Every Person in the United States is Now a Battered Woman

This isn’t about gender. This is about power. If you have ever found yourself in a situation where you had no choice but to submit to the cruel or abusive actions of another person, then this dread washing over us right now isn’t new. Futility is depressing, and so we tell ourselves whatever we need to in order to keep going.

The ways people are reacting to our new administration mirrors many stereotypes of women who have found themselves in circumstances of abuse; For some, it is a new experience, for others, the dull drone of a way of life you thought you had escaped.

Much of the shock and vocalization at our current state tracks with those who maybe have never felt completely overpowered by someone before in a way that made their bodies freeze and their eyes seem to jump out of their skulls, watching themselves like in a movie from somewhere else. “Any man would know better than to mess with a woman like me.” Sure, Jan. Because we know only weak women end up being assaulted, or beaten, or raped, or murdered, right? In this case, the “man” is the collective power of our federal government, and unfortunately, we really are all in this together.

Or maybe the shock comes from those who honestly thought they were getting involved with a “nice guy.” You know, the type that volunteers in the community and then comes home and beats his wife but is careful to only leave bruises where her clothes will cover.

“He didn’t mean it.”

“I never thought he would do that.”

“It’s going to get better. He promised.”

I know this: Whether a woman is attacked by a mysterious stranger or abused by someone she willingly got involved with, she didn’t deserve what he did to her.

Rights are being stripped away. Jobs are being lost. Funding and services are being cut. And it doesn’t matter who you voted for; these orders will cause equal-opportunity suffering. Different branches of Christianity are tearing each other apart, as though the tainted hands of humans who formed these branches did anything to make it better than God’s will. So many are mocking prayer; and yet I find myself clinging to it, speaking openly out to God as I go throughout my daily life, as though He is standing in my kitchen with me or seated in the passenger seat of my 2009 Ford Escape.

But if you’ve been here before, maybe for one life-altering night, or in the heavy waves of lost years, maybe you’re not vocal right now. Maybe you’re just laying low. Your silence isn’t approval of what’s going on; It’s that sinking hook latched into the lining of your stomach. You gulp down and try to digest the realization that, in this moment, nothing you can do as an individual is going to stop them from doing exactly what they want. You find yourself in this situation again after working so hard to never feel that way again. How can you make it hurt less?

Shut off the panic faucet. Figure out what you can and can’t control. Preserve. Look ahead. Carefully move through so you sustain as little damage as possible. Don’t stiffen your body. Let the waves crash against your soft flesh. Don’t lose your self-worth. It is always worth fighting against losing self-worth and holding on to the ability to care and feel. Those battles are done within, and it is important to remember that you are not your own enemy.

Recognize who has it worse. Protect them. Assume that everyone is dealing with suffering you don’t know about or cannot obviously see. If you have privilege, use it for good but not loudly. Reach out to people. Hold space. Hold each other.