Why violence against women? Why so many women? Why every corner of the world? Why, after all this time, is there barely an end in sight?
I have asked these questions for many years, toiled with many ‘answers’, assessed many ‘solutions’ yet there is still a gapping void where my hope for the end of violence against women should be. That void used to be a cosmic gravitational force that destroyed all optimism for progress in the fight against gendered violence.
Today, the pull is weakening. It is weakening because I have witnessed so many brave women venture into the depths of their own voids, those gapping wounds created by violence, and have come out the other side with a voice filled with truth and courage.
The truth being that violence is a mainstreamed tool of psychological control. Societal ‘acceptability’ prefers to establish violence as a randomly occurring phenomenon. The stats tell a different story. And the yearning of the wild soul of women the world over tells a different one still.
1 in 3 women experience violence but every single woman lives in fear of it. Violence against women is a force that attempts to separate us from our wild nature. It halts the dance of the wildish light in a woman’s eyes, smothers the lighting of her heart, and arrests all throwing of sparks from her soul place.
Violence against women is a war against the Wild Woman because the Wild Woman is more powerful, more resilient, more all knowing, all seeing, all being, than anything created or conceived by man. While her spirit may be diminished by systemic violence, she is never destroyed. To heal and enliven here we must only create a wild landscape in our psyches for her to gather her strength.
And she has. She does.
She has amassed her armies and her weapons of mass re-wilding. She gathers her guerrilla forces in the wildish countryside, making a home where the artists can make, the lovers can love, and the healers can heal.
Violence against women causes women to marry herself to an ordinary predator, she integrates him into her psyche and he digs a grave bellow her seat, which she has very little choice but to fall into. But she still has her blood scent. She still desires ceaselessly for a creatively free life.
She still has her hands, so she digs herself free. She still has her voice, so she call’s for aid when her bones need a rest. Because our abusers are so often those who are supposed to love and care for us, we struggle to separate ourselves.
In ancient Norse mythology there were mystical beings that consumed the souls sins, taking on the ‘psychic waste’ of a community and bringing them to Hel, a goddess of life and death. She shows the dead how to live, how to repair old wounds.
We can dismantle predatory violence by maintaining our intuitions, refusing to entertain its tirades. We show it our truths and show it a path with heart and compassion so that the violence within the predator can also be reborn into something good.