Tested and Failed

My feminist ethics were tested the other day, and I failed miserably.

Dear Woman who was being verbally abused and frightened by her irrational and irate boyfriend,
I was such a douche (and I mean that in the sense of bearing false advertising and being quite useless) and I'm really sorry and I really hope that guy didn't and doesn't hurt you.

Here is my confession:

Last Sunday I was in my house and heard random male screaming out somewhere on my block. I didn't pay it any attention, as Venice seems like the last haven for every homeless mental patient that our society has conveniently forgotten. There are plenty of crazy men screaming at any given time in this city and I have become de-sensitized to it.

My sister was walking over to meet me for our twilight bike ride on the beach so I went outside to wait for her. About 40 feet away, down my sidewalk, there was a couple arguing. The woman was telling the guy to give her her car keys, and he was screaming at the top of his lungs an inch and a half away from her face. He was accusing her of cheating on him. I stepped out into the sidewalk and glared in their direction, just to let them know that I was there. But then I sat back down on my front steps. This couple was a young, good looking couple. They reminded me of multiple past relationships that I have had (x husband included) where this very same scene played out, in almost the exact same way, and also in public. In fact, this scene has not only been played out by me, but by almost every female friend I've ever had, including my sister, who walked up to my steps at that very moment.

I said, "Is this shit the same fucking yelling I've been hearing for the past 20 minutes?"

"Yes," She shook her head, "I've been behind them almost the entire way to your house."

"Do you think I should intervene?" I'm cautious because honestly, I don't want to get shot or stabbed, and intervening in random folks' business is a good way to get hurt.

She pauses. I'm trying to gauge the situation by running scripts of past experiences where a guy has crossed the threshold from verbal abuse to physical. I think that she is too. She answers. "Yes."

Fuck. I walk out onto the sidewalk again and take a long look. The dude is around 20-23, black, wearing a white v-neck and pinkish-orange shorts. The woman has long dark hair, is young too. White, or hispanic/white maybe. Wearing jean shorts and a black tanktop with flip flops. Both of them are gorgeous. They were standing in front of a black Mercedes. Honestly, if the dude was wearing a crisp blue shirt or a white tanktop with some bright color bandanna or laces, I wouldn't say shit.

"Are you okay?" I call to the woman.

"Oh, yes. He's just..." She has that look on her face that I know so well. That embarrassed, -I can't believe this is happening so I'm going to pretend it's not - look. Still, she instinctively walks towards me.

The man turns towards me to follow her, as she is walking towards me. Fiery eyes are now fixed on me and he shouts, "WHY DON'T YOU JUST MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!?" I was surprised he didn't call me a bitch.

"Well, you've been yelling in front of my house for the last 20 minutes so now you've made it my business. So, why don't you just give her back her fucking car keys!" I wasn't yelling, but I hardened myself up. In the back of my head I thought, Shit, I am waaaay too out of shape to take this guy on.

"HER CAR KEYS!!!????" He was practically jumping up and down. He turned back to her and screamed again. "HEEEEEEEEER CAR??!! SO WHAT!? I DO NOTHING TO CONTRIBUTE?! BITCH!? (there it was.) I AM SO SICK OF YOU TAGGING ONTO A NIGGA'S COAT-TAILS! I HAVE SACRIFICED AND SACRIFICED, AND THIS WHOLE TIME YOU'VE BEEN GOING BEHIND MY BACK!!!"

She responded, " I didn't do anything!"

She looked at me and shook her head in exasperation. "There was this stupid game on the boardwalk..."

"IT WAS A LIE DETECTOR TEST!! AND WHEN YOU SAID YOU NEVER CHEATED ON ME, IT SAID YOU LIED!! YOU LIED!"

"So what?!" she laughed, "It also said that you were gay!"

Both my sister and I burst out laughing. This infuriated him intensely.

"THIS IS CUZ I'M BLACK, HUH!"

My sister says, "um, hello?, I'm black."

"NO YOU'RE NOT!"

My sister and I burst out laughing again. There is no ambiguity about her race.

"AND I HAVE TATTOOS!!"

"So what?" I rolled my eyes. "I have tattoos too. The reason you're scary is because you're screaming and acting crazy!" Why on Earth was I trying to reason with this guy? He is obviously trapped within his own reality. His behavior was unacceptable for my 7 year old, much less an adult. I began to get angry. This guy was going to make me miss my twilight bike ride too. What is the quickest way I could control the situation? These selfish thoughts led me to break my cardinal rule.

Suddenly, my mom appears from around the back of the house. I knew she would eventually hear the yelling, and I was just glad she wasn't coming from inside where she could get her gun. My mom always has a weapon. This time it was a large, pointy spade. When she saw the irate boyfriend her lips curled back against her teeth and she gripped the spade tighter. I grabbed her by the arm and told her it was okay, to get behind me. In the meantime, the guy had gone back to screaming at his girlfriend. Why wouldn't he just stop?

He was going on and on about how he was all alone, how his family is 5000 miles away and he's trying to fulfill his dream...how even though he was in three movies, it just wasn't good enough for a gold digger like her. She kept asking for her car keys, and he kept trying to get her to go into the car with him. She refused and said straight out that she didn't feel safe getting into the car with him. He then screams and punches a tree, then runs to the car and takes off. She tells me that she bought that car before she met him. I remember when my x husband punched out the front windshield of my new Corolla. This guy goes racing up the street, stops about 50 yards away, then hits reverse, screeching the tires the whole way. He double parks it, and then runs out of the car back towards us. I was baffled. I was done.

"I'm done." I said, "Give her the keys right now or I'm calling the cops!" That is my cardinal rule. Calling the cops. Having been sexually assaulted by a cop before, and the general treatment of people of color or the poor by the police brings me no faith in the LAPD. I swore that I would never call the cops on someone unless my life was in danger. He wasn't listening to me. "Fine! I'm calling them right now!"

"911 emergency..."

"yes, I'm at xxx address and there is this guy who is just being really aggressive to his girlfriend and won't give her back her car keys."

"Okay, calm down." What the fuck? I was calm. I walked a few feet away so that I could hear better, as the guy was still screaming at his girlfriend. My goal was to scare him into giving her the keys by calling the cops. However, I didn't think it through because he was imploring her to leave with him because I was calling the cops.

Suddenly, I noticed that both of my neighbors had arrived home and everything started moving really fast. Two roommate bachelors, white guys, mid 30's. Not very likable or unlikeable, but I never really talk to them. I was vaguely aware of what they were doing while simultaneously on the phone with the police operator, who had a condescending tone in her voice already.

"Ma'am, what do you mean, being really aggressive?" there was that tone again.

"I mean, he's not hitting her but he's yelling and screaming in her face."

"What is his race?"

What the fuck? I thought of Oscar Grant. "Um...I don't think that's important, I think you just need to send a car over here now."

"Ma'am! I can't send anyone out until you give me a proper description. Now I need to know his race!"

"No."

She made one of those exasperated breathing noises. She began to say something about a gang of young, male, mexican perps with white T-shirts tagging in the area or something, but my attention was now on one of the neighbors I recently mentioned.

He had money in his hand and he was holding it out and booming in a loud voice, " I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY TO GO AWAY AND TAKE THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE." His tone was also very condescending. He was treating them like hood rats.

"Ma'am! Can you at least tell me what he is wearing?"

"Pink shorts!"

Now both neighbors were yelling. At both of them. The one who looks like James Spader says that he doesn't want this shit in his front yard and they need to get the fuck off.

The tall neighbor with a missing tooth turns to glare at the woman. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT TOO FOR BEING SO PASSIVE AND JUST STANDING THERE! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, HUH?"

He was shaming her, and I guess she probably looked to me for support, but then saw that I was on the phone with the cops. Her boyfriend was not yelling at her anymore, but pleading with her to go. She let him grab her by the hand and lead her back to the black car.

"Well now they're leaving because you took so long with this race bullshit!" I screamed into the telephone before hanging up.

So she left with him. And I let her go. After she had stated earlier that she did not feel safe getting in the car with him she ended up doing it anyway. And I am partially responsible for that. I should have just had her come inside and offered her a ride home. Why didn't I do that?

My mom looked at my sister and I and said, "Who knew that the neighbor was such a passive aggressive asshole?"

My sister looked at me and said, "Why did you call the cops?"

I shrugged, "C'mon, let's go on this bike ride before the police really do get here." I did not want to talk to them, but they never did come. Even though I gave them the address.

Sometimes the Universe sends you a test. To see if you can walk your talk. And sometimes you fail (and by you I mean me).

There are so many things wrong with this news article that it makes my stomach hurt

http://www.nbclosangeles.com/news/local/NATLRihanna-Has-Horrific-Injuries.html


NBC's take on the violence perpetrated by Chris Brown.

They write that he is hurting more than she is, because his career may be ruined?

They confirmed that she has horrific injuries, including, "Rihanna, 20, had contusions to her face, bite marks on her arms and fingers, a bloody nose and a split lip with swelling and bruising on her body...Brown allegedly beat Rihanna so badly with his fists that her eyes were nearly swollen shut, and she could barely open her eyes for police photos"

so this is not as bad as losing one's job?

Here is something else that bothers me.

"Not only is Brown’s career hurting, but he’s said to be lovesick as well. The Daily News reported that Brown has tried contacting his estranged Barbados-born songstress girlfriend only to be rebuffed."

First of all, poor, lovesick Chris Brown! Why does he get to have a name, yet Rhianna is reduced to "his estranged Barbados-born songstress girlfriend" Ummm. She's RHIANNA! This is so typical of victim devalue-ment with our mainstream media. She's nameless and "rebuffs" his "lovesick" attempts. I think I'm going to puke.

And this is the part that I knew would come. Character assassination of the victim. "sources described the Rhianna as a clingy girlfriend who can't bear to have Brown out of her sights." I know he beat the shit out of her, right? But after all, she was insecure.

News reports are supposed to be unbiased. This one sounds like the author, Andrew Greiner, has some issues himself.

And we actually sit around and wonder why violent assault against women is so prevalent?

dirty laundry

Holy shit this is scary. Deep breathe. No body likes to air their dirty laundry. However, often when we lie to others the lie is believed by ourselves. In order to stay connected to my authenticity, I am going to write some things that I hate to think about in hopes that the extra oxygen will help those parts of me heal. I'm officially releasing all this crap from my being.

First, my husband beat me on the morning after our wedding. We were married at the little chapel of flowers in Vegas June 8, 2002 by a bi-polar Elvis impersonator. We did a lot of drugs and partied separately all night long and he passed out before I did in the morning. We were sharing our suite at Caesar's Palace with Jimmy's paraplegic friend from Illinois. Jimmy's friend had been in a car accident because he was in the back of a pickup truck when the driver, who was on acid, crashed the vehicle. Jimmy's friend smoked meth to pass his time.

Jimmy's friend was lying on the bed and I realized that he had shit all over himself. I ended up lifting his broken, shit covered body and carrying him to the shower. I showered him, dressed him and cleaned up the sheets. He was grateful.

After that I decided I was going straight to the pool to lie out in the sun and I walked into the bedroom to get my glasses. Jimmy woke up suddenly. His eyes were normally blue but when he opened them they seemed black. His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist hard. "You stole all my shit." He said gripping me tightly. "You've been taking my drugs and selling them, haven't you, bitch!"

I was offended. He hadn't realized that he was the one that took all the meth amphetamine with him last night. I told him he was being a stupid dick and to go back to bed and by the way, I just cleaned up your shitty friend, jerk.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me on the bed. Then he wrapped his hands around my throat and started to choke me. I'm pretty strong and I fought back, full of rage, but he was still stronger than me. Not to mention he was a sociopath after a meth binge. I took out my hair clip which was one of those ones with the chopstick that you stick through the bun. I stabbed him with it on his arm. He grabbed me and lifted me up, and threw me into the jacuzzi bath tub, still full of last night's bathwater, now stale and cold. I screamed in rage and scrambled out. He grabbed me by the hair and straddled me on the floor but I landed a few good punches.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. It was the cops. I put on a happy face and Jimmy turned on his charm. We got them to leave. I flopped on the bed, crying, and tried to overdose myself on zanex. I don't really remember the ride home. Jimmy said I just cried the whole time. I didn't know it then, but I was 6 weeks pregnant. When I was eight months pregnant with her, Jimmy head butted me one time and I developed toxemia. That's when I swelled up like Violet Beauregarde in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

The main reason that it took me so long to leave him was because I had social workers up my ass for smoking pot while pregnant. I did and still do believe that it was not harmful to my baby. In fact, it was the only thing that aloud me to cope with a nightmare pregnancy with a nightmare husband. It really helped when I went into labor, it helped me stay calm when I was the most helpless feeling and in a complete panic. I looked for studies telling me the harmful effects but there were none. Anyway, I had a social worker come to my house for almost a year and I was adamant about keeping up appearances. At any time that social worker could decide to take my child away. I wanted her to think we were the perfect, little family and I played the part well. When I think back on all the things that happened that year I wish I had gotten rid of him much sooner. He was able to do a shit load of damage in such a short amount of time.

Well, believe it or not, my daughter is perfect. She is healthy, beautiful, smart, precocious and confident. The body is a miraculous thing. Her angels must have worked hard to protect her when she was in my belly since I wasn't able to. At times I can forgive myself for that.

As for me, well, I've come a long way. I still have PT SD from it all and deal with overwhelming anxiety at times. Hospitals give me anxiety attacks and even doctor appointments. I haven't been in a relationship since my divorce and that was over four years ago. Jimmy is not in our lives at all and I believe I have a healthy, loving home and a great family (me, my daughter, and my mom, oh and all the freakin' animals) all be it an odd one. We do just fine.

As for Jimmy, I actually can thank him now and feel love for him. He was the one who talked me out of getting an abortion. He was instrumental in my destruction, which was absolutely necessary in order to create the person I am today.

Reborn and awake. A conscious person. This person who believes in love, magic, Goddess, peace and quiet, compassion and justice. This person who mothers and nurtures, rages at patriarchy, writes, plays the frame drum and guitar, goes to college, weaves spells under the full moon, and does volunteer work. This Goddess who feels so alive even when scared to death, and is grateful for every moment of this freaky roller coaster ride we call life.

R

p.s. domestic violence is an international epidemic. The stats say 1 out of 4 women have been abused but that's just what has been reported. I think the number is more like 3 out of 4. Maybe if I would have called one of those dv hotlines, where one could remain anonymous, I could have received information that would have allowed me to have the courage to leave Jimmy sooner. If you are experiencing domestic violence, which includes verbal and mental abuse, I urge you to call, 1800-799-SAFE or dial 211.

A yucky short fiction piece that slithered it's way outta my brain

Ariadne’s Mark

Mark smiled at the server. “A glass of water, honey,” he said. He looked down at the newspaper in front of him. He figured that stupid woman would probably take a year to get him the fucking water. He didn’t even know if she understood English. Didn’t look like it.

A minute later, he noticed her plain, unmanicured finger nails as she set the glass of ice water in front of him. “Thank you so much,” he said. She wearily smiled back while wiping crumbs off the counter.

“Anything else?”

“Not right now, thank you.”

The server couldn’t prevent the slight eye role. The graveyard shift was always full of bums.

It was three a.m. at Norms Diner and Mark was drunk and exhausted from the anger of being fired from his accounting firm. Arri wouldn’t get off work at the club for another hour and he knew that she was feeling tired. He didn’t want to tell her that he got fired for sexual harassment. The only person sleeping well tonight was probably that bitch, import from butt-fuck India that his firm hired as team manager when he had been in line for the position for the past 6 months. He hadn’t seen her standing behind him when he was telling a co-worker that she probably got the job ‘cause Indian bitches suck good cock. Looking down at the stained counter, he tried to focus his eyes on the newspaper but couldn’t keep them from blurring.

Suddenly, the pocket in his slacks began to vibrate. It was a text from Arri.

Made mucho $$
Wana cm gt me?
Miss u babe!
Xoxo-Ariadne;)

He grabbed a fifth of Jack before jumping in the 1993 mercedes to go get her.

Ariadne planted a huge, soft kiss right on his mouth before throwing her bag in the car and jumping in next to him. She rubbed the inside of his thigh and asked him how his day was.

“Fine until I had to sit here for forty minutes waiting for your ass to come out of that hole.” He didn’t mean to sound so angry.

“I know, I’m sorry but this customer came in and wanted two thousand dollars worth of dances! He tipped me another grand, too.” Ariadne beamed with pride. “I made like five grand tonight, baby!” She began to nibble on his ear lobe. She whispered, “ let’s take a vacation to Mazatlan again! You could do me up against the wall at Senior Frog’s and then we could do it again on the shore with the dolphins watching. Remember that, baby? That was magic. You’re magic, my love.”

She reached for his cock, visibly disappointed that he wasn’t erect. He winced, as normally he’d be hard as granite right now. Sometimes he couldn’t get over the fact that she made so much more money than he did. Especially since he had a fine, college education and came from a good, middleclass family.

“I’m sure you made it worth their while,” he said, as he peeled out of the strip club parking lot. He noticed her eyes sadden as his words came out with a slight, sarcastic sting. He took another swig of Jack. He didn’t mean to sound so angry.


Back at the apartment, Mark grabbed a fistful of Arri’s thick, long, black hair. She was working furiously on him. Using both hands to force him even deeper into her mouth. She knew that’s what he liked best. He pictured it was his bitchy, slut supervisor going down on him. Having no choice about it. Suddenly, pain shot through his cock as Ariadne had gotten a little too carried away, raking his skin with her teeth.

“You dumb, fucking BITCH!” The back of his right hand came down hard on her porcelain cheek. She fell on her side yelping like a small puppy. He had never hit her before. He had never hit anybody before.

“Oh my God,” he said. He instinctively reached out to help her up.

She shrunk away from him, her eyes as black as her hair. Some blood ran from her lip, staining the white carpet. She reminded him of Snow White.

“Get AWAY from me!” She screamed.

“No. I didn’t mean to…” He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down, but holding her firmly so that she couldn‘t run away.

“HELP!” She was hysterical. Trying to fight him. He wished she would try to understand. He held her even more firmly.

“No, Shhhhhh! No! You don’t - Just shut up for a second, okay!” He reached out to help her. To calm her down. To make her listen. He fucking loved her for Christ’s sake! She wouldn’t stop. He had to make her be quiet before the neighbors heard her screaming. “Shhhhhhh.” She was being quieter now. He realized his hands were locked around her throat. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

He held her now quiet head in his lap. Her eyes were bloodshot and frozen in a look of panic. Her tongue was swollen and blue, forcing itself out between her lifeless, red lips.

Tears wouldn’t come even though he knew that he had extinguished one of the most beautiful lights the world had ever known. He didn’t mean to get so angry. She would have made him the best banana pancakes in the morning. She would have kissed him gently and told him how everything would be all right. She was a rare jewel. She was the type of girl that would do anything for her man. Anything.