adjective: characterized by or exhibiting excessive vanity; boastful; thinking too highly of oneself. oh and if you disagree and don't think I'm better than you in every way, please by all means, let me know: vainglorious.sarah at gmail
Smith’s bullshit was galling on so many levels but for women, this is not a new message. Our job, throughout our lives is to not provoke men into beating us, raping us, cat calling us, whatever. Men, so many people would have us believe, simply cannot control themselves so it is our job, as women, to not only live our own lives but make sure men don’t hurt us.
What I know about relationships is that they are hard. I know that when we are arguing with our significant others, we can do terrible things. We can say terrible things. We hurt each other and hope that there’s a way back from that hurt.
When physical violence enters a disagreement, though, something changes. I don’t think it’s ever right for one person of any gender to nonconsensually strike another person of any gender. Violence is not a reasonable option.
Some pundits have said that Rice’s wife, then fiancée, struck him and he was simply defending himself. He has the right to defend himself but I am unclear as to when self-defense becomes knocking a woman unconscious. I am particularly unclear about how a professionally trained NFL football player who outsizes his partner significantly, cannot make a different choice.
I remember obsessing about how I caused my own beating(s).
It was my fault. I started it.
When we started fighting as we did, I struck first. I slapped and cried and fell down and screamed and once I took a bowl and I smashed it.
I was standing at the sink. He had been doing … something. I don’t remember. It didn’t / doesn’t matter. And I called him while he was at work. I was home that morning. I was a hostess at a very nice restaurant and worked about 4 days a week. I was still getting ready for my day. I learned something and called him to accuse him and get upset. I didn’t expect him to leave his office (5mins away) and come home to confront me.
I stood at the sink in our kitchen washing a bowl. His bowl. He had bought it, a part of a set. I had moved into his apartment a couple months before. It was small. I wasn’t happy. I was trying to make it work.
He stormed in and told me I was crazy and why was I snooping on him. What the fuck was I doing. I’m doing nothing I said calmly. I remember feeling eerily calm. He called me a liar and moved towards me. He had hit me before. Before I had even moved in, we had had physical altercations. He had thrown me against a wall. Slapped me across the face. Among other things.
As he moved closer, I took the bowl I was handwashing and raised it and SLAMMED it into the sink. Shattering it into many many pieces. Startling him and myself. The violence was provocative. I wanted to smash his face. I didn’t know how though. And I knew that would only be inviting my own downfall / beating. Again. And I distinctly remember shaking … vibrating with anger immediately after.
So the glass splitting and flying was satisfying. To me. He may not have agreed. But it was control on my part. I was already upset about so many things. I was losing it. It helped me gain minor control.
I stayed with him for another year before leaving. This was not the last time I broke glass.
I was listening to The Read and a listener asked them what their dream come true for their life would be. Like what would make them feel accomplished on this earth. What personal achievement is their primary?
So duh. I thought: what about me?
My first thought: I wanna be a VP … OR A P. An Executive. Very telling. I want to be well paid. And deserve it. I wanna be financially stable. And maybe have a good, chill place of my own. I wanna have enough money and flexibility to travel so much.
No tentacles of my brain thought “WIFE. MOTHER.” Which is surprising. I sometimes think I lie to myself with how comfortable I am about being single. I fear deep down it’s not okay with me. And being lonely is not okay. Not having regular sex is not okay. But I think I may be fine with my fate of singlehood forever.
(original image via)