The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

Sit Down

I don't often write about pop culture in my journal. For one thing, it is largely stupid, mostly because there are very few personalities worth following or revering. So many of these so-called 'icons' or 'role models' are people who've been re-formatted and readjusted to appeal to the public. They are image, they are ideas that breathe. Most of them are not talented or spectacular in any particular way, and somehow we find ourselves applauding them, giving them titles like 'artist' or 'genius' when they are barely able to carry a coherent conversation. The more arrogant some of them get, the more so many love them, which makes those who love them look kind of stupid, mostly because it's all a joke, and the punchline is that they make millions off a collective gullability. They call us idiots, and some of us find that oh so hilarious, they tell us they're more talented than we are and some of us nod in catatonic agreement. Sit down plastic idols. Take a seat, corporate sell-outs. Giant fail to all of you who can't spell properly but who dare to tell us that you are the true artists and prophets. Just, shut up.

So, because I'm delirious with flu, I feel slightly less rational than I normally do, which is actually a little frightening. I am raging about this whole Rihanna/boyfriend thing. If I'm understanding things correctly, her boyfriend lost his temper, for any number of possible reasons, and beat her up. In a rented Lambourghini, no less. How gross is that? Not just the beating but the fact that someone felt the need, in this cruel and damaging economy, to drive around in a car that was always too much man for him? I digress. The fact is that I tend to keep up with the gossip out there, mostly because it's a sickness I have, and I saw the photos of her face after the beating. Now, there are those who might want to defend him by saying that she might have provoked the attack, and there are more even still who say that we don't know all the facts and should not be so quick to judge. To this I say sit down! Said boyfriend has not issued a denial of the abuse, nor has the girlfriend approached the media to defend him. He is enrolled in anger management classes, has lost all of his endorsements, fled the scene of the car and I'm sorry, but if you think any of these things are pointing toward his innocence than maybe you too are delirious. Buddy lost his nut, plain and simple, and you don't have to be that intelligent to connect all the clues.

Apparently, she's back with him. I don't know if I can believe that, though, I mean, how does that seem remotely wise? How can you take a beating to your face, which is essentially your meal ticket, lose out on one of the biggest nights of your career, be humiliated in the press as a result, and still go back to the person responsible for undoing all of it? Is it true? Is she really that stupid? No, I don't think she is, but the mind reels that she could be that far gone, that sucked into the role of victim that she can't liberate herself from it. She has more resources than most, she's got the backing. I don't get it, and trying to defend her by saying that I don't know how she feels, that I am not a victim like she is will not cut it. We've all been a victim at some point.

I don't know these people. I barely even know who they are, although that 'Umbrella' song got stuck in my head for a couple days last year. What upsets me is that I've been seeing people in the mainstream media attempting to justify his behaviour, trying to find logic in her going back to him (we don't know the circumstances of what happened, we don't know what transpired between them to provoke him if he did do it ). It makes me sick, seeing someone so young, so on top of the world limiting herself to someone who will never be good enough ever again. He's done it before, mark my words. Of course, he's done it before.

I'm trying to figure out why it offends me so much. Maybe it's because it seems to be mostly men who are defending him, and from what I'm told, this could also be a culture thing, a 'we demand respect from our woman' kind of philosophy from the younger, gangster-philosophizers (I might have made that term up). Sit down you mouthbreathing neanderthals. Don't try to be pretty for the cameras by using big words you don't understand: respect, provocation, condone. Shut up until you are able to understand the following and can produce a written explanation or a descriptive diagram which best illustrate the following: maturity, tolerate and respect. What a nice word that last one is. It's a shame so many of you young stallions talk about it with such passion but clearly have no idea what it is or that you have to earn it, not just receive it. I do not owe anyone my respect unless they are willing to give it back to me.

I'm mostly enraged because I've seen it. I have seen this kind of abuse and I have seen the ones abused try to hide it. This is not a culture specific issue, let me assure you. I have listened to one of my best friend's explanations as to the bruises on her face and arms and known that they were not the result of a fall or her general clumsiness. I should say I suspected that I knew what really caused it, but she was not very helpful with the details. The final straw came when they broke up and he came to her house in the middle of the night and saw a very drunk male friend of hers asleep on her sofa. He balled up his fist and punched her in the face when he saw this, and the fellow on the couch was too out of it to know what happened. When she told me, I reacted accordingly. I went on the hunt, and I vowed that if I saw him, I would return the favour. What do you mean? she asked, her eyes filling with tears. I mean, I calmly said, that I will punch the living daylights out of him. I did not know fear. I only knew rage. I was not afraid of this man, this scrawny, cognac drinking, brie-loving dork with a bad haircut. I intended to hurt him, and even after fifteen years, I wish I'd run across him that day. She never admitted to the extent of it, and she's married to someone else now, has a family, but, she has this loser as a Facebook friend. I am simply amazed by that. The woman still has love for him, and she sometimes admits it, even though I shake my head in disbelief. You didn't know him like I did, she sometimes says wistfully. Lucky for him,I always respond. If I had, he'd be walking strange for the rest of his life. At least she had the good sense to leave him, that's more than a lot of women do. She didn't live with him, didn't have any of his children and was only engaged to him for a short time, so there's that, but more than that, she knew enough to be ashamed of staying. You see, you should never be ashamed of being hit, but you should always feel ashamed of choosing to stay when you have the ability to leave.

You can't love them out of it. You can't make them what you want them to be. Anyone with an ounce of sense knows that you can't change a man any more than you can change a woman. We are who we are, and there are few exceptions to the general rule that you can't shape a person into the perfect mate. If the man you are involved with is falling short in your expectations early on in the relationship, nevermind beating you senseless, then it's time to move on. There's no shame in not being a perfect fit. There is only shame in refusing to accept it.

I hate the weak and sloppy rationalization of 'but I love him!'. I'm sorry, but you don't. What you're loving is the idea of fixing him, of making him love you. You love the apologies and the drama, but you don't love him. He's damaged. He's feral. He's a rabid dog. One day you will wake up and wonder how you got to where you are, and the door to leave is going to be further down the hallway than it ever was before.

I've never been hit by a man. R. threatened to, once, but I made it very clear that it would end with one of us dead because I would hit him back as long as I was physically able to do so. I was not raised by passive people, I suppose I'm damaged in my own way. While I would never want to hurt someone intentionally, I would certainly defend myself, that's plain. A man is simply physically superior to a woman. Unless she's pulling a knife on him, or waving a gun, he should always just back away and leave his hands by his sides. While I've never been hit by a man, I have been thrown up against a wall by one, and it was extremely eye-opening in terms of recognizing his strength. Again, it was R., toward the end of the relationship when his common sense had taken leave, and I knew he was that close to crossing the line. I wouldn't say I was frightened, I was basically just ready for it, and I knew there was a very real possibility of my getting seriously hurt. For some reason, call it warrior spirit or complete stupidity, I looked him straight in the eye and told him that I would not back down from him. I suppose he knew I meant it, and he let me slide down the wall and walked away. In retrospect, I suppose I was lucky. I suppose he was, too.

My mother was the one who used to physically lash out at my father, drawing blood more than once. I still think he should have left her, but in an odd case of role-reversal, he opted to stay because of us. I guess, given that the courts tend to side with the mothers in terms of custodial rights, I am grateful that he elected to stay after all. I took my share of punches from her too, and I never hit her back. One day, I'll figure out why I didn't. I never saw my dad hit my mother though. I saw him restrain her, I heard him yell at her, but he never hit her. If he had, she would have felt it, but even though he was often assaulted by this insane banshee of a woman, he never lost his cool and kept his hands to himself. This is the mark of a real man.

I was raised in a house where being hit was how you got your point across, but I don't allow it in my own home. I have never hit my child, have never hit M., and I never intend to. I understand that it is never acceptable to hurt the ones you claim to love, and I don't feel this makes me exceptional. This, my dears, is common sense. Either you have it or you don't, but if you don't, then I won't respect you. Just like that.

So, no, a woman should not return to the man who gives her love with clenched fists. A woman should never hold hands with the man who uses them to illustrate a point. A woman should never stroke the face of a man who forgets that he's the one who should be protecting her. No kisses from the lips that deliver the lies and the justifications. No tears of remorse to wet bandages that are wrapped around the wounds.

Sit down, big man with the anger problem. I don't want to know about you anymore. If she has any sense, she will start thinking like me.