, that’s why I said those things,” I told him.

This was to pacify him. That’s what he wanted, and of course it was all about what he wanted. He wanted someone else to take responsibility so he didn’t have to, and he brought this about with his actions. Actions can be more ambiguous and leave more room to cloak true intentions; direct words would be too much evidence as to what was really going on within him. He didn’t have the words or the capability to speak them anyway. Imagine that, having to lie or take blame for someone else’s wrongs just to move a situation along because there is no other way out of it. Imagine the people who have to deal with abusers in this way every day. It is a feeling I will never allow myself to have again, and hate that anyone has to go through.

“I’m sure me saying all that frustrated you as well,” I added.

I could see he was beginning to soften up. As long as he wasn’t the bad guy and was getting what he wanted, everything was all good. Unable to get him to leave me there, we went to the indoor raceway and I did the usual smiley face, pretended all was well, and enjoyed the moment for what it was. I don’t recall thinking that something like that would happen again at that point, let alone two more times. Who knows how long it would have gone on had I stayed.

It took hours to complete the police reports; much longer than I had anticipated. Towards the end, the officer taking my report asked a series of questions about my ex:

Was he unemployed? – Yes

Did he use alcohol and/or drugs – Yes to both

Does he possess a firearm? – Yes

Has he ever stalked you or anyone you know? – Yes

There were several more questions and I answered yes to them all. Based on my answers I was considered high risk and told I should fear for my safety from this person who at the time was my husband. They gave me copies of my report and a battered women’s shelter to contact for help or a place to stay. My heart was even more saddened. I had married someone who fit every negative point on the Las Vegas PD checklist for stalking and domestic violence behavior. Again I wondered how I got to this point.

Days passed after filing my police reports, and eventually my ex’s grandmother and stepmother called separately to find out what had happened. Although his mother never called me, she did go on to tell others that the reason I divorced her son was because I “just didn’t want to be married anymore”, leaving out the part where her son became an abuser; as if I just woke up one morning and decided that that relationship was something I no longer wanted. My ex’s mother will also tell you to make sure you go vote though.

“What the hell is going on,” his grandmother asked with a light chuckle when she called.

His grandmother was one of those older folks who complains a lot about present society. She would always speak of how people today are ignorant, they don’t read, they don’t have worthwhile aspirations that benefit society, their preoccupations are petty, things of that nature. Listening to her always put a smirk on my face because I found it so incredibly ironic that everything she complained about in modern society described her grandson almost exactly. He was one of those she spoke of and I never figured out if she realized this and was in denial or if she was honestly oblivious. I told her the story of how he strangled me and that he had put his hands on me a total of three times.

“Oh…I didn’t know it was his third time, he didn’t mention that,” she said in a low voice.

“Yeah, well, even if it had been only one time it would’ve been one time too many,” I replied.

Of course, my ex wouldn’t mention anything that could potentially make him look like the person he is; cowards never do such things. I explained to his grandmother that on top of having become abusive he had nothing to offer and brought nothing to the table. She told me she hadn’t known what had been going on between us, and that she had always seen girls be so into him, but never seen him into someone as much as he was into me. My sentiments of being too good for my ex had been inhibited by humility; this I began to realize.

Humility, like most things, is wonderful in moderation, but never again will I allow myself to waste so much time with someone so undeserving as my ex out of humility. My ex’s grandmother and I conversed for a bit, explaining, discussing life, her experiences and our thoughts. She said we’d keep in touch and we hung up. Later when his stepmother called she asked me the same exact thing.

“What the hell happened?” she questioned, also with a slight chuckle.

I proceeded to tell her the same as I had told his grandmother.

“Well, do you think that you can move on from this? That you guys can work it out?”

I paused before responding. Those weren’t her words; I could tell by the way she said them. She wasn’t asking out of her own wonder, she was asking on his behalf. My mind screamed “Hell to the muthafuckin’ NAH…NO!”

“After what he has done, I can’t trust him. I would never be able to look at him the same. I don’t want my daughter to see me and think that’s ok. What he did to me would always be in the back of my mind. And…I don’t love him,” I told her.

“Well then, it’s a wash,” she stated, a couple times.

This time, those were her words; those were her true sentiments. She knew I wasn’t in love with him and had brought it up before. Her question though, when she asked if I could even consider going back to him or working it out. That rang in my head. When she had asked me that she said that she was “coming from a perspective of someone who is hurting”. Was that to imply that he was more hurt than I? Or was his “hurting” more important than what he had actually done?

As I thought about it more I began to wonder how she could possibly ask me if I would stay with him after what he had done. Had she asked my ex what his problem was and if he was going to get some sort of mental and behavioral help? Very doubtful. Not only is she a woman herself, but she is a mother to a young woman. I wondered how she would’ve felt if a man did to her daughter what her stepson had done to me. Would she try to see if her daughter wanted to stay with such a person on the abuser’s behalf? Would she support that? Did she really even know what he had done to me?

I assumed she knew but really it wasn’t discussed between us when we spoke. Surely she must not have known the truth. Otherwise, it should never have been a question, on anyone’s behalf, if I could possibly go back to him. A couple days later I called her back. I wanted to know what would make a woman ask such a thing to another, because staying in an abusive relationship was not an option I would even present to an enemy.

“I called to ask, as a woman and a mother, how or why you would have asked me if I would want to stay and work it out with him.”

She replied, “You never know what people can work out when they love each other, but you said that you don’t love him, that’s why I said it’s a wash.”

“You do know he strangled me, right?” I asked her.

She paused for a moment, as if she had been asked a question she would have denied knowing the answer to if she could, “No…I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, he strangled me. He strangled me so hard and long I really thought I was going to die.”

“No…” she said, “He told me that he had put his hands on you, and I told him that he should have never done that, but I didn’t know he strangled you. All he really told me about was the incident in the car.”

Again, my ex hadn’t told the truth. He told her and most likely everyone else, that I had kicked him in the car, about me spitting on him, but left out the details of me doing so in defense of myself and failed to mention his repeat abusive behavior. When it came to admitting his own wrongs, he cowered away and left it to others’ imaginations as to what happened. He had been manipulating people for who knows how long, and exaggerating negative ideas of me to others while downplaying his own true nature. He had hidden his true self enough over time that others believed his bullshit presentations.

Even I had gotten manipulated into making excuses and feeling sorry for him. That was what made me stay with him as long as I did; I felt sorry for and pitied him. He always seemed so pitiful the times when I left him and my kindness was used against me. People who would do such a thing are one of the worst kinds of people to come across, so be on the lookout for that red flag. My ex needs pity to exist. He doesn’t have what it takes to make himself better and true, no one ever gave him those tools. Instead they gave him excuses, and now he lives life using those excuses like a cloak to cover his shortcomings.

“That’s why I wanted to call you,” I said to his stepmother, “I figured you didn’t know the truth. Otherwise, again as woman and a mother, how could you have asked me if I would go back to someone who had done such a thing? Would you ever ask that of your daughter? What if it had been her?”

She avoided the question, “No…I didn’t know, and really I don’t want to know…”

She continued to speak, but had already said enough. In fact, she had said it all. She didn’t want to know. She wanted to maintain the image she had of her stepson, and whatever that image was it didn’t seen to involve the truth. I can assume that’s what most if not all of his family and friends wanted to do. Either that or some of them really do not know, don’t care to know, or are comfortable believing whatever they are told by him. Despite always showing my ex’s stepmother, mother, grandmother and family kindness and respect, I’m sure I will never hear from them again. They will tell you black lives matter though. People will show you whose lives really matter, upon which rock they really stand, and why their vote really doesn’t count. Just take a step back and observe. One person, one family, one community at a time you will begin to see why we are in the state we are in as a society.

The concept astounded me, that one would support the behavior of an abuser either directly or indirectly, turning a blind eye, a deaf ear, excusing the inexcusable. When you’re wrong, you’re wrong, and if we don’t teach ourselves, those among us and our children basic morals all the atrocities of society continue. Not holding people accountable allows things to continue. In my ex, my abuser, we have the perfect example of what happens when people give misguided pity and make excuses for people who do wrong, at any age.

It is clear my abuser had grown up lacking descent examples of how to treat others and be responsible for self. This also explained why at his age he would always childishly try to blame others or create an excuse for his actions even for the smallest things. Such behavior stems from individuals carrying on their fear of punishment into adulthood. That fear causes them to try to avoid being blamed for an act, as they come to associate it with punishment.

Unfortunately for some, as adults we don’t get to shift blame that way, or at least we shouldn’t. We definitely shouldn’t be condoning behavior like my ex’s and saying, “Oh, it’s because of his childhood.” What of his choices now that he is no longer a child? My ex was a big unfinished product, all grown up, lacking some of life’s most important yet basic necessities and having no desire of his own to acquire them; or perhaps no knowledge of how to, or both. How many like that do you think walk among us? Do you think making excuses for each one will solve our problems?

I realized all the times when my family and I disagreed, when I felt justified in certain behaviors even as an adult, no matter how much they loved me, no matter how much they supported me or how spoiled I may be, when I was wrong, selfish, hurtful, whatever, they still called me out on it. Despite all of that, I’ve had choices to do the wrong or the right things. Preserving and increasing what good is left in our society is a task each of us is responsible for, and mine was being shown to me again in the form of what was and what could be.

If I make excuses for myself or my daughter now, she will be doing the same for herself and her children when her time comes, just as my ex does now. No way will I let that happen. No way will I let loose upon the world yet another unfinished product inwardly lacking, and no way will I be one. Though it is not always pleasing to have your sentiments disagreed with, doing so gives us the ability to see a world outside of ourselves. It increases empathy and understanding of others as well as of ourselves.

If my ex deserves to have his actions forgiven and forgotten, then so does Trump. If you can mind your own business when your friend beats on his wife, the keep your mouth shut when a stranger to you gets their ass whooped by a cop. You might stand with Standing Rock, but “they” know you’ll sit your ass down in a minute. No one atrocity is worse than another; all are crimes against humanity. When we are ready and understand the concept of working from the inside out, that is when things will change and the odds will be tipped in the favor of the people.

 

*Music by: Superpoze – Pavane (Dream Koala Remix)