READ THIS NOW!

lubiddu:

poemsofthedead:

Also, depending on where they live, she can catch a case for this, while no charges at all will be brought against him and court will repeatedly refer to HIM as the “victim”. Been there…

Exhibit A on why I didn’t call the police after my ex tried to kill me. I did try to call when he first broke in to my apartment, because I thought I was going to end up dead and I at least wanted him to go to jail for killing me…..but shit, the phone was ripped out of the wall almost immediately after he entered—-before the 911 connection was made. Afterwards? I was just lucky. He expected to stab me in my sleep. He didn’t expect me to be awake. I’m lucky, because I have a hard head and can take a hell of a punch. I took several blows to my head with a huge Mag lite he had—-like a policeman’s flashlight. The kind that take four D batteries. He put his whole weight into it too—-pile-driving my head with it. He had a hundred pounds on me. I saw electric blue light with every blow—-the first time I saw “stars”.

Anyway. I thought I was dead. I thought that was it for me, because I could see he had at least two knives, and I thought at least one of ‘em was going into me. But…ever see that poster about ‘never give up’ with the frog halfway down the heron’s throat, but the frog’s hands are around the heron’s neck? Like that, I thought…..the last thing I’m gonna do before I leave this world is take that no good mother fucker with me. The very last thing. I was ready to fucking die. I was ready to have it all over with. Never have to live through that shit again. But I was taking that bastard out.

I was lucky. He dropped his knives through the course of the fight, or I knocked them out, and since I couldn’t get to ‘em I kept him from getting to ‘em. All that pounding I took to the head? Didn’t leave a mark, at least not one that could be seen through my hair (some of my hair fell out later in the day, leaving a bald spot). I left deep scratches in his face, like tiger scratches. Some of his skin was under my nails; just peeled back.

So I made my ‘command decision’ not to call the police. I wouldn’t have been believed. I was the one who left marks, not him. No one would have believed that he wouldn’t have been able to kill me if he’d wanted to; that I would have been at all able to fight back. I’d have been labeled the aggressor. Didja watch the Super Bowl? See the Fiat commercial? The one with the Italian chick doing the slapping? Yeah. That would have been me, the aggressor, the hot spicy bitch that likes getting slapped around so much she started it. And the police would have conveniently ignored the ninja outfit my ex had on, and the camoflage paint on his face (you can’t make shit like this up, really). He was clean cut and handsome; looked like George Clooney. Cops loved him. But not me.

Just like in the video, I’ve been out in public like that, with my ex slapping me around. Me defending myself. No one else doing a goddamn thing. Just driving on by. None of their business. Out of what—-20? occupied apartments in the building when my ex tried to kill me, none of them bothered to call the cops when I was screaming that he was going to kill me. And that had never happened before—-any noise from my apartment. But, eh. None of their business. “Some women like that sort of thing.”

And still, every time domestic violence shows up as a topic on a *f*eminist blog, someone always pipes up with a “why doesn’t she leave?” (or a “why didn’t she leave?” if she’s dead). For me, it was—-why bother. Where can I go? He’ll find me at work. I can’t quit my apprenticeship. And I’m so close, so close to topping out. Once I top out, I’ll leave town. I’ll be safe then; hit the road. I just gotta hold on. I’m almost there….

Why do we get to be the ones interrogated? About why didn’t we do this or that? Leave sooner, move further away, get a different job, go stay with friends or relative he can’t find? Call the cops, call family services, call the domestic violence hotline, call somebody? Learn self-defense, hit harder, carry a knife, use a gun? Why didn’t we know beforehand, or figure it out, or study the warning signs or which way the wind blows?

Why is no one interrogating the mother fuckers that hit women? Why isn’t anyone interrogating the bystanders that just walk on by, or close their windows, or pretend it isn’t happening (except when they want to complain about dumb bitches women that don’t do this or that).

Fuck this noise. Ain’t a goddamn thing funny about this video. Where is this woman going to find safety? In a world that sees her pain, her being attacked, her defending herself, as their fucking entertainment?

(Source: youtube.com)