It wasn’t really serendipity—this month is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, after all—but it did inspire the way I would shape my awareness campaign this year. Since the pandemic, I have been more deeply focused on understanding community culture; how it develops, where it fails, how it balances with growing individualism, the impacts of gender and the patriarchy on norms, and much more. I took this focus with me to my doctorate program and have been developing projects that center around the Muslim/Muslim Arab communities, particularly areas where they could step up for their members, especially their women. Domestic violence is most certainly one of those areas.
I’m not the first survivor and it hurts to know I won’t be the last, but I kept thinking about that Instagram question and realizing I cannot imagine a world without domestic violence without understanding its core causes. And what better way than to learn from the narratives of survivors?
The first week of October, I asked survivors to share what they wish they had during their experiences that would have helped them. I was really honored that many survivors were willing to open up and share their vulnerable confessions, but I have to admit, it was also disheartening to read them. Not because they were triggering but because they illustrated how painfully disappointing the community has been to its members, especially its women, and nothing concrete changes.
Each year, I pick a certain theme about domestic violence to focus on during October. It’s usually more personal reflections to differentiate from the education and awareness on DV throughout the year—quotes from my poems, firsthand examples of the types of abuse vs. definitions, red flags and lessons learned, and the community’s role in the whole cycle, which is this year’s theme.
What struck me the most from the responses I received is that each survivor expressed the same final point: they wish they had community support. I want to give space to their other responses first, because they are important, but after I read through everything, I found that they all do in fact link back to community. Survivors wished they had access to better financial stability and support to sustain a living after leaving. They wished for more diverse and culturally aware therapists who could understand their backgrounds. Other survivors wished that religion and culture were not manipulated and used as a fear-mongering tactic to keep them in their relationships. That shame and concerns over community reputation wasn’t so heavily used as a threat. That they would be believed and not judged or betrayed.
By the end of the responses, I felt heavy but in a way that reinforced my plan to launch my AFTER THE UNMAKING video series on community’s role in the perpetuation of domestic violence. In a total of four short episodes, I am hoping to illuminate the same pain points of these other survivors (that I too suffer from) and carve a pathway for foundational change. Storytelling has always been one of the most effective teachers (hello, Hakawati from Syria!) and as a writer and poet, it’s my forever go to. I found a calling in my survival and if sharing my experiences can bring a sense of solidarity and a sense of awareness to the spaces that need them, so be it.
While there are so many beautiful and valuable traditions we should honor and uphold from our ancestors, there is no need to pass down the culture of silence that keeps nurturing the seeds of abuse, violence, and sexism. We deserve better and can, most certainly, be capable of it!
