Palm-heel strike. Knee straight to the balls. Do you have keys for emergency eyeball-gouging? Hammer-fist strike. Aim for the Adam’s apple. Did you know you can use your purse strap or a scarf to strangle your Uber driver from behind?
In many communities, these lessons, though seemingly more akin to some sort of scared-straight bootcamp curriculum, are a rite of passage for young girls of a certain age.
As soon as I hit the certain age of 11, I became one of those girls. Discussions around that time amongst the women and girls in my life seemed to center around two things: Puberty and violence. Blood and guts.
The way the adults around me talked when I was in my tween years, it was like I couldn’t be a real woman unless I knew how to both handle unexpected bleeding and how to do an elbow strike. I couldn’t be a real woman until I learned how to use everyday household items as weapons to throw off my attacker— because rest assured, in womanhood, there will be one. These lessons all had an underlying implication: that participating in and perpetuating cycles of violence was required in order to be a woman.
I rejected that notion whole-heartedly the moment I recognized it. Growing up in my childhood home meant I was exposed to cycles of violence in a couple different forms. By 11 years old I had already learned using violence— even in the context of self-defense— was an ineffective method of preventing and combating violence.
I also already knew of the dangers of violence— I lived it, and as a girl who would turn into a woman, it appeared I had more violence coming my way in the future. And I did— and those acts further confirmed my beliefs that violence is a wholly pathetic and inadequate response to violence. If violence could combat and prevent violence, it would have already.
I have survived literally countless acts of violence— you would think that would give me some credibility when it comes to violence and how to best survive and combat it. You would think. But my lived experience— all 26 years of it— matters none. I am still faced with frequent pressures to participate in cycles of violence.
When I survived gun violence, far too many well-intentioned people advised me, “you should get a gun now, to keep yourself safe”— words no gun violence survivor ever wants to hear. But seriously. I can’t imagine any world in which the violence I faced would have de-escalated if I was also armed with a gun, though I can easily imagine the opposite.
Not everything needs to be dealt with through violence, despite what male world leaders traditionally believe. I would go as far as to argue there is absolutely nothing that needs to be dealt with through violence, and using violence is a poor excuse for avoiding the challenges that come with learning nonviolent communication and conflict resolution skills. If you cannot talk things out but you are able and willing to use violence as an alternative, you have too much power and not nearly enough intelligence.
Of course, I understand not many people want to hear a white woman preaching about nonviolence. I know physical self-defense skills and weapons have often been withheld from the groups most at-risk for violence. I also know that in countless instances, physical self-defense skills have saved countless lives and are often truly the last resort. What I am interested in is how we can prevent and combat violence before those acts of violence are committed or attempted, not during. Offering life-saving self-defense techniques to combat violence is great, but not if that is the only thing you’re offering to combat violence.
And that was my problem with self-defense classes and the pressure to take them. I was not comfortable using my body as a weapon, and I was let down that the only options for self-defense and violence prevention education in my community revolved around self-defense classes largely marketed toward young women and girls. Why didn’t these facilities and organizations offer violence prevention classes for the young men and boys in my community, especially those whose missions were to prevent violence through education?
Because the thing is, when a woman or girl is in a position where she needs to use violence to defend herself, then there are some much larger issues at hand than just that one interaction. First, why is she in a position where she needs to use self-defense? Who is causing her to use violence to defend herself, and why? And most importantly, what can be done to lessen the threats to a woman’s life? What can be done to lessen the need for women to learn self-defense and carry around items such as pepper spray or rape alarms?
But on the other hand, people who fear men make up an enormous market with huge spending power. By avoiding and, thus, enabling the root cause of violence, the market that sells the illusion of “safety” can continue to thrive.
But remember: illusion is all it is, and it is not your job to protect yourself from men. It is the job of men to ensure they are and remain safe enough for others to exist in the world alongside them. And when we start classifying forms of violence as “good” or “acceptable” and “bad” or “unacceptable,” we are detracting from the most basic truth: that it’s all still violence.
heard+felt is a 100% reader-supported publication. to fuel my continued work, consider leaving me a tip on “buy me a coffee”
Follow me on Substack @annaekeenan!
You may also like…
- Dear Readers…
- Playlist to Build Confidence and Love Yourself
- Trauma Recovery Journals: August 12th, 2022
- The Problem with Idolizing Robert Irwin
- Top 5 Things on My Gratitude List Lately
Leave a Reply