The sad part of it is that between the time that I filed this piece in early May 2008 and the time it was published June 1, Wendy Thibeault of Cortland was murdered by her husband, Randy. The couple were acquaintances of my wife and I. He was convicted in March and is imprisoned in Attica. The epidemic of domestic violence continues.
Here's the column:
We share our lives,
but live in different worlds
• Men may not mean to strike fear in women, but they do.
The woman slept soundly, alone in her bed.
A dark figure slipped into the room. The man crept closer, reaching out.
She awoke with a start. Fear flashed across her face as she coiled back. Adrenalin pumped into her veins.
Then, the face looming over her snapped into focus.
"Oh my God, you scared me."
"Sorry," I said. "I was just trying to get the remote."
That'll teach me to sneak up on a black belt, even if it is my wife.
But aside from the dangers of a potential backfist strike, seeing the look of fear and panic in the face of someone I loved, I had to ask myself: "Why have men and women become such enemies?"
It's a question that has taken me 10 years to learn to ask.
It was 10 years ago that my wife, Amy, took her first karate lesson. I remember the day she took the test for the lowest grade belt — yellow. She had been so nervous she wouldn't let me go to cheer her on. When she came home, she popped open a beer and relaxed, satisfied to have made the cut. She had started her journey, and I was happy for her.
While I've never taken a formal karate class in my life — running had been my athletic passion — Amy's journey into martial arts and self-defense became my journey, too. In the years that followed, I watched many belt tests. I made friends with her instructors. I heard stories of women who had been attacked and the fears many women face constantly. I skimmed through the books Amy used for self-defense classes that she left around the house.
Before all this, I was probably like most men, unaware that women may share their lives with us, but live in an entirely different world. As Gavin DeBecker explains in his book, "The Gift of Fear," men very rarely worry that someone could hurt them. But a woman can feel that threat almost constantly.
That's because of men.
When I crept up to the bed to snag the remote, I had triggered one of the iconic fears for women — that of a man standing over them as they sleep, about to attack. There are lots of similar images: the man following the solitary woman on a jogging path, the man slipping a drug into a drink, the man staring through a window. For more of such images, check out the Lifetime Movie Network.
The media generate many of these images and sell them for a quick buck. Women are beaten, raped and abused on television for entertainment. At the end of the story, the bad guy usually loses but only after a celebration of his violence. I can't help but think there are some men who watch these images, taking notes, planning what they would do differently.
Now, this is why I am so impressed with Amy. Not only does she despise the images of violence on television, she has found a way to help women fight back against this culture of violence. She teaches women how to stand up for themselves, how to be alert to danger signals, how to escape and survive. What instructors of karate and self defense do is important, but it's only half the job.
To put an end to violence against women — either from a stranger or from a domestic partner — men must accept their responsibility. Because, sadly, if all women were to stand up tomorrow and declare violence against women must stop, it would still continue. But if all men also declared violence against women must stop, it would stop.
Could it be that simple? Let's try this. I ask that all men reading this column to promise to not hurt or threaten women. OK? Done.
No, it isn't that simple. Although many of you who read the previous paragraph might have shrugged and said, "Sure, no problem," there are some of you who are the problem. Some of you recently put that look of fear and panic into the face of your wife or partner. And when you did it, you felt satisfaction. You figured you were winning whatever conflict you were in. But what you must understand is that when you create that reaction in the face of someone you are supposed to love, it has nothing to do with love, but with power and control.
Some of you may even think you can make that promise but in weaker moments become the insistent, the obsessive, the stalker, the controller. You can't understand why the object of your desires just can't see how perfect your life together will be. And you are probably on an express train into a world of trouble. If you read "The Gift of Fear" — and all men really should — you might recognize yourself. And there are other men who just don't realize how dangerous the world can be for a woman.
No, ending violence against women is not as easy as just asking for everyone to make a promise. But doesn't it seem so wrong that it can't be?
So then, if we can't get the ideal of all women standing up against violence and all men standing up against violence, let's try something else. What if all those — men and women — who are willing to see the danger that must be faced, took a stand? That might make a difference.
At the very least, men and women wouldn't be enemies, but allies.
Ed Bond is a (former) copy editor at the Star-Gazette and an adjunct faculty member of the journalism department at Ithaca College. His commentary appears periodically on this page.
City:
State:
Section: Opinion
Page: 12
From: Staff
Source: Staff
No comments:
Post a Comment