As a woman who took a lot of blows from men when I was younger, I feel I should add my two cents’ worth on men beating women.
I am heartened that more educated women are speaking out against this because with their support it may help more people realise how serious this problem really is in this country, and maybe then more would be done to help women who are beaten up by their men.
When I was a girl, women used to be beaten up all the time. It was almost an everyday thing and nobody used to see it as a big problem.
I saw my mother and sister take their fair share of licks. My mother got out of that situation after a while. That is why we grew up without a man around because mummy was not prepared for anybody to beat her or treat her two girls unfairly.
In my case, I had two men who used to hit me, and I eventually left both of them.
The first one was my first serious fellow and was a real good-looking man. He used to dress sharp and loved dancing – in fact, that was how we met, at a dance. But he, like so many men today, expected to have a woman here, there and everywhere, and if I as his woman said anything about it, he would slap me in my face.
And when I talked back to him, oh loss, he used to beat me like he was fighting a man – he would cuff me in my chest or belly; a few times he kicked me too; then he would leave me on the floor or in the bed crying, put on his clothes and go out.
When he beat me he used to leave the house and sometimes I would not see him until the next morning; and when he came home the first thing that he would do – though he would be sweaty and smelling stink of cigarettes and rum – was to pull me in the bed and have sex.
I tolerated that for nearly eight years before I left him, and I said after the last beating he gave me that I would never go out with another man who smoked, drank and was a “pretty boy”.
I kept my word for a couple of years. No matter how I was tempted to talk to fellows I met at dances after that, I never did, because I figured all men who liked that sort of thing were the same.
I eventually left that life and started going church; I wasn’t 30 yet and still looked good. I figured I would meet a good man there who would want a decent, hard-working woman in his life. But I butt up on the same foolishness. This time the man was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
At first he didn’t treat me badly. In fact, he was so nice that I thanked the Lord for answering my prayers in sending him for me. He was much older than I was and had no children, so when we started talking I let him know if he married me I would give him a child and treat him really well.
Yes, I was that forward with him because I really liked him. There was just something about him that was right for me. He was always neat and clean.
He didn’t curse or go dancing; and he didn’t drink or smoke. He was a genuinely kind man who was friendly with everyone and loved children, especially boys; and he used to organise games and outings for them, and gave them lessons as he was a teacher.
Anyway, after we were married five years I noticed that though he was still really nice to me, we never used to have sex too regularly, and he was still very much caught up with his boys’ group.
I figured that as he was nearly 50 years old and now had his own child, that he would ease off his activities and spend more time at home.
I told him as much, but he ignored me. So I kept talking about it whenever I got upset with him going out to do something with that group. As usual, he would say nothing but just leave.
That same long school vacation, I got vex when he made plans to supervise a number of activities and didn’t say a word about it to me; I only heard about it when the church notices were read.
So after we got home, and while we were sitting at the table after eating lunch, I let him know just how I felt about all the things he was doing and the neglect I felt. I had it bottled up in my chest so I just let go. As usual, when I started up he tried to get up and leave, but this time as soon as he got up, I moved fast and pushed him back into the chair.
I would never forget that; I pushed him back into the chair and was telling him that I didn’t want him to run away when I was talking with him, but before I could finish saying that, he cuffed me hard in my face. I got an instant headache and fell down.
Though I was there on the ground holding my jaw and crying, all he did was to try to sidestep me to leave. So when I grabbed at his foot, he pulled away, and then kicked me in my stomach.
Those blows ended our marriage. After that he and I lived in that house for a few more years but had no contact. There was nothing between us.
The point of my confession is that all types of men beat women. They do it because they can’t take a woman standing up to them and telling them like it is.
Bajan men like to have the first and last word, and anytime a woman dares say something different, they want to knock off her head. Those things just aren’t right. From my experience, I would advise other women not to tolerate any man laying a finger on them. They don’t own you!
