I was probably around 8 years old and had ventured out on my Grandmother’s second floor balcony in a house she rented. There I saw her (my uncle’s girlfriend) hanging. He had her in his grip and was choking her until her eyes became bloodshot. I don’t think he noticed me at first. He was too enraged to. I stood there frozen with fear that he would let go and drop her. I don’t remember screaming but somehow my uncle snapped out of his rage to notice I was standing there….witnessing this horror. This memory has haunted me ever since. I don’t think there is a single woman in the generation above me (on both sides of my family) that weren’t a victim of domestic violence and/or sexual assault. Domestic Violence is so personal to me. While I’ve never directly experienced it, I’ve lived it through many of the women in my family. I think it’s part of the reason why I haven’t settled down. Most of the women in my family were the bread winners and still were getting their asses beat daily. Over the years, I’ve had several hard conversations with some of the abusers in my family. Not every abuser is a monster to everyone they come in contact with. Some can be quite loving to their kids while blackening the eyes of their wives. So much more I could say about DV. I’ve a million stories that lie within my heart. Before I go, there are a few things I want to make clear about DV: 1. The battered women’s syndrome is real. It does not discriminate against race, socioeconomic status, age, or even sometimes gender. 2. An abuser tends to be very charismatic person. It’s usually someone you would never suspect. Hence why they get away with it for so long. And 3. Not all abusers are the same. They have all different kinds of traits yet have some dangerous traits in common. I knew some quick to anger and others who were silent attackers…
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