Violence

We went to the show today and saw a fight movie. During the fight scenes I closed my eyes...I felt sick to my stomach...I felt like I was going to vomit. I knew it was a movie, but the scenes seemed so real. When I was a girl my dad used to take me to the fights every Wednesday night. I saw Joe Louis and Sugar Ray Robinson fight...to name a few. The crowd cheered when someone bled...the onlookers moved in their seats like they were boxing. The fights never bothered me then...but today a fight movie made me sick to my stomach. It started me thinking about my life and how violence has affected me and others around me.

I can remember, while eating dinner, my dad telling me if I didn't shut-up he would bash my head into the wall. It was a usual occurrence for him to tell me that. He never touched me in violence, but the threat was always there...also the fear.

My sister was 5 years older than me. She married at the age of 18. Her marriage was a disaster from the start. Before I get into her marriage let me tell you about my childhood years. My sister was a rebellious girl. She always fought my folks. She would become angry and curse my mother or fight with my dad. I don't mean just hollering...I mean physically fight with my dad. I remember one time my dad kicked her in the eye...blackening it. I also remember another time she threw a chair at my dad.

I always ran into my room and cowered in the corner when the violence started. I cut holes in her underwear...tore the heads off her paper dolls. I couldn't face my rage outward...I hid it and did sneaky underhanded things.

My sister ran away and married...something my folks never forgave her for. As I said...her marriage was a disaster. Her husband used to beat her up...he was an alcoholic. She would come home to my folks and they would call the police and he would be arrested. My sister would always bail him out and the circle would go round and round again.

She had two children...a girl and a boy. I remember going to her house to babysit after school. I had been there about an hour when I changed her son's diaper. His little bottom was red from being beaten with a hair brush. His dad had beaten him before going to work.

My sister divorced her husband eventually. She started to drink and chippy around. Her children went to live with a couple who lived in the country. The kids got crabs when living there. My folks decided to have the kids come and live with us.

My mom didn't like men. She especially didn't like my nephew. The little guy used to hold his breath and turn blue and pass out. One time he messed his pants while playing outside. My mom turned the hose on him in the yard. I remember one time she went after him with a knife and told him she would "cut that thing off" if he didn't mind. He would get nightmares at night and say the fuzzy's were coming after him.

My sister remarried and the kids went to live with her and her new husband. The kids plight didn't improve cause their new dad was a violent man, too. He played weird little tricks on the kids making them beg all the time. In later years, I learned he molested my niece. My nephew asked to come and live with me...he was about 8 or 9 years old at the time. I wish I had taken him.

Today my nephew has spent most of his adult life behind bars. He has a charming personality...but has a violent temper. He told me he likes speed. It seems like something hasn't developed in him. Not retarded...something I don't know how to describe.

After marring I had a problem with anger. I was afraid of anger. I lived in constant fear of anger. So much so, that I always did what my husband told me to do. I was afraid he might get angry at me. One day I stood up to him and said,"I don't care if you hit me or get mad or me...but you are not my father or my mother so don't ever tell me what to do again."

Those were big words for me to say. It was a miracle that I got up enough courage to say what I was thinking. Even today, sometimes I have a problem saying what I want to say if it is contrary to what the group or individual is thinking.

One of my sons...has shown me his anger and violence. He threatened to kill me. He has terrorized me into thinking he would kill me. I made up my mind I would never see him again as long as I live. No one will terrorize me again.

Strange how the violence in a movie brought all this back to my mind. I guess it is something I haven't dealt with yet. I still keep my anger inside. Only a few times in my life have I let my anger out.

I was thinking...if a movie can make me think of all the violence in my life...what does it do to others? Does it bring out violence in others? Does it bring out fear in others? How does the violence in a movie affect other people? I think the answers might be scarry. If the violence doesn't affect others...that is scarry, too. I don't want to ever become numb to the violence in movies or in life. I want to become sick to my stomach and close my eyes and not look...but most of all I don't want to pay to see violence. It's not entertainment.