She sat like Patience

On a monument,

Smiling at grief,

Was not this love indeed?
— Shakespeare

PICTURE that poor woman, sitting silently on a monument, smiling at grief, putting on a brave face as she masks what hurt and pain she’s experiencing. That must be love indeed, or is it simply resignation and acceptance of her fate as she smiles at her sorry state? That, perhaps, is a prime example of a battered wife who tries to smile and laugh away the pain.

So many women — girlfriends, wives, common-law wives — are suffering from the effects of being battered, physically assaulted, whipped into submission, punched and kicked, by demons who purport to be husbands, lovers, or boyfriends.

Many of those women suffer in silence, but in this scenario silence is not golden. No one knows of their plight except them and their abusers. As a result, they suffer from battered wife syndrome, and many manage to mask it successfully, suffering in silence, smiling at grief.

But if you’re astute or sensitive you will see the symptoms or at least pick up on some of the indicators. If you aren’t, then you might judge those women harshly, or even berate them, for as far as you’re concerned they’re just acting weird, strange, silly, even stupid.

“Is how she a gwaan suh, like she nuh have nuh sense?”

We’ll see what this battered wife syndrome is all about, right after these responses to what I had to say about, ‘You know you’re old when…’

Hi Tony,

I was in a hotel in Ocho Rios a few years ago and was in attendance in the audience where a performance was in progress. The MC asked for volunteers to do a sketch on stage, and looked in my direction and said, “How about you, Pops?” Was he talking about me? Is who him calling Pops? It turned out it was me he was addressing, and that’s when I realised that I was getting old.

Stanley

Pickering, Ontario

Hello Teerob,

If I was 20 years younger I would come down to the
Observer and shake your hand. Unfortunately my bad hip and knees won’t allow me to do so, and I can’t even drive anymore. Yes, I feel old but I’m not yet cold, and I still look forward to reading your column every Sunday. This one really hit hard though for, believe it or not, I’m not yet 60 but I feel really old and mash up. I guess I let the old woman in.

Esmerelda

There’s a syndrome for almost everything, although some are more easily detected than others. There’s the Stockholm syndrome, where the kidnapped person actually falls in love with the kidnapper and identifies with him or her. I’ve mentioned this before in the case of American heiress Patty Hearst who was kidnapped and fell in love with her captor, and even carried out illegal acts with him and his group.

Then there’s the battered wife syndrome, which is more subtle than the Stockholm syndrome, although there may be a distinct similarity as the battered wife still ‘loves’ her husband and refuses to leave him, even defending his actions. How do we detect this syndrome in women?

Now, I have known a few battered women in my time, and even to my untrained eye I could detect that something was seriously wrong in the relationship. There was trouble in the camp, the dolly house was in peril and being shaken at the foundation, even though I saw no physical evidence of battering taking place.

Of course there are telltale signs, such as bruises on the body of the woman, or a black eye now and then. Even now I remember a teacher from my high school days who was abused by her husband, who was also a teacher there.

She was well loved by us all so when she started to come to classes with black eyes and bruises, with the explanation that she “walked into a door” or “fell down while cleaning the house”, we knew that something was wrong.

We plotted among ourselves to waylay her husband one day after school and take him behind the building to administer a proper beating. But good sense prevailed and we abandoned that plan. Even at that early age we could detect a woman who was suffering from battered wife syndrome.

What are the symptoms? The women who I mentioned earlier displayed a sort of childlike disposition: shy, withdrawn, introverted, low self-esteem, and couldn’t look you in the eyes when they spoke to you. It was similar behaviour to some children who were always told to be seen and not heard — shy and withdrawn in the company of adults.

These women became even more so when their husbands approached, and they shrank even further into their shadow in the same way that shrinking violets do. There’s a plant here that as children we used to call Shame Old Lady. Whenever we touched that plant the leaves would suddenly close up, “quail up” as we used to say, shutting out the world and whatever came too close — the very same symptoms displayed in the battered wife syndrome.

They assume the role of the victim, and in their mind everything that happens to them is their fault, despite what cruel and heinous acts the man metes out.

“It’s my fault why he beats me, it’s my actions that made him do it.”

Women who suffer from this syndrome are often afraid to seek help for they fear that their abuser is all-powerful and above reproach. I remember having a friend who fell into that category, and she would often come to me in tears because her husband would beat her mercilessly. When I told her to go to the authorities or police, her reply was, “They can’t touch him, and he’d take away the children if I reported him.”

She continued in the marriage, getting knocked out more than a boxer with a poor ring record, and having to be rescued more than once by her neighbours. And yet, she professed to love him. ‘Smiling at grief, was not this love indeed?’

Then there’s denial. The woman refuses to believe that she’s being battered, and accepts it as normal behaviour. If you ever dare to bring this to her attention she may verbally abuse you and tell you to leave her husband alone.

“He’s a good man and I love him. Yes, he’s a little rough, but that’s how he shows his love.”

The battered woman is often emotionally forgiving, and in spite of the numerous beatings that she may get from the man she will always forgive him. As a result, those abusers exploit this forgiving nature, and will cry crocodile tears after each beating.

“Honey, I’m so sorry, I will never hit you again. Is just slip me hand slip and ketch you, please forgive me.”

And she will too, until the next time, for abuse is almost always cyclical, occurring over and over again over a period of weeks, months, years, but it never goes away. Some women experience it on a daily basis and learn to live with it.

“If a day passes and he doesn’t hit me I wonder if he’s okay.”

Some men take sardonic pleasure in battering women, and even now I remember this man from my childhood days. One day he passed us sitting on our front fence and said, “You boys like matinee? Friday will be showtime.” Naturally, we thought he meant that he’d be showing movies at his house and we were invited. Well, Friday night came and all that we heard was cow-bawling and screams coming from his house.

The next day he saw us and said, “Enjoyed the matinee?” That was his idea of a sick joke: beating his wife on Friday nights and boasting about it afterwards. Needless to say, she complained to her brothers who came and gave him a proper beating. That’s one matinee that we enjoyed thoroughly. We never saw him again.

I was a child, but still recognised battered wife syndrome, even though they hadn’t given it a name as yet. Many women haven’t got brothers to protect them and so instead suffer through the symptoms, refusing or unable to seek the help that they need.

Many refuse to leave, thinking that they cannot exist without their partner. But the signs are there — withdrawn, making excuses not to be with friends or family, showing an extreme change in personality, sometimes seeming to be too happy all the time as a cover up, always being tracked by their husbands — especially on the cellphone — having a jealous partner who has a bad temper.

All these and more are the indications of women who suffer from battered wife syndrome. Do you know any such person? Sure you do. Are you one such person, and would you admit to it? Help is available.

More time.

seido1yard@gmail.com

Footnote:
Recently I saw some very bright schoolchildren talking on TV about their high school aspirations after GSAT, or is it PEP? They were all articulate and focused, but one little boy’s comments made me chuckle. He said that he didn’t see the need to have essays in the exams as he wouldn’t be writing essays after leaving school. I reflected on my life of reading and writing that has impacted every aspect of my life. Even this column is basically an essay.

I went to St Aloysius Primary, but in my pre-primary school years, at about age seven, my teacher would hand out homework to write an essay, or composition as we used to call it. When I handed in mine the next morning she was convinced that my mother wrote them for me, and told me so. I wept. It wasn’t until my mom came to the school and told the teacher to have me write one there in her presence that she was convinced that it was my work. Some things you never forget.