“The woman was made of a rib
out of the side of Adam; not made out of his head to rule over him, nor out of
his feet to be trampled upon by him, but out of his side to be equal with him,
under his arm to be protected, and near his heart to be beloved.” Mathew Henry,
Commentary on the Whole Bible 1706
At home church on Wednesday, I heard a term
for the first time: toxic masculinity. It’s been around for a while but had never
crossed my path previous to this point in my life.
Toxic masculinity consists of many of the
ideas blogged about over the last few posts. In a nut shell, it is how male culture breeds chauvinism,
power, and tacit permission to treat women badly in the name of “manly
behaviours.”
I realized last night, and this brought me to
tears: men don’t necessarily know they are abusers or that their behaviours are
abusive. Their cultural conditioning is just as deep and unconscious as the toxic
female culture which left me vulnerable to being abused.
On the heels of that sad, sad understanding,
my ex came to mind. I felt the teeth of my ages old foe of justification
snapping at my soul.
Yes, he was a product of his culture. He
learned from his father how to treat women. His mom told me horrific stories
about her husband. Her jaw never healed properly after one particularly vicious
beating. Was her son justified to treat me badly because of this?
Knowing a huge chunk of the why isn’t helping
this morning.
Maybe I am not ready to extend grace. Or
maybe I am confusing grace with making excuses for what happened. Maybe I need
to let myself off the hook first.
Hey, Sue, remember what you just wrote: Men don’t necessarily know they are abusive.
And that is
harder than anything to wrap my head around.
It’s even harder to wrap my head around how
hard I worked to justify what happened. The excuses I made for his
behaviour…even now I am wrestling with the idea that I should never criticize
him in public or discuss marital matters with anyone. He said, frequently, it
was out of respect for the sanctity of our marriage.
Folks, secrecy is foundational in any abusive relationship, marriage or otherwise.
I’ve been divorced for a long time, though not
as long as the marriage lasted. While having walked away physically, the
emotional baggage is immense, complex, pervasive, and hard to shake. It sucks to
have a reminder of all the crap as I swallow the necessary anxiety and sleep meds every single night.
It’s darn confusing, too, when old ideas leap
up and reveal how much they shape how I think today.
In closing, I realize I need help to understand how grace works because it feels as though grace is simply another name for justification. Maybe I am afraid extending grace to men (Bruxy is part of this, too) is giving permission for things to keep on trucking like they always have.
Lord, the bitterness is choking me. Please, please, help me move beyond this. Help me forgive Bruxy for stirring all this crap up because right now, I really, really want to hurt him. My rage is distasteful and ugly and toxic. This is not who or how I want to be. In Jesus' name, AMEN!
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