What I can do is empower myself and empower other women to show him that abuse is never okay. There is nothing I can do to protect him from that reality. I wrote it in one sitting, and I was crying the entire time, but after I finished it, I slept through the night for the first time in months. It turns out there was a hungry audience for this subject matter.
Can you talk a little bit about that decision-making process and about where you draw support for it and, perhaps, where you have encountered resistance to it? I wrote Demolition in the three years during my MFA. I felt unbound, as though I was no longer required to keep his secrets. These words were trapped inside of me, and they needed to be let out.
Still, the essays are dominated by latent themes of violence. I think they can complement each other and give a deeper, richer understanding of the experience of gender violence.
The title essay is an essay about a Demolition Derby that parallels the destruction going on in the arena to the destruction going on in the interpersonal relationships in the stands. I was empowered after years of powerlessness. I was existing in two very different realities, and I had convinced myself that only one of those realities was authentic.
I learned first-hand that, when it comes to domestic violence, the problems in our legal system are endemic because the people within the system are so disillusioned that they often stop trying to help the victims. The blog was a reaction to the failure of the legal system to protect me or get justice on my behalf. Many of these responses are from women sharing their own stories. Most of the stories I read were redemptive narratives, and they glossed over what happens when someone leaves an abuser.
I think they can complement each other and give a deeper, richer understanding of the experience of gender violence. He knows what happened.
Posted by: Kazshura | on October 2, 2012
He knows what happened. I asked a friend, a poet, if he thought I should wait to write about the abuse, and he pointed out to me that I might not want to revisit those feelings later.
It turns out there was a hungry audience for this subject matter. Once the lyrical components, which had been the connective tissue were gone, we actually had to cut and paste the crots in order to re-achieve that balance. Threads of violence, like those ones, extend throughout the entire manuscript.
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