I lived in Cairo for many years. I met a ‘decent’ guy and we married three months after dating. At first, he was caring and loving. However, he became little by little extremely violent, both psychologically and physically. I became what is defined in Psychology as a ‘victim’. I was harmed and let myself being harmed. It was either for a matter of ‘half empty fridge’, or my ‘special style’, or even my way of talking to others… Every detail was used as an excuse to be humiliated, oppressed, beaten… I accepted repeated abuse without knowing at first that I could end this situation whenever I wanted.
I made the choice every day to stay. It took me quite a while to acknowledge the act of choosing to be in the path of chronic victimhood and the power to choose otherwise; to distinguish a closed fist from an act of love. There is always a choice, even if it is an unpleasant one. It took me a while…
It seems tantamount to say that I deserved the abuse and that I wasn’t a victim. No one deserves to be beaten, physically or psychologically. And the person wielding the fist doesn’t escape criminal blame so easily. Even when one feels impelled to accept abuse for whatever reason – having young children and no means to support them, fearing for one’s life if one leaves, fearing the unknown, etc. -, one does not deserve to be battered. Victim no more…