October was Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I meant to compose this post during that month, but time got away from me.
Cathy Busha used to head up the Wingspan Domestic Violence Project in Tucson and, I believe, wrote the following article in that context. A dear friend recently sent me Cathy's article via Facebook, and it resonated so strongly that I emailed her to obtain permission to reprint here. I'm grateful she agreed.
The Spiritual Gifts of Surviving Same-Sex Domestic Violence
by Cathy Busha
I
remember my spiritual liberation; it didn't happen in a church but in a
women's studies class. It was the day I discovered there was a
difference between religion and spirituality; namely, that someone could
be spiritual without belonging to an organized religion. Since that
life-altering day, I have been actively constructing my own eclectic
spirituality.
Though my spirituality evolves daily, there are
some truths I have reached. My spirituality is based as much on the
teachings of Jesus as it is on the teachings of Amy Ray. It can be found
in the sight of a Gila Monster scurrying across the desert, or in the
comfort of cuddling with my sweetie and our cats on a lazy Sunday
morning. My spirituality is in the magical moment when a spoonful of
chocolate mousse from Cafe Poca Cosa hits my tongue or in the power of
being awakened at midnight by a monsoon lightning storm. The main tenet,
though, of my personal spirituality is that I am able to learn from
every person, every situation I encounter. In each mirror I find my
private revelations are both singular and universal. I have also learned
that the most painful experiences are often the most powerful learning
tools in my spiritual growth. Surviving same-sex domestic violence is no
exception.
Surviving domestic violence has enriched my life in
countless ways. It has taught me that I am resourceful and powerful. It
has given me the strength and courage to speak out within the LGBT
communities and to name a hate crime that occurs in our homes. I have
found validation, solidarity, and healing with other survivors of
domestic violence. Surviving domestic violence has increased the
attention I place on meeting my own needs and the attention I pay to all
relationships in my life. I also continue to learn how to ask for help.
As
I sought help to leave my partner who was using violence, some
friendships deepened while others disintegrated. Offers of a spare couch
to sleep on, help in retrieving belongings, or just a patient,
non-judgmental ear showed the kindness, concern, and love of my friends.
But
I also watched as my naming the violence filtered out false friends.
The same denial that trapped me--that women don’t abuse other women and
that both people are equally to blame for problems in a
relationship--kept some friends from wanting to hear the truth. The
truth is that women do abuse other women and that domestic violence is
not a relationship issue that can be worked out in couple's therapy--it
is solely the responsibility of the person using power, control and
violence.
As a survivor of domestic violence, I have learned to
appreciate the solitude and safety I create within my own home--I no
longer walk on eggshells wondering what will set her off next. I
continue to discover and nurture my own healthy sense of entitlement. By
surviving domestic violence, I have learned the power of
forgiveness--not of my ex-partner, but of myself for staying too long. I
have learned to extend to myself the same loving patience that I
extended to the woman who hit me.
Surviving same-sex domestic
violence is not a spiritual path I would have chosen--it is a path no
one should have to travel. I remember the terror I felt as I watched the
hands that once stroked my cheek cut the head off of a teddy bear and
punch me in the lip. I cried as her voice that once said, "I want to
spend my life with you" in rage said, "I want to fucking kick the shit
out of you." I remember the confusion and pain I felt as she
systematically destroyed all the gifts, the pictures, the sweet letters
and cards I had ever made or given her. I remember the shame I felt as
we moved a dresser to hide the three-foot hole she put in the wall of
our new home with a baseball bat she swung two feet over my head. I
remember how helpless I felt as she woke me up while I was sleeping,
saying, “If I can’t sleep you can’t sleep, either.” Finally, I remember
the freedom, the power I felt when I finally said, “No more" and left
her. In choosing myself, I claimed my spirituality.
I now work
as an advocate for the Wingspan Domestic Violence Project. If you are
enduring behaviors from your partner that you would not accept from a
stranger--name calling, pushing, harm to pets, accusations of being
unfaithful, invasion of privacy, sleep deprivation, hitting, endless and
demanding messages on your pager or cell phone, destruction of
property, threats, etc—it’s time to get help. Ask yourself, "What if my
best friend told me that her partner had been treating her the way my
partner is treating me? What would my advice to her be?" Most likely,
you would tell your best friend to get out of there--that you are
concerned for her safety, that she deserves better and that you will
help her. Now look in the mirror and tell yourself.
Perhaps you
stay for some of the same reasons I did. You hope that you can learn how
to not make her angry because you believe that her rage is somehow your
fault. She has threatened to commit suicide if you leave her. You
believe her each time she says she is sorry and that it will never
happen again. You are too embarrassed to leave because no one will
believe you or you will lose friends. You fear that everyone will be
angry with your for staying too long or for destroying the myth of the
"lesbian utopia.” You’re afraid your straight friends and family will
get the wrong idea about the lesbian community. You may feel guilty and
somehow responsible for her rage because she says, "I don't get this
angry at anyone but you...you bring it out in me."
The therapist
you are both seeing for couple’s counseling does not hold your partner
accountable for her acts of violence, but instead works with you on ways
you can support your partner when she is “raging.” You may own property
together and it would be a hassle to split up. You know that she grew
up in an abusive home and that you want to help her work through her
childhood pain. You minimize the abuse and danger because her anger and
rage are so common that they now appear to be “normal.” You love her
and want to make the relationship work. It also feels important to say
that I didn’t come into the relationship with “low self-esteem.” It has
been my experience that this myth is perpetuated to keep “victims”
somehow at a distance – that they are very different from and more
“damaged” than everyone else. I did not have low-esteem; rather, I had a
really big, compassionate heart that got stepped on and exploited.
I
am thankful that my spirituality--the desire to find learning in each
situation--enables me to find some gifts I received by surviving
domestic violence--I am not thankful for the domestic violence. No one
deserves to live in fear of her partner; everyone deserves joy, safety,
and peace. Domestic violence doesn't just go away on its own; if nothing
is done to break the cycle of abuse, the violence could continue to
escalate.
If you are with a partner who is choosing to use violence, it is time to
get help, [to] start to remove those barriers to
your safety. It is time to begin the next part of your spiritual
journey--healing and joy.
