And Still I Rise

Growing up I was exposed to violence. My grandfather hit my grandmother, my mother's husband hit her as did my aunt's husband. Each event angered, annoyed, terrified and confused me but I always escaped to the comfort of a book or the skirts/arms of some rescuer.

All of the above females I consider some of the strongest people I have ever met. My grandmother raised generations of children on very little but the bigness of her heart and the belief in casting your bread on the water. As the wife of an oft transferred headteacher her life was nomadic but she survived his alcoholism and brutality to nurture her children to becom e upstanding ciitizens.

My mother and aunt blazed trails of excellence, strong beyond belief beautiful women but incapable of preventing abuse at the hands and lips of the men they chose. I say all this to say that sometimes it is difficult being a woman. Too often we fall victims to those we thought would be our protectors. Too often we walk around with heads bowed-beaten down by the weight of words and fists instead of glorying in our womanhood.

That Rihanna is now the face of domestic abuse should drive home the point that abuse knows no boundaries. It is not confined to the poor, the uneducated, or God forbid those who society says deserves it. The face of domestic abuse is the woman sitting next to you in church, the bank teller who deals with your transactions, the beauty queen strutting her stuff , the little child with the haunted eyes and you. Sadly, it is often kept as a dirty dark secret. If this Rihanna incident could be a catalyst for attention to the nameless, faceless women who suffer silently then I'd be happy.