Oh, you wouldn't put up with that stuff? STFU

I haven't posted yet about the Ray Rice "beating the fuck out of his then fiance, now wife" incident, but those of you who've been with me since the early days of this page know how I feel about domestic abuse and the shit stains who put their hands on their spouse, partner or children in anger.

I've watched in amazement and disappointment over the last few days as friends in my newsfeed have blasted Janay, the victim, and said she deserves what she gets since she decided to marry the fuckwad anyway, and she deserves no sympathy.

Wrong. No one ever, let me fucking repeat myself, EVER deserves to be beaten. To be kicked, punched, spat on, mentally, and emotionally broken down until they can see no way out. That kind of ignorance that I saw in my feed of blaming the victim and judging her for being in that situation—yes I call it fucking ignorance—is what allows scum shit like Ray Rice and other abusers to isolate their victims. LOOK at Janay's face in the press conference where Ray Rice apologized for his actions...to the public, but not to Janay. LOOK at the fear on her face.

AP photo found on WBAL News Radio 1090 

Domestic violence is NEVER ok. I grew up in a home with domestic violence. I watched first hand how my mother tried time and again to leave my stupid sack of shit asshole douchebag stepfather that beat her, me and my little sister, Scrub. I watched that motherfucker throw knives at her, pull a shotgun on her. I watched my baby sister get tied up like a fucking hog and gagged when she was a toddler so "daddy could enjoy his peace and quiet while mommy was gone."

I was there when my mom tried to ask for help and was turned away. By her own fucking family. She married the asshole and needed to learn how to control him. Yeah, how fucked up is that shit? I was there when the police officers wouldn't take her beatings seriously. I was there when my mom would hide her bruises. I was hiding mine along with her. I was there when my mom felt she had no goddamn way out. I was there each time she attempted to leave and got beaten down even more.

Did you know it takes ON AVERAGE seven attempts for an abuse victim to leave their abuser successfully....or wind up dead.

I was there when mom kicked him out for good. I was there when that psychotic fuck came with a knife and gun and cut our fucking phone lines so we couldn't call for help, and he went around trying to break into our house.

Just the other day my mom called to tell me the fucking nut job had died. You know what I felt? After years of wondering if he would catch up with us? After years of avoiding using my maiden name and protecting my identity as much as possible in public forums like social networking sites? I felt RELIEF. Relief for my mother that she wouldn't get anymore surprise phone calls again from him after repeatedly changing numbers...even after getting remarried. Relief he wouldn't some day show up where I live. Relief my kids and my sister and her family were safe. My next thought was "I hope he suffered." I hope he suffered painfully in his death. If there is anyone on this earth that I can honestly say should burn in a hell of lava shit, it's him.

You. don't. know. what a victim has been through emotionally and mentally. Oh, you wouldn't put up with that stuff? Good for you. Have a motherfucking cookie, sit down and shut the fuck up for a moment. Open your eyes to something other than the sheltered fucking world you know.

When I read those statuses judging Janay, blaming her for "her part in this" by staying with a feces covered dick like Ray Rice, I was angry. That fear on her face? I saw it day after day in my own home. I wore that look myself. After taking some time to think about what my friends had written, women I consider kindhearted which made it even harder to swallow the shit they wrote, I knew I needed to break that ignorance they had displayed.

I hope this posts gets through to as many of you reading it as possible. Share it. You don't know who in your newsfeed is dealing with abuse. You think you know what someone else is going through? I guarantee you don't know half of it.

Domestic violence is never okay. Help break the cycle. Don't empower the abuser and isolate the victim.

Resources for victims and survivors:

The National Domestic Violence Hotline

NO MORE | Together We Can End Domestic Violence & Sexual Assault

WomensLaw.org

Your past is not your future

Disclaimer: This week’s blog isn’t a hardcore Bitch session.

Sometimes something will happen and get you to thinking about how far you’ve come in life. That was the case for me the other day. It had me reflecting on the differences between my childhood and what I’ve been able to provide for my own children. 

My parents divorced when I was only 1 year old. My mother worked 3 jobs to support me and my 3 siblings, while my bio-dad moved out of the states and rarely communicated with us.  We lived in public housing and food stamps kept food in our fridge.  When I was 7 my mother married a real piece of shit, an abusive alcoholic asshole. He could never hold down a job, but my mom kept working 3 jobs to keep our family going. Everyone seemed to think my stepdad was a cool man – he could really turn on the charm sometimes. They would have been shocked to know how often he abused my mother, or beat me and my youngest sister with belts, fly swatters or even his hands. It leaves a hell of an impression on a young child to see her 3 year old sister gagged and tied up in her bedroom just so “daddy” could get some quiet time with another bottle of beer while mommy was working. Many nights my mom would lock me and my little sister in our bedroom before the asshole returned from the bar. Her instructions were always the same, “Don’t come out, no matter what you hear.” She tried to shield us from the worst of it yet I still saw him hold a shotgun to her head and throw knives at her. My mother tried many times to leave my stepdad, but it wasn’t until I was 14 that she was finally successful.  

When the asshole was finally out of the picture I started getting into trouble with the law. Go figure! I got into so much trouble that I spent a month in juvenile detention and then was removed from my mother’s home at the age of 15. Luckily, some family members stepped up and took me in so I wouldn’t be placed in a foster home. This was a major turning point for me. I changed schools, started participating in school activities and got back on the honor roll. I began to realize that I had been acting out in all of my anger and years of pain and frustration. I resolved that I would live a better life and that one day I would provide an environment for my own kids that would be so completely different than what I experienced.

I think this was really the start of my “Bitch lifestyle”. It was at this time that I knew I would never let another person treat me so horribly. It was when I knew I would always protect those that mattered to me. It was when I knew I would not become my past. I would do what it took to rise above everything I had been through.

My adult life has been so different from my childhood. I’m successful in my career. I have one college degree completed and I’m almost done with another. I have a great husband and three wonderful daughters who I instill with my beliefs of being strong, independent and determined women who won’t let someone kick them down. At the same time I teach them compassion for others. I give them opportunities to become confident in who they are.

So many people allow their past to become their future. They repeat patterns and stay with what is familiar to them. It doesn’t have to be this way. What happened in the past is not who you are in the future. It should shape who you become, but you have the power to make decisions that will change the course of your life. I didn’t have an easy childhood, but I don’t use that as an excuse as others do. I use my past as motivation for my future. You should, too. It’s never too late to be the person you want to be.