But On That Night...

Dad staggered in, eyes eerily lit.
The corners of his mouth foaming spit.
His demons planned an overnight stay.
mom motioned to take the girls away,

hide them in their rooms, safe in their beds.
We closed the doors, covered our heads,
as if blankets could mute the sounds of his blows
or we could silence her screams beneath our pillows.

I hugged the littlest ones close to my chest,
till the beat of my heart lulled them to rest.
Only then did I let myself cry.
Only then did I let myself wonder why

Mom didn't fight back, didn't defend,
didn't confess to family or friend.
Had Dad's demons claimed her soul?
Or was this, as well, a woman's role?

I recently read this passage from a book called "Burned" by Ellen Hopkins. It's one of the several books from the Crank series. As soon as I read this, I knew this would be the passage I would write about in my blog for the assignment we were given even though it's not my top favorite book. I love it so far though. Anyways... abuse is a big, big, big ordeal to me. I am a full believer of equality of not only race but men and women. Discriminating against women because of religion (the girl in the story is mormon) is a huge pet peeve of mine. Discriminating against women in general is terrible. I know it's just what some people believe and I can't put them down but I still have right to my own opinion. There is no "woman's role". Women have their own mind, their own feelings, their own everything. Men hitting, controlling, etc. their wives is disgusting. I will never let myself be in a position where a man is physically or mentally abusing me. I watched my mom go through bad relationships, I dealt with it with her. I'm done with it. Nobody should ever have to deal with people like that.