Manifesta! To Rant on Violence

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I am tired of tearing up because I hear another statistic about a woman who has suffered violence, at the hands of a man, because she is a woman.
When Ms. Steinem informed of the fact: more women, in the United States have been killed by their boyfriends or husbands since 9/11 than the number of people killed in 9/11, Iraq and Afghanistan, my heart broke.
More tears.
Then she informs me of the fact: for the first time in history, women are no longer half of the human race. Violence against women has reached such highs, men now outnumber women. Is this the beginning of the end of the human race, I ask.
What causes this fear of the feminine? Do we all have a target on our backs?
I cry because women live in fear, live in fear of men.
When I learned of Cuidad Juarez, learned of the 3,000 missing women, learned of the 600 murdered women, I cried. Gone but not forgotten, Ni Una Mas on a pink cross, not forgotten. I hear the tortured screams of their fear as the monsters rob them of their lives. They toil in the maquiladores in twelve hour shifts and for a pauper’s wage: making millions on the backs of the murdered and missing women, Sanyo, Panasonic, General Electric and Nike sell their blood stained products the world over.
But when I tell people there is blood on their Nikes, on their T.V.’s, they don’t listen, they don’t want to hear, they want to be absolved of their guilt because no one wants to know the dark side of the truth.
I, too, have suffered at the hands of an abuser, shared that bed for ten long years. The first five were spent trying to rationalize the behavior the second five were spent trying to figure a way out. I can relate to a burning bed, or a severed penis. One woman’s reality is another woman’s fantasy.
But I walked, no, I ran away, as fast I could.
I didn’t cut the brake lines, or swing down the frying pan while he slept, I can tell you of a hundred different ways to end the abuse, but leaving was the only one legal.
I took a stand, I fought back. I speak on behalf of those cannot, will not due to fear.
Violence against women has taken a worldwide toll, feminicide as it has been coined, violence against women because they are women.
Violence, rape, feminicide, abuse, sexual terrorism, violence.
I feel so powerless against these ills, the world I cannot stop. I feel such pain when I think of a body lying in the desert, half buried by sand, her last moments of terror, as she was tossed like garbage, her disposable body deemed unimportant in her Cuidad Juarez.
Please hear my plea, please listen to my words, my sisters are dying at the hands of your brothers. Lower your hands, walk off your anger, put an end to your violent behavior.
I, too, feel guilty, I should not complain, my first world troubles are very mundane.
I hope,
I pray,
I wish for the violence against women to end.