Within the Welly anarcho/commie/radical scene (no I don’t think of it as a movement or a Ghetto*) there have been a way too many instances of abuse. The huge majority of these have been men abusing women.
One of these prominent abusers was my old flatmate** who introduced me to activism, but more importantly was my friend. The kinda of friend who you’d actually consider calling or dropping in on at 2am during a meltdown because you know that it would have been ok. He wouldn’t have judged me or said to go away. He would have taken me seriously and made cups of tea. As it turns out he was abusive; physically, psychologically and sexually.
When things became (mostly) public I called him. I’d read an email that I didn’t understand about his abuse and he told me straight out that there was no sexual abuse, that he unintentionally hit her, but reassured me that that was all. And for some crazy reason I believed him. I thought that this friend who I regarded so highly, he wouldn’t lie. For months and months I went through so much bullshit, working with him so that there could be some kind of resolution for healing on both sides. There were meetings and more meetings about him and his behaviour that I didn’t really take part in. I could come up with a few criticisms of those meetings, but essentially I kinda knew that it wasn’t really the right approach for him, that he wouldn’t respond well. They just would not work. So then I started another approach with friends who wanted to try and resolve it another way, and after discussing it with his ex I felt alright about it. I was so sure that I’d help get things to a point where they’d both be ok. The problem was, it relied on his honesty and actually reflecting on his behaviour and actions.
After a while of getting nowhere I knew there was something else goin’ on. Two flats, a couple of campaigns, and a whole lotta shared friends later and things started feeling uneasy. I mean, I’d heard his excuses so often: for being late, being a no-show, meanly taking the piss so many times. Just one simple statement joined the dots and really made me second guess everything: “he’s good at making people feel sorry of him.”
Holy Crap! I was a sucker, in denial, but a sucker. Although I didn’t know the personal details and extend of his abuse it suddenly made sense. I could see the tricky ways words were woven to make others believe. To be honest, I’m not sure he understands the nature of his abuse, after all rape in a relationship looks a lot different than that portrayed generally. But you know what? That is no fucking excuse. No consent is no consent is rape. For those involved in radical organising that should be the bottom line. Now I know that’s where I’ve drawn my line. Friendships can be a funny thing, but actually, a fundamental component is not being a lying, manipulative dick.
This year a letter was sent out to various radical political groups in NZ about another abuser in our communities; Omar Hamed. In this instance his transgressions are so public and obvious I just can’t understand how they can be denied and not acted upon.
This first post is dedicated to those who wrote the letter. You are awesome! Awesomely prepared to say things that cause uncomfortableness. The revolution will not be comfy.
* The Wellington activist scene is not a ghetto. Poverty is real and ghetto’s shouldn’t be glamourised.
**The only reason I’m not naming him is because I have great respect for his partner and siblings, truly value their friendships. If your reading this and are upset, I’m sorry. Feel free to tell me.
Tags: awesome friends, feminism, patriarchy
This is an awesome and brave post–thank you. And I totally agree about those who wrote the letter about Omar Hamed, it probably made some people uncomfortable, it certainly helps keep us safer.