The Day After

I woke up this morning with a queasy, low-lying panic deep in my stomach. The last time I felt this way was four years ago when I was told by my ultrasound tech that I was going to have a girl, not the boy that I had hoped for. Today, it's the same horror, anxiety and sadness melted into a strange emotion that looks a lot like grief; I don't want to talk to anyone. I only want to sink a little deeper into someone's soft lap and close my eyes to the spotlight of hatred that's upon us, relentless as a search light.

Up until the last few weeks, I'd been soothing myself with "at least it's almost over," but then it occurred to me: if Hillary doesn't win, it won't be over. The extreme animosity, racism, misogyny, islamophobia, mocking of disabled people, sexism and rape culture language that was thrown in my face everyday of this campaign will continue. Underneath all of this is hatred: hatred for women, hatred for everyone different but mainly hatred for women. How else do we here in North Carolina explain a Roy Cooper and Donald Trump victory? Blaming a Hillary loss on the media or on "the candidate herself" shifts blame from where it really needs to be. Trump was elected overwhelmingly by white voters (58% to Clinton's 37%), white men (63% to 31%) and non-college educated whites (67% for Trump) specifically. We have a whole lot of racist, sexist white people in this country who couldn't stand seeing a woman elected president. That's what's really going on here.

I got a hint Tuesday when I was out canvassing in South Durham. I talked to an older (60's+) white guy and said my line, "I understand you are a Hillary supporter, is that correct?". He looked at me for a beat and said, "I'm a registered Democrat." and then closed the door in my face. At the time, I chalked it up to voter fatigue and moved on. But in hindsight, he's likely a big part of the reason why we have woke up to a nightmare of massive proportions.

No woman wants to admit there is so much more hatred out there. It's painful enough to know that birth control is on you since you're the one who can get pregnant or that you're paid less than your male counterpart doing the same work or the waste of paying taxes on feminine hygiene products just because you're a woman who menstruates. (And of course the discrimination is much worse for women of color and poor women.) But we get it, right? It's a pain we know and work with daily. But this election? This is so different. Last night and today, we got the triumphant glimpse into the face of so many of our fellow Americans as they celebrate their candidate and know that they chose him in spite of the fact that he is a violent misogynist who bullies, assaults, threatens and mocks people. That's a newer agony which few of us knew was quite so deep among our neighbors and friends.

Hillary continues to blow me away with her grace and compassion but my own manner is morose. I'm still bleeding from last night's repeated blows. The hatred has toppled me. Everywhere I look from the my place on the hard floor are more hurt people. I haven't been on Facebook in over 24 hours. I'm limiting Twitter and have turned off NPR. Don't call me; I won't pick up. All of us non-haters do have work to do, yes, but for me, today, right now, I'm taking care of me. I hope you can do the same. 

{Guest Post} More Than A Feeling

This is a guest post by a sexual abuse survivor who lives in the Triangle area of North Carolina.

~~~~~

It's been a month now, but the feelings are still there. So many feelings...

The second presidential debate was a few weeks ago and like most Americans, I managed to stomach the 90 minute debate. Just 48 hours before, a 2005 video of Donald Trump making very inappropriate comments was released.  As a woman, the comments were disgusting and his "apology" was even worse. But the breaking point for me was the post-debate video footage of Donald Trump in the crowd. The GIF of his daughter, Tiffany, backing away as he approached to give her a kiss hit me hard. Like a hundred tons of bricks. It was a unknown trigger.

How did we get to this point? In the beginning the idea was laughable. Just 18 months ago, there was a whole list of both qualified and unqualified candidates running for President. But you Mr. Trump? Really? I had more than a feeling that the worst side of politics would rear it's ugly head at some point.

See what you don't seem to understand Mr. Trump is that whether or not you said those words 11 years ago or 11 minutes ago, many women deal with words and comments like this every single day. And as we have heard from (real) men, that is NOT locker room talk. For many women like me, it brings up bad memories and feelings. It added to our daily struggle. It hurts us to the core that a major party candidate for the President of the United States would say or think anything of this nature. For many women it is about past and current physical, emotional and mental abuse. It makes us vulnerable all over again. We have thoughts of the abuse, incest and mistreatment of our bodies, minds and hearts.

Do you have any idea how much we have been through? Do you know how hard it is to be the women we want to be when we may have to face our abusers on a regular basis? Do you know how hard it is for some of us to look in the mirror at the inward and outward scars? Do you know how long it took to get over the self loathing and body shaming? Do you know how hard we try to be great wives and moms despite everything we have been through? Some of us are still living through the pain. But we are strong. We are loved and we love. We work AND take care of our families. We are survivors. But you sir, you really have no idea.

I'm just going to be honest. I can no longer listen to the political ads or watch the news when they show your latest derogatory comments. The sound of your voice makes me cringe. The thought of you becoming the most powerful person in this world makes me want to run away. I cannot let myself think about an America led by you Mr. Trump. To do that would be giving up. Giving on myself and my family. Giving up on my dreams. Giving up on my future. Giving up on my hope for a better world.

I knew from the very beginning that this was more than a feeling and I will not sit back and allow you to pretend that you are what America needs or wants for that matter. Nice try though.

Thoughts on the close of another support group

“Elizabeth has a gift for teaching us. I have tried to overcome trauma (on my own) and failed but coming to Elizabeth has given me courage and hope to keep working on it.”

— Ebony age 38

Last night, I closed the chapter on my fourth and final sexual trauma survivor support group of 2016. It was a glorious, triumphant ending. (See flowers below). There were eight women at the start and eight at the end. A few were absent at this final evening but none dropped out, drifted away or vanished without a word as sometimes can happen.  

"Support groups can be an important place to start and build on our skills speaking our stories." - Allison

Support groups are quirky little communities. Good support groups are intentionally small and invite a volleying of vulnerabilities led by someone who has been there before.  Support groups aren't official "healing" as might happen with a therapist or even mandated group therapy as can be required for someone's treatment program. But healing does often happen.

“I love that this is therapy-but it’s not! That may be appealing to someone who has never been to therapy (like myself!)”

— Catrina age 29

At a time in our history when people are virtual with others all day long, support groups are a throwback to sweeter times, when support was shared across a kitchen table in someone's home. Sometimes we don't need extensive time one on one with someone. Sometimes all we need is love, in frequent doses by people who get us. That's what we get in good support groups.

My next support group is for domestic / family violence survivors and/or survivors of partner abuse. It starts Tuesday November 8 in Durham. The group is free and open to female identified folks only. Click here for details.

Why co-parenting with an abuser can't work

"Chereyl Jackson" left her abusive partner, the father of her three year old twins, almost a year ago. She did the "right thing". So why isn't she finally free?

One of the most disheartening aspects of being a domestic violence survivor is that it can be hard to move on, even if you left your abusive partner months or years ago. Abusers are like piranhas; once they sink their teeth in, they don't let go easily. This is especially true if there are children involved in the relationship because, like most other parents, survivors who are not abusive to their children usually want the best for them. They often hope their kids will see the abusive parent in a positive light. They won't name-call or share past history. 

While the survivor mom offer chances for the abuser to show up as a good parent, abusers are not usually willing to cooperate with their former partner. They tend to think of their former partner as unworthy of them and when they do speak of her/hime, it is usually to blame or disparage. Everything is all about the abuser. They have been wronged. They deserve better. They are the ones making sacrifices. Perhaps the saddest facet of any domestic violence situation involving children is that the abuser, in spite of having great kid(s), shows little desire to change.

Chereyl Jackson wants to do right by her children, but that can be hard when her children are used as pawns by her abuser. (Abusers know that common children are one of the best ways to keep a survivor tethered.) But Chereyl has learned is something that is saving her sanity and allowing her to keep good boundaries with her abuser: you can't co-parent with an abusive ex-partner.  

In Rising Strong, Brene Brown asks, "can you be kind and respectful to your friend if they are hurting you?" (127). Her answer is "no". You cannot be kind or respectful to anyone who is hurting you, even if they are the father (or mother) of your child. And respect is at the foundation of co-parenting. Co-parenting is about working together for the greater good of the child, and working together involves respect and cooperation. No matter how hard the survivor might work to co-parent, an abuser won’t ever get there because they are more concerned with themselves than working together to raise their child. In every way, then, co-parenting then is impossible with an abuser. 

So what do you do if you can't co-parent with an abuser?

The path ahead...

The first thing you must do is accept the fact that you cannot co-parent with your abusive ex-partner as a universal truth. It may help to remember that there is an inherent give and take when you work or live with someone ;that kind of collaboration is absent in abusive relationships. Someone using power and control over someone else allows abuse to exist. A child being used as a point of leverage by their dad for greater control over their mom is abusive. There is sadness in accepting this knowledge because it is a loss. Taking time for grief, a lot or a little (whichever feels right) is essential.

The second step is to avoid negotiation with an abuser. So unless there is a clear safety issue, accept that there likely won’t be adherence to mutually established rules. Your ex wants to baptize your child for no good reason? Let him. He wants to post pictures of the kids on social media even though you'd both agreed not to? Let him. Engaging in a dialogue about his parenting vs. yours is a futile attempt in negotiation that won't ever end in compromise. Unfortunately, negotiating with an abuser does nothing except strengthen the ties between the two of you. And that's usually exactly what the abuser wants. 

Chereyl is free, but not in the way that you might think. She's free to make her own parenting choices knowing that her ex-partner might undermine them. But Chereyl is healthier, and better off parenting alone than she is tethered to an abuser that won’t ever respectfully allow her to parent.