In my formative years, our family was subject to recurring abuse at the hands of a very angry, very violent man. I say hands, even though at times there was also gunshot in our home, though never at one of us... always used as a form of intimidation. My stepfather was, and probably still is, a very violent, dangerous man.
I lived under the same roof with him until leaving for college... and for a small amount of time when I returned, before finding a place of my own.
The abuse was chronic.
It was violent.
Destructive.
Painful.
Emotionally scarring.
Non-discriminatory.
And it was cyclical... woven tightly with times of counterfeit joy and meaningless "love." One day we were a happy, midwestern, small town family. And the next, we were screaming out in pain or frantically calling the cops.
And the cycle continued over the years because my mother felt either trapped by her abuser (and is still with him today), or she believed him when he said he was "sorry," and that it would never happen again. She believed that he had changed.
Nothing changed.
His claiming remorse for the abuse was an employment of the power he held over us. You see, for an abuser, there's great pride in being able to maintain an environment where they are able to abuse the same person (or persons) over and over again. Because to have to seek out a new target for their violent rage would be too costly for them... better to stay focused on the victim (or victims) they have. And if it means appeasing the victims from time to time, throwing them a bone of false love and false hope in order to get them to stay in the abusive environment, then that's what happens.
He apologized.
She forgave him.
And we just waited until the next time fists flew before doing it all over again.
I've not been overly public with the details of this abuse-ridden chapter of my life. I've shared details with some... not many.
And I do not share them with you today so that you may coddle me or feel sorry for me. I love you all and I appreciate it if that is your first inclination. However, what I am saying today is not about me. It is about something much larger.
I share my story in an effort to shine light on a pattern of abuse that I feel parallels in some ways the experiences we are witnessing in the lives of countless numbers of our black neighbors across the nation. I share my story as an illustration in discussing the systemic abuse endured by those in the black community and the at-times inauthentic response they receive from those saying they "have changed."
I was abused by an individual.
They have an entire system weaponized against them.
I share my story with you in response to what I am seeing play out in our nation over the past few days. And what I know has been playing out across this land for hundreds of years.
Using my own story as a metaphor... replace my mother and I with members of the black communities across our nation and insert for my step-father, the systems of white supremacy that were set into motion the moment non-native feet stepped foot on this land.
The abuse in both stories sadly include fists and guns. However, for the narrative of abuse enacted on our black siblings, the list of weapons is much longer, not to mention quite often less visible. As I mentioned... they have an entire system weaponized against them.
And just as my abuser would occasionally transition from Hyde to Jeckyll, we are seeing modern-day examples coming from systems of abuser in our communities.
And their actions are met largely with applause.
Because they're sorry.
Because they are showing remorse.
Because they are making promises that things are going to change.
And... these actions may very well be sincere. God knows I pray they are.
And I've also seen how this has played out in the past.
So what do we do? How do we navigate this thin space between abuse and reconciliation?
We watch.
We wait.
We hold accountable those who proclaim a changed heart.
We may forgive... though that very well could be the work for another day.
We remind those who have suffered abuse that it is not their fault.
We continue to show them... truly SHOW them that they are loved.
We listen to their stories and we show up to stand by their side.
And we stay committed... because the type of systemic change that we seek is not going to happen overnight.
And those who have enacted the abuse? Well...
They are going to have to work damn hard to gain anyone's trust.
Because the cycle itself is abusive and we have all seen it spin round before.
We will let them know that the cycle must stop... that we will no longer tolerate violence enacted upon black bodies. Period!
It is beyond time to break the cycle and work alongside those who seek to break free from its abuse.
So let's get to work! Let's bring some accountability to the experience.
Because the cycle itself is abusive. And it must be stopped!
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