Sunday, May 29, 2011

'Blame the victim' mentality

I have been thinking a great deal lately about the pervasive blame the victim mentality that exists within this culture (and many other cultures, too).  The above link describes this mentality:
                                                                                                                       Victim-blaming attitudes only work to marginalize the victim and make it harder for her to come forward and report the abuse. If she knows that you or society blames her for the abuse, she will not feel safe or comfortable coming forward and talking to you.

Victim-blaming attitudes also reinforce what her abuser has been saying all along; that it is her fault this is happening to her. It is NOT her fault or her responsibility to fix the situation; it is the abuser’s choice. By engaging in victim-blaming attitudes, society allows the abuser to perpetrate violence against his partner while avoiding accountability for his actions.

One of the reasons I have been thinking about this mentality lately is due to its pervasiveness even within so-called feminist or radical communities. This mentality can also be called the "it takes two to tango" mentality, since so many people see abuse as a relationship issue - something that requires full conscious participation and perpetuation by two parties. This mentality is extremely dangerous and further perpetuates the "she deserved it" or "she asked for it" mentality that is held by many when it comes to issues of sexual assault, coercion, or abuse. 

Within activist communities, exploitation and oppression are generally discussed as systemic issues within this civilization. I have heard many anarchists refer to the government and this civilization as abusive - both literally and metaphorically (and I agree with this analysis). In addressing issues of colonization, racism, and sexism as systemic to governmental structures, no anarchist or activist I know would dream of stating or insinuating that colonization, racism, or sexism were somehow caused by Indigenous peoples or people of colour or by womonfolk; no anarchist or activist I know would dream of implying "it takes two to tango" and that within the context of a relationship (as held by the people and the state), both parties were responsible for the abuse that was being perpetuated. It sounds absolutely ludicrous, doesn't it? One clearly has a dominant amount of power over the other. And yet these same activists do not seem to skip a beat in failing to apply this same analysis to interpersonal relationships in which abuse is being perpetuated - a situation in which the abuser has a dominant amount of power over the victim. Time and again, the survivor of the abuse is re-victimized by being told she was somehow a part of the cause of the abuse, and told that if only she had (pick one): behaved differently, acted differently, spoken differently, made different choices, had better boundaries, gotten help sooner, been more personable, been more transparent, stood her ground, been more flexible, been stronger, etc ad nauseum, the abuse would not have occurred. All of a sudden a behaviour that was perpetrated on her and against her without her permission is her fault.

Example of Victim-Blaming Attitude: “There are possibilities for a happy relationship if both parties are willing to change.”

Reality: This statement assumes that the victim is equally to blame for the abuse, when in reality, abuse is a conscious choice made by the abuser. Abusers have a choice in how they react to their partner’s actions. Options beside abuse include: walking away, talking in the moment, respectfully explaining why an action is frustrating, breaking up,  etc.

Additionally, abuse is not about individual actions that incite the abuser to hurt his partner, but rather about the abuser’s feelings of entitlement and desire to control his partner.

When friends and family remain neutral about the abuse and say that both people need to change, they are colluding with and supporting the abusive partner and making it less likely that the survivor will seek support.

[Disclaimer: I feel wary to describe explicit details of the conversation I discuss below, out of a desire to keep from exposing this womon's story without her explicit permission to do so. It's tricky, because I feel the need to speak of my own reactions to the words she shared with me and the affect they've had on me, while I simultaneously recognize her every right to privacy. For that reason, I will be sharing certain specific statements she made, but will change details of a story she shared with me. I will certainly not be using or giving out her name.]

Not long ago I had a conversation with a member of the community that I found distressing. I confronted her after recognizing that she had been ignoring me, as she had gone so far as to turn and walk away when I waved and said hello. In this conversation, she very kindly let me know that, since I had a mental illness, it might alter my perceptions of what I thought was abuse. She defended the behaviour of the man who abused me. Since she had spoken with him and believed what he had shared with her, she felt she had an understanding of what had gone on within the relationship. She told me I had not been transparent enough. I still am unclear as to what that statement means or implies. She shared a personal story with me about her experiences of both receiving and witnessing abuse. My blood ran cold when she described her belief that a womon she had known was using her bruises to gain sympathy. She described the womon as being equally as abusive as the man in the situation, and that when he beat her she would use her bruises to garner sympathy. The phrase "used her bruises" has been ringing in my head ever since.

After this conversation, I discussed what was said with a few close friends and expressed my distress over her perception of abuse. I felt totally bewildered and unable to understand why she believed that a womon brave enough to expose the bruises of her beatings, and to seek out help through this exposure, would be thought to be using the very real physical evidence of abuse. This conversation really brought home to me the fact that there is no 'right' way for an abused womon to behave. Whatever her response to the abuse is, it will be criticized. For example, if she speaks up and out about the abuse, she will be accused of gossiping or making "too big of a deal" out of a situation, or "trying to get sympathy". If she does not speak out at all, she will be accused of not actually having been abused, or told that "it couldn't have been that bad", or accused of being too weak or too passive. If she attempts to hold her abuser accountable, she will be called aggressive or angry or a man-hater. If she accepts her abusers treatment and defers to him publicly despite the abuse, she will be accused of encouraging it or not being assertive enough. On and on and on. The survivor is condemned simply for being abused, regardless of her chosen path of coping.

So why do people blame the victim of abuse? One reason I find compelling and believable is described at the above-mentioned link:

One reason people blame a victim is to distance themselves from an unpleasant occurrence and thereby confirm their own invulnerability to the risk. By labeling or accusing the victim, others can see her as different from themselves.  People reassure themselves by thinking, "Because I am not like her, because I do not do that, this would never happen to me."

I believe this is an issue that I have seen played out amidst womonfolk in particular. I have been a believer of it at one point too, though I am ashamed to admit it. All too often, if  a womon comes forward about a man that has abused her, many times I think as womonfolk in a patriarchal culture, we attempt to feel less vulnerable by entertaining beliefs such as: believing that we would never let that happen to us; believing that even if it is the same man that was abusive, it was to other womon, and he could never possibly do that to me; believing that since he is so nice and sensitive and kind, she must have been truly horrendous to him in order to cause him to treat her that way. In a sense, these beliefs can keep us feeling safe or insulated, and we can continue to believe that bad things only happen to bad people, and if we are good people bad things will not happen to us. I'm not trying to say we all consciously think this - I believe it is an extremely automatic and unconscious belief system that we would be hard-pressed to admit even to believing in.

Another good link, though brief, on this topic can be found on the Sanctuary for the Abused website. I'm going to finish this entry with a quote from the link:

WOMEN ARE NOT GUILTY FOR VIOLENCE & ABUSE COMMITTED BY MEN ON OUR BODY, IN OUR MIND, AND SPIRIT. THIS VIOLENCE HAPPENS BECAUSE OF MEN'S GREATER POWER AND THEIR MISUSE OF THAT POWER.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Co-Creating Community

This weekend my Mom and I took a mini-vacation and went to a small neighbouring island, where we mostly ate and walked and read and drank tea. It was a break we both needed. Over supper one night, my Mom and I got onto the topic of anarchist activism in Greece, and she brought up her poor opinion of anarchism. She admitted that this opinion was based on behaviour of my former partner, who was an outspoken self-identified anarchist. She said she associated anarchism with my former partner's behaviour, which she described as aggressive, self-serving, self-centered, and assumptive. This was something she feared all anarchists were, and that this behaviour was somehow wrapped up in the politics. I explained to her how I felt my former partner's behaviour could in no way be described as "anarchist" - how the behaviour itself was the antithesis to what anarchism purports to be struggling for (inclusion, freedom, cooperation, patience, solidarity, etc). I introduced the term manarchist to her and explained that many womonfolk in the community used that term to describe my former partner and men like him - men that refer to themselves as anarchist, though seem to have missed the point of anarchism entirely as these men further perpetuate hetero-patriarchal norms and continuously take advantage of womonfolk.

The conversation got me to thinking about my own reasons for identifying as an anarchist. My thoughts and emotions on anarchism and the anarchist community as a whole have shifted since coming out as a survivor of abuse and since calling out my former partner on being an abuser. The truth is that the sharp inadequacies of the community in dealing with issues of sexual predation, abuse, and assault have always been obvious to me - however, personally experiencing it has brought the issue into a sharper focus. In talking about my experiences with friends and acquaintances, an absolutely alarming number of womonfolk I've spoken with admit they do not go to many anarchist events or meetings because a man that abused/assaulted/harassed them goes, or that they do not feel safe due to the amount of space the men take at such events/meetings. I've spoken with womonfolk who have dropped out of the larger anarchist community entirely after leaving abusers who are in the community. I have spoken with womonfolk who have been raped, abused, assaulted, harassed, and/or threatened by men who are still active participants (and in some cases organizers) within the anarchist community. I spoke with a friend who used to table at the local anarchist book fair who said she was not going to anymore, as she did not consider it a "safe space for wimmin of colour." I know a number of people who are boycotting this years local anarchist book fair (myself included) as two of the event's organizers are noted sexual predators that multiple womonfolk have spoken out against. These men continue to participate and dominate the anarchist community because no one is stopping them or addressing their inappropriate behaviour. Time and time again, it is the victim of the violence that has to change her life - who has to separate herself from a community that has all of a sudden become less safe and less supportive. Time and time again, it is the victim of the violence who is forced to be the one to take a stand, to make herself even more vulnerable, if she wants to attempt to address or change the behaviour of these men.

I realize that what I am experiencing is not a lessening of faith in anarchism, but in anarchists. What I see happening in my community (and hear about happening in other communities) is the continual punishment of the victim by inferring she is making too big of a deal of the situation; she is dividing the community; she is drawing focus away from broader anarchist goals; she is (and even though it shouldn't surprise me, I'm shocked every time I hear a variation on this theme) "crazy". This is, of course, absolute bullshit. Though my believing - my knowing - that this is bullshit does not make the community any safer for any other womonfolk if I do not speak up.

I have been speaking, scheming, and fantasizing at length with womon friends about what a truly anarchafeminist community would look like. It seems we have reached a point where we are no longer interested in trying to educate and reform the current anarchist community, and are instead interested in creating our own community - co-creating it from the roots on up. This inspires and strengthens me.

So I pose these questions to you, either to answer for your own self or to share the answers with me or others: What would an anarchafeminist community look like to you? How would it differ from what we see in anarchist communities?

Thursday, May 5, 2011

Emotional vulnerability

When I first started this blog, I remember talking to supportive folks in my life about how desperately I was yearning to be heard. I had spent so much time remaining silent on the topic of my abuse, and denying it as a reality, that the only times I did begin to explore my emotions around it was in the safe and contained space of my journal. Writing in my journal was a way of exploring some of the realities I found too painful to speak of out loud or share with others. Eventually, writing in my journal became a mandatory practice for me as it was a place in which I was safe, a space in which my abuser could not get to me. After some time of writing about my experiences with him, and in turn reading through months of writing about the abuse, I was able to move out of my journal and start having conversations with people in my life about it. My journal started to feel confining and frustrating to write in - there all of the abuse was, and my emotions and responses to it, laid out on a page which was tucked neatly into a book with a cover that closed. Tucked neatly into my bedside table, where no one could read it or see my pain. Writing in my journal started to feel like it was an act of hiding - no one could hear or see my pain because I chose to close the page on it, put it away, and keep it inaccessible to others. Starting a blog was my antidote to that sensation. I had desire to begin screaming my experiences as loud as I possibly could, because while being so neatly contained they were not being adequately worked out of my system. They seemed to simply build up and spill over the pages and simmer in myself, with no place to go.

This blog has been a safe space for me to feel heard, and to feel that I am doing something towards changing my life and progressing down my path of healing. Not long ago it started to feel less safe for me. The act of blogging about my experiences online went from feeling like an act of empowerment to feeling like too risky or vulnerable an act. I now see it as both - an empowering act that still holds risks and an element of vulnerability to it. Vulnerability is something I have been struggling with a great deal as of late. Sharing vulnerability, or feeling vulnerable in any context, is a triggering experience and I respond with profound fear of being taken advantage of. Even feeling vulnerable when I am alone is scary for me. As I explore this, I realize my body does not yet know that it is safe to feel vulnerable again. Vulnerability with my abuser was a dangerous and painful act that often resulted in negative consequences for me.

I want to work on experiencing healthy doses of vulnerability - experiencing it as just another emotion in the vast repertoire of emotions available to me, and not as an inherently negative or dangerous thing. I had to take a break from blogging to revisit what it was to feel safe and contained in my journal writing; I'm returning to my blog to revisit what it is to take risks and share vulnerability as an act of empowerment. I'm wanting to work on balancing these things, and appreciating them for what they are.

I'm going to end this entry with a quote from an author that I loved as a child:

"When we were children, we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable. But to grow up is to accept vulnerability... To be alive is to be vulnerable." -Madeleine L'Engle