Written by: crabbypatter
So, the election is over. I have to admit that my mind has been cluttered and consumed by the endlessness of it, and today I’m thinking a bit more clearly.
My good friend, CDBitch, has been provoking some interesting internal dialogue, and I would like to ponder who an abusive man is, starting with the campaign.
There are two possible directions for this post. First, I could discuss how those who have been abused will never look at people in the same way. I look at McCain and Obama with different eyes than the average person. As the pundits bask in the adulation of their respective parties, I see them both with a critical eye. I wonder if the coolly confident Obama had ever poured that smug smile and arrogant tone over his lovely wife, Michelle, who stands behind him. I wonder if the legendary temper and impatience of McCain has rained down on the fragile-looking Cindy.
The abuse I’ve suffered and witnessed colors my perspective that way. But that post, I believe is for another time.
Rather, today, I’d like to look at who the abuser is. Some might find it shocking—unpatriotic, even—to look at presidential candidates and try to see the cracks in the façade that could reveal an abuser. Isn’t the abuser a big ape of a man, a shawl of black curly hair sprouting from beneath the straps of a wife-beater undershirt, the stench of three days of unwashed beer and humanity oozing from his greasy pores? Sometimes, he is.
But sometimes, the worst abuser is the charming neighbor who shoveled your driveway last winter while you were visiting your in-laws for Christmas. He is the doctor who delivered your firstborn. He’s your pastor. He’s your brother-in-law. He could be your husband.
The statistic that one in four women will be physically abused by a domestic partner is an interesting tidbit. One in four, according to some sources; others place the number higher. When one does the math, it is a figure that has sobering implications.
Women’s advocate and groundbreaking author Lundy Bancroft has built his career on working with abusive men. From paradigm-shattering book, Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men, Bancroft writes:
One of the obstacles to recognizing chronic mistreatment in relationships is that most abusive men simply don’t seem like abusers. They have many good qualities, including times of kindness, warmth, and humor, especially in the early period of the relationship. An abuser’s friends may think the world of him. He may have a successful work life and no problems with drugs or alcohol. He may simply not fit anyone’s image of a cruel or intimidating person. So when a woman feels her relationship spinning out of control, it is unlikely to occur to her that her partner is an abuser.
It is unlikely to occur to her that her partner is an abuser. If that is true, then it would stand to reason that it would be unapparent to others that this outwardly kind, charming, and funny man could ever intentionally harm someone, much less his wife or domestic partner.
Yet, it happens. Frequently. Over the course of my extraction from my own abuser’s vile hold—some call it healing, but I find it more akin to a painful immersion to an awkward adolescence of discovering who I am and what I’ll be when I grow up all while avoiding the mean girls who have it all—I was dumbfounded to think of him as an abuser.
He, after all, is the person who helped me understand feminism. A professor who won awards for his quality and standard of teaching, this bright and engaging man was beloved by his students. If his colleagues didn’t adore him (and some did not), they at least respected his work ethic and dedication to his students. Yet his dominance and cruelty was in complete opposition to his public face. And he outwardly praised me to his friends and colleagues; the pedestal he set me upon in public belied the psychological and emotional torment at home.
As I’ve “healed,” I’ve met some lovely, strong, intelligent and determined women who walked the same path as I. To my surprise, not one of these fine people has been with a stereotypical abuser. One was married to an artist. One was married to a musician. One was married to a lawyer. Two were married to successful business owners. One was married to someone with top government security clearance. Several were married to respected military officers and soldiers and law enforcement members. Teachers, professors, doctors: all of these fields were represented.
The first book that introduced me to the concept of upscale abuse—indeed, the very piece that opened my eyes to the fact that I might be in an abusive relationship—is Susan Weitzman’s book “Not to People Like Us:” Hidden Abuse in Upscale Marriages. The fact that a wife-beater stereotype exists provides a safety net for the “atypical,” professional abuser—and a huge question mark for women living The American Dream. “How can this man in khakis with a $75 haircut be threatening me?” she asks. “It must be my imagination.” And, since the masses don’t want to hear about the abusive professor—or doctor or business owner or teacher—their denial reinforces her doubt.
No, I’m not saying that Barak Obama or John McCain is abusive to his wife. I’m saying that they—or anybody we know and admire—could be. And it presents a troubling possibility about what we, as a society, once thought was solid and hallowed ground: that our most revered might be the most despicable.
