1998 november 02

damaged

i have a black eye.

first, let me say that i am unreasonably proud of this black eye. i never had one as a child and always felt as though i had missed out on some important rite of passage; i never broke a bone either but i am not so anxious to make up for that one.

as a result of this inordinate pride, the resulting reactions from coworkers have been a bit of a letdown. more than a letdown, really, an out and out irritation. if a male were to walk into a room, sporting a brand spanking new shiner, the inevitable reaction would be, "how's the other guy look!" or "hope you got a good shot in before he knocked you out." if i were a single woman, the usual reaction would be, "ouch!! how'd you do that? walk into a door?" but, because i am a woman involved in a relationship, the first thing out of each and everyone's mouth when they saw my eye was some variation of, "wow, i didn't expect the relationship to become abusive so quickly." most of them weren't joking.

admittedly, these are coworkers i am writing about, and not close friends, but i have worked with these people for six months to three years and you'd think they might have some clue about me and the type of man i would let move into my house.

i know domestic abuse is rampant in our society and i know there are women all over the country getting the stuffing knocked out of them by the fists and feet of their significant others, but to assume that every woman is at the mercy of a pounding partner is going too far. what sort of expectations do we set for ourselves and society when we assume each relationship is abusive? when our reaction is potential abuse is, "oh well, it's everywhere" instead of anger and horror that it might have happened to someone we know and work with? when we assume it?

i know i am overreacting. but i also fear that the simpson trial, rather than waking the world up to true cases of domestic assault, instead inured us once again to an aspect of violence.

so, how did i get my beautiful black eye?

i was feeding a friend's cat this weekend and after filling said kitty's bowl, i plopped down on the couch to check out their satellite tv; i don't have a couch or satellite tv so i was luxuriating in the moment. channel after channel of nothing much had me sinking farther and farther into the cushions, and daisy the cat, always up for a nap, curled herself near my head. i'm not sure what startled her, a loud noise on the television, the remote falling off the couch or just a wild kitty dream, but startled she was and she jumped awake, shoving off with all claws extended. one of her paws and its outstretched claws shoved off my left eyelid.

in my half asleep panic, i thought she had punctured my eyeball, the stuff of childhood nightmares. i was always dreaming or nightmaring about my eyes falling out of their sockets and my teeth falling out of my mouth -- lord knows what that was all about, dream analysts please send diagnoses. however, i soon realized that the sticky stuff covering my eye and fingers was merely blood and after carefully washing the puncture, i was overcome with the aforementioned pride in my wound.

my badge of honor. i had been damaged but i was still alive. i had survived a vicious assault from a wild beast. i was claire, queen of the jungle.

blackeyed and beautiful, claire