What To Do When Your Partner Hits You

When I was single and imagining life as a married woman, I thought of many things my husband could potentially do wrong – like cheating on me – but I never really considered domestic violence, nor did I ever wonder what to do when your partner hits you. I knew it was a thing that could happen to people, but it was not a thing that could happen to me. I was too strong, I thought. Too smart, for sure. And who born the maga sef? Besides, I would vet any man before I married him anyway, so I knew I would never, ever be married to a wife-beater. No, not I.

But almost six years into my marriage, I became the woman I never thought I would become. Things happened to me that I swore would never, could never happen to me. Ironically, I was not cheated on – not that I know of anyway. To say that I was “a victim of domestic violence” was and still is very heavy on my lips. Because I’m just not the one. I’m not the one, or the two or the three. Still, it happened to me.

The first time The Boy hit me, my first reaction was to scream. Then I was on the floor, on my knees, my head down, crying. I don’t remember the pain of him hitting me. If you ask me, I’d say I did not feel the pain, that it did not hurt. But maybe it did and my heart felt more emotional pain than my body felt physical pain. What I do know is that I was emotionally and mentally distressed. It was a betrayal that I had not expected or prepared for.

I suppose different people would react to this in different ways. Someone else in my shoes might have fought back. Someone else might have run away. One never really knows until one is in the situation. For me, I just cried. I remember I slept next to my baby that night. I needed her that night more than she needed me. I was so confused. The next day, I googled what to do when your partner hits you. I read lots of articles and online forums offering solutions. Everything I read said that if he abuses you once, he will most likely do it again.

I considered going to the police to file a report in the morning. I considered telling my family. I ended up doing nothing. I convinced myself that it was a mistake, that things just escalated this one time, that since he never did it before, he would never do it again. I needed to believe that, so I did.

However, after some time passed, I got stronger, thought straighter, removed the emotions from it. I warned The Boy, told him that if he ever tried that nonsense again, he would get a different reaction from me. And I meant every word I spoke. So, in December 2017, when he pushed me because I found the juju he hid in his mother’s luggage, I wasted no time in calling the police. He didn’t even have to hit me this time. This time, I was prepared. This time, I was coming from experience, although this was something I’d have preferred to never experience.

I am so happy that I called the police. And I am so happy that I followed through with getting a protective order against The Boy. And when it was time for the criminal trial, I was there for that, too. When I filed for divorce, I had two lawyers. When I disclosed the domestic violence to them, the first question they both asked was, “Did you call the police?” The next question was, “Did you get a protective order?” And the last question was, “Did you testify?” When I responded yes to all three, they were happy and relieved. And by the end of my divorce, I understood why.

I’m not writing about this today because I just feel like retelling my story. I’m writing about this because thanks to the Coronavirus, couples have been forced to stay home together – even couples who don’t like each other. Abusive partners now have twenty-four hours a day to be even more abusive. Since the stay-at-home order, domestic violence has gone up by as much as 62%. Women are calling the police at all times of the day to state that they’re being abused. An article on the New York Times referred to domestic violence as “intimate terrorism,” and I could not agree more.

Culturally, our women stay in abusive relationships. Due to fear, shame, and ignorance, we stay. We think we don’t have options, or that this is how it’s meant to be, but it isn’t. We worry about what people would say, and we forget that people will always say something anyway. We say that we’re staying for the children, but all we’re doing is teaching the children that this is normal, that it’s okay for a person to mistreat and abuse you, that you should love your marital status more than you love your own life.

Well, I’m still not the one. Or the two. Or the three. That cannot be how my story goes. I chose to walk away, and I have never looked back. My daughter will not have to grow up in chaos deceptfully wrapped up as family. That’s not family. I did not stay for my daughter. I chose to walk away for her.

Please, I beg you, don’t let this be your story. Walk away. Save yourself. Save your children. Don’t let your children/family mourn you. Shit, don’t mourn yourself while there’s still breath in you. If your partner hits you, call the police. Get somewhere safe. Follow through. Don’t change your mind and dismiss the case. Save yourself.  Please leave now so you can live later. I swear to you that no man born of a woman is worth it. When your partner hits you once, he will likely do it again. And it will get worse. Walk away. GET OUT.

P.S. Yes, I know that men are also victims of domestic violence, but today, it’s about the women.

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