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That really hurt

9/30/2015

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 Let me begin by saying I have never once in my life been struck by a man physically. I know women who have. It is almost surprising to me that I have not as sometimes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That is not to say my parents fought with fists, they did not that I am aware. Frankly my dad is just not that kind of dude by far. But life happens and some time after my father left our home, I saw and heard too much through walls that did not sleep. Abuse is generational. Whether I look back to my grandparents' time, parents' time or now, I have never in my entire life met anyone, especially a woman who deserved to be struck by another person. . . ever! October is national domestic abuse awareness month. I am doing my part to lend my voice to the fight to end it, pun intended.

I have vivid memories from my personal reference. My closest personal encounters with abuse came in the 11th grade. A popular boyfriend who played football in college broke up with me. After we broke up, he said he never wanted to see me out. It was the first time I heard the word forbid, even had to look it up. I guess he was saying I should be both the broken up with girlfriend and the one who never leaves her house again.  One night I did go out. When this ex-boyfriend who broke up with me saw me, he bolted toward me with an open hand to strike me it appeared. Just in his path was my fearless BFF Carla who interrupted his inertia and slapped him clear across his face instead. You had to be there to believe that one for sure!

The second time I was in college, again with an athlete (I did not learn my lesson it seems). This time basketball. I went from my college to his college for a house party. I did not drink then. Instead, I watched him get sloshed. Not once inside the party did he speak to me, so after awhile I danced and socialized with other people I did not know. After some time passed my "date" got on the house microphone and cursed me out with big, nasty, vile, hurtful words that did not describe me in the least. I was desperate to get back to my dorm but knew no one at the party to ask. Likely no one would have taken me anyway, given my "date" was a superstar in their midst. So after watching this inebriated date pee  in the parking lot on his car, he took me home, so I thought. Miles down the road he reached over me in the passenger seat and opened my door while speeding down the road. He told me to get out! I did not move. When I was back in front of my dorm I used every single one of those words right back at him that he had spewed into the microphone. I added just a few for flavor. I was one angry black woman who was not playing and would not be played with again.

These were the last times anyone ever came close to hurting me physically. I was sixteen and twenty years old respectively.

Another story (and there are more) was not mine to tell but that of a friend. Since it is not my story, I will just say this. At about our same age at the time (age 20) her boyfriend who claimed to love her immensely, broke several bones in her body including breaking her toes, all of them. Another very close friend was murdered by her boyfriend. None of us were age twenty-one yet. And we were the smart, feisty, take no prisoner types.

Ladies, especially young women, take heed. Do not ever stand for being abused verbally or physically by ANYONE. Just do not do it. Do not, do not, do not. Not even once.

When he says love you to the moon and back. Make sure you love yourself even more.


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    La Detra Joy

    I love being around people. I would rather live falling than break my spirit never trying anything hard. This blog is about trying and retrying life.

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