Every day in my country, in your country, ten girls or women die by the hand of a man. My daughter was one of them.
On July 15, 2013, after me and my wife Joy had both gone to work on a Monday morning, nineteen-year-old Jessie lay sleeping peacefully in her own bed. She was sleeping in. Jess was The Fiddler in the Hartford Players production of Fiddler on The Roof. After performing all weekend, she had been up late for the cast party.
A friend of Jessie’s who was welcome in our home and knew our routine came in, went upstairs, and did the unthinkable. He surprised Jess in her sleep, hog-tied her, gag-balled her, raped her, and strangled her to death. Not a crime of passion, but a planned attack. By a friend.
What is in us that can do such a thing? Where does such selfish, thoughtless violence come from? Everyone calls Jessie’s killer a monster. I disagree. A monster is a rare thing. But male on female violence is not only not rare, it’s everywhere.
Jess tried to tell me. Ironically, violence against women was her big cause in life. Now it’s her big cause in death. Jessie’s legacy is The LOVE>hate Project, and our dual mission was her mission, to end male on female violence through culture transformation, and inspire people to choose love over hate.
Jessie wasn’t one in a million. She was one out of three. One out of three of our girls and women experience some form of sexual violence in their lifetimes. One out of four experience domestic violence. The numbers aren’t that different for our boys either. One of six boys will be sexually assaulted in some way, shape, or form, and one of seven will be the victims of domestic violence.
I’m not an expert, just a dad on a learning curve that needs to try to do something about this darkness, this blight on humanity. This has been happening since the dawn of time. But for the first time in my lifetime, this issue has emerged from its shroud of silence, out of darkness and into the light of day, and become a white-hot national conversation. And with the light comes hope.
According to the U.S. Dept. of Justice, since the 1994 Violence Against Women Act, sexual assault has decreased per capita by 50% and domestic violence by 64%. In the first half of the last century, there were few shelters, nowhere for abused women to go. But with the domestic violence movement of the 1970’s, we now have shelters in every county in America. That’s progress, though it doesn’t look that way if you follow the news. This movement began decades ago, and it is reaching a crescendo now, approaching critical mass. But how do we throw gas on the fire? What can we do to accelerate this culture transformation? And how many more Jessie’s before we finish the job?
No one has all the answers yet or the problem would already be solved. But we’re moving now from direct intervention towards prevention. Instead of just having the direct interveners – police, shelters, social workers, etc.- desperately trying to save those drowning in the endless stream of victims, we must go “upstream”, address root causes, and prevent them from getting into the stream in the first place.
And that’s where you come in. Make sure you are building love into your circle of people. Be clear where you stand on this issue of male on female violence and have the courage to be public about it. Your voice matters. So does your story. If you have experienced violence, if you are a victim/survivor/thriver, and if it feels right and you’re ready, share your story and your truth. Powerful personal stories move the world. Be sure if you are a parent that you are not unconsciously teaching your children hate in any of its forms – violence, anger, selfishness, control, dehumanization, intolerance, and impatience. And finally, support your local service organizations.
A Facebook post from me to Jessie on the sixth anniversary of her killing:
Sweetie,
Six years ago today.
We will never forget you. We will always love you.
Deep sadness for your stolen time, our stolen moments, all the missed opportunities and experiences together. Deeper Love and Peace that will never bow to darkness.
Today I remember holding you in the warm Georgia night air when you were a baby and looking up at the moon together. Today I remember digging up the Pike Lake Pirate’s treasure with your friends in our backyard on your sixth birthday. Today I remember you perched in the apple tree thinking about life. Today I remember you saving a turtle, hugging our giant oaks and listening to their hearts, and singing your heart out anywhere and everywhere.
Holding you close, as you hold me, wherever you are. Dad.
