safety

I started working at a domestic violence shelter this week. I have a huge manual that I have to read and something I read today really stuck out: We shouldn't be asking why women stay in abusive relationships. Instead, we should be asking why men are abusive in the first place.

The fact that I had to have it spelled out for me tells me that blaming the victim is pretty damn common in our society. Obviously it's not the survivor's fault she was abused in the first place -- it's her abuser's. Abusing another person is always a choice and there's no one to blame for that but the person making that choice.

It has been such a long time since I could go to bed feeling so safe, that now that I have that security, that knowledge that I am safe, I don’t know what to do with it. How, after all that time do I just close my eyes and know no one will be waiting for me to do so. For me to be so stupid, so lazy in protecting myself, closing both of my eyes and letting my guard down for even a second, feels not only luxurious, but also very very dangerous. I trained myself to be constantly aware of what is going on around me at all times of the day and night. I hear every little noise, I hear the sea, I hear car doors shutting quietly, I hear the wind pick up ever so slightly and each time it does, I look toward my bedroom door.

Today I walked home from the training centre, about a twenty minute walk on a busy road. Out of 50 or so cars that past by me, probably 85% were driven by men. 75% of those men stared out of their window much longer than was necessary, hoping to get a better look at me and my friend who was walking beside me. Several guys slowed their cars down, a couple honked their horns or waved, and one guy offered us a lift while the another shouted "I love you" as he drove past. For the record we were both wearing the short shorts we wear to work and our work shirts. These were men of all ages, sizes and races.

I am a person who loves to take risks. I’ve found that it’s the fastest way to learning something new, especially about one’s self. Occasionally I do something stupid and have to smack myself in the head the next morning and thank the Goddesses above that nothing bad happened to me. I’ve been a very lucky girl so far.

Having said that, I want to share a little piece of advice that I learnt that applies to us all, risk-takers or not.

I was watching an episode of Oprah about women who had survived an attack of some kind. One thing they all had in common was that before they were attacked, they felt that something was wrong, and they talked themselves out of their fear.

This is an important story. I am a proud Torontonian and a proud female. (Can't call myself woman. I'm a girl.) I am a proud Pagan. I stand up for my rights. I want to live in a better world.

So I'm going to tell you about something we do once a year in Toronto. I've only done this once, two years ago. Last year I was busy being in the hospital to do anything.

The closest thing I've ever had to a 'feminist hero' is my grandmother. I admit it, I've always been closer, and looked up more to Daddy. Because he was a wonderful person: he was almost everything I wanted to be in life. But he wasn't rich or anything. I spent that time with him.