i wish
birthday season
Have you noticed how racists feel the description of their racism is worse than the actual offence? Someone will say something that’s steeped in hatred and if we say, that’s racist, they bridle. “Are you calling me a racist?” To name the crime, it seems, hurts worse than the attack itself.
It’s also true of men who use violence. So many of them are cowards who seem to feel that the description of their deeds — a story like this one, anonymous and public — is more unforgivable than threats and intimidation, insults and blows.
Last night I learned the violence of the man I had been learning in recent months to slowly love. He seemed so outraged by the deliberate pain inflicted by my ex. He showed his gentleness and all his curiously and then, all of a sudden, over nothing: you dirty, nasty, evil woman.
Get your stinky white skin away from me. Skin cancer sick old white skin.
He was lounging on my tiny verandah as he said this, using my light socket to charge up his phone. You have to go, I said. I was trembling with rage and fear. And he spat. In my face. And that is what I’ll always remember.
Imagine spitting in somebody’s face. This is how we treat genocidal dictators and men who rape children. No fury could ever carry me there.
So I shoved him. I threw his shoes over the verandah. Just go. Go now. He doubled up a fist and shoved it towards me, to show me. I’ll punch you.
Paunch, he said. I’ll paunch you. Like a come-on from a cruise ship Lothario.
This was around twelve hours ago.
We need to learn to stop teaching our men to train all their rage on us and blame all their anger on women. All around you don’t you see it so incessantly: in advertising, in porn, in the entitlement of cat calls, in the idea that any man becomes a woman when he says so, in the women who say when they phone, sorry, it’s only me, in the girls who are told if he pushed you — it must mean he likes you.
This man does not like me and this is not love. When he left he said over his shoulder You are a loser, no one loves you. It’s my birthday in eight days. Birthdays hurt in this season of my age when I tried so hard and hoped so long and longed to have a child, when I was so measurably fertile and no decent man made himself known. It rained heavily overnight and this morning I went down to the garden and brought in this bouquet.
Sorry to hear this Cathoel. That’s awful. sending love & hugs xxx
Thanks lovely Renu. I cherish your loving kindness.
Oh how horrible, I am so sorry. What disgusting behaviour
It is pretty rancid to spit on or at somebody, you’re right. I mean that’s what people do to genocidal dictators and child rapists.
Glad you got out alive. ❤️
Yes! And with all my teeth. That’s the main thing. This fellow is physically powerful and a fighter. I am proud I stood up to someone so very much stronger than I am. I’m glad I did.
Think of all our sister women who lost their lives to male rage. I’ll fight, for them.
Am sorry my friend hope you’ll fine someone better and who will respect and truely love you
Plenty of men are just choked with rage and resentment and blame. I think I bring it out in them as I’m very frank and outspoken, and people who need to hide tend to find that confrontational. Its purpose, however, is to bring deeper lasting reliable real peace.
Wow, I think your birthday present is his absence. Unfortunately an easily triggered to rage man is far too easy to find.
Happy birthday Cathoel and if it’s something you wish, may you find someone who truly deserves you.
On every street corner! Don’t we know it. And isn’t it astonishing how women, who generally endure so much in a lifetime of at best constant perpetual low level assault and contempt, so rarely take out our rage on people in front of us.
Thank you Loni for this consoling wisdom which turns my birthday right-side-up. X
❤ ❤ ❤
Thank you Niamh.
Oh my friend Cathoel NO ONE should have endure that. I send you love from American sisters
Thank you so much Bert, what a kind supportive friend you are. I dearly appreciate this long distance love & our sisterhood.
Sister–can we see the bouquet?
Hi my lovely sister woman. It’s the simple Strauss of leaves I put up as the illustration for this story; their chestnut shapes & deep colours moved me. I infilled later with pink bougainvillea & some purplish pink local flowers.
Oh darling. I’m so sorry. It takes so much courage to love. You are brave my queen. I love you. ❤️
Beautiful Megan. I’m
So glad to hear from you. Thank you for these spine-tingling words of praise. I’ll live up to them.
I’m so sorry he turned out to be another abusive, sad man. I hope you’re safe from him now and he won’t come back. Sending so much love your way ❤️
So many men are so damaged but they shouldn’t pass their damage on to us, there’s no excuse for it. Thank you Kari. I mentioned to this lover some weeks back that I felt of all the unconfortable feelings he experienced — shame, melancholy, panic, frustration, etc — the only one he’d learned to articulate was rage. And the only person he felt safe to express that motherlode of rage to was me, the one person who would never attack in return. So I was copping all his painful emotions from the past and from whatever difficult day he’d had, and all in the form of blame and rage.
He seemed to be thinking deeply about this and was making efforts to be more patient and to describe rather than enacting his feeling. So this was a shock. It’s a shame.
I’m so sorry for this news. I hope you remain safe. Your bravery in this relationship, truly from start to finish, is admirable.
Oh, that is heartening to hear, thank you indeed, Bec. He was worth it, I thought. Unusual, like me. A thoughtful, sensitive person with nearly zero emotional or formal education who wanted to grow. But the rage was too much for me and these events are just deal-breakers.
Thank goodness that you know your worth, and didn’t tolerate his rudeness. He should be ashamed! He was lucky to have had attention from you at all