Just a Domestic
Just a Domestic
This oft repeated phrase from police officers sends chills down the spine of anyone who has ever tried to get help only to be met with this brick wall. I am only one of billions who has heard this phrase and had to go back to horrific abuse, repeatedly throughout my lifetime.
Women have gathered together since the beginning of time to gossip. Men listen to the nonsense about domestic life. They tease about the frivolous nature of women. They aren’t around for the far less frivolous topics.
We speak of rape, incest, assault, domestic violence, abuse, enslavement and exploitation. We don’t always have the right words for what happens to us but we understand each other perfectly. It is just our lot in life for being born female.
I have heard women tell each other to suck it up. Everyone gets hit. Everyone is raped. You’re going to have to have sex so it doesn’t matter how, who, when, why or even if it’s your own father who rapes you. He provides for you so why are you complaining. Be grateful that it isn’t worse.
If we are lucky, we are surrounded by a community who stands up for us. I was fortunate to be surrounded by strong women who said, “No more!” They shared their own stories of abuse. They taught me how to defend myself and others. They gave me the confidence to stand up to those who were stronger or more powerful than me and demand respect.
That is unfortunately a lesson we must continue to learn, teach and practice. We must demand that law enforcement and our government stand up for us. It can never be just women protecting and defending each other. The cycle of abuse must be broken. If it isn’t, the abuse worsens as the abuser becomes more emboldened. It rarely ends well when none intervene.
We must never hear the words, “Just a domestic” again. We must be given help, safety and hope. If not, law enforcement might just have to say, “DOA” instead of “Just a domestic.”
I have spoken about some of my experiences with abuse and my recent human trafficking. I don’t keep these things secret. When I saw that nobody was coming to the rescue of the children, myself and others, I kept showing others the way to freedom or else getting closer to it. I wanted everyone to know, be aware and stay safe. I didn’t want survivors to feel shame or guilt for what they endured. I wanted the justice system to do its job in protecting and serving our community, all of our community.
I feel as if I have failed. Every single defeat is gut wrenching. It sometimes seems as if nobody is listening or hearing our screams. I then remember that these things take time. I have told so many people that my words now flow freely and clearly. I can discuss it without so many tears or raw emotions getting in the way. It’s getting easier to advocate for myself and others. It’s getting easier to share my stories so that other victims know that they aren’t alone. So that the world knows, hears and understands our screams. It is a never ending struggle.
I have been asked about my future so much but my responses have only been abstract dreams. I have been so focused on getting justice and freedom that I have yet to truly see a future for myself. I keep moving forward into the unknown, regardless, hoping that the answer comes to me.
I have pinned my hopes and dreams on others to help me. They have failed me every time. I was then reminded about the prayers of the religious by a female chaplain who I told my story to. As we agreed about God and prayer through our different faiths, I was shown my path. She asked me what I was going to do. I excitedly leapt up and dug into my purse. I sheepishly handed her a pamphlet and business card. I told her that I don’t know where this will lead me and I haven’t done much but I don’t want to stop. I can’t stop.
I must continue screaming until nobody knows the shackles of exploitation, the chains of enslavement, the whip of abuse or the straight jacket of psychological torture.
I will be looking to start a nonprofit organization that speaks to the need to end the cycle of abuse. It will be a continuation of jihadi al-kalimat, my war of words. I hope to sell the foods that I have been sharing with others while spreading awareness. I hope to change the hearts and minds of those in positions of power so that we no longer hear, “Just a domestic,” when fighting for our very lives. We will be rescued. We will be free because
Every life matters, especially yours.
God bless Nebraska and especially Her people.
