Tag: victim

  • The Great Taboo: Patriarchy Begins At Home.

    Reposted from Womb of Light – by Bethany Webster.

    There’s a reason why it’s been really hard for us to find solutions to our current global challenges. There’s a reason why feminism, with all its gains, has made only limited sustainable momentum for women. There’s a reason why we’re seeing regressive movements and a rise in authoritarianism around the world. It’s due to a huge taboo that we haven’t been willing to face as a collective.

    We have a short window of time to make significant changes before we’re on an irreversible course of climate change, which will impact the earth and humanity in staggering and unforeseen ways. Species are dying off at an unprecedented rate. All things female or representing “femaleness” are under attack: women and our right to reproductive choice, female children, our oceans, animal species, air quality, loss of farmable agricultural land, just to name a few. The violence perpetrated by men and groups of men is being revealed to be more brazen and psychopathic than we had imagined.

    Patriarchy and the Mother Wound: An Urgent Call to Look Within

    One could say that our global situation is a projection of the devastation of our inner landscapes, mirroring something that we must urgently look at within ourselves.

    The Stigma of Victimhood

    A major hurdle to confronting our taboo is that there’s a strong bias against victims in our culture. No one wants to feel like a victim. No one wants to appear as a victim to others. The problem is that this anti-victim bias is precisely what keeps us perpetually stuck in a victimhood.

    Not wanting to be a victim keeps us stuck in victimhood.

    We all bear a mark of victimhood that we are deeply defended against acknowledging because we’ve learned to equate being victim with weakness and defend against it. There’s a deep memory of powerlessness of early childhood that we want to avoid. Our avoidance keeps us in a cycle of replicating the wound over and over again personally and collectively.

    The Family is Patriarchy’s Chief Institution

    The family is patriarchy’s chief institution, as Kate Millet said back in the 70’s. We can name all the atrocities we see out in the world, feel outraged, start initiatives, create organizations, etc. We may become “activists.” But if we haven’t grappled with how we personally have been force-fed patriarchy’s anti-life, anti-female, anti-feeling philosophy as small, helpless children, we can’t move beyond it. As a species, we may not even make it. We have to get to the root first.

    The Mother Wound is the social condition, rooted in patriarchy, which manifests on the personal, cultural, spiritual and planetary level. 

    The Mother Wound is the result of patriarchy’s damaging impact on human development, by way of the systematic oppression of women through hundreds of generations, thus crippling humanity and leading to unprecedented death and destruction on our planet.

    Do you want to learn more about the Mother Wound and how it may be impacting you? Click here to download the new ebook: What is the Mother Wound? An Essential Guide for Women.

    We Know Patriarchy is an Issue. Why Hasn’t More Been Done? 

    Patriarchy values competition, domination, maleness, and a mode of “winning at all costs.” This isn’t just a cultural atmosphere that we get a whiff of every now and then. It’s flowing through our veins and is present in our brain’s neural-circuitry. It got locked into place by the time we were 7 years old.

    Humanity is locked in survival mode, a place of reactivity, flight, flight, freeze or fawn. We are a traumatized species creating more trauma around us. 

    The beliefs, patterns and behaviors we internalized in order to survive in patriarchy are all inside us, and because our families were ground zero for this cultural transfer to take place, they got mixed with our basic human needs of love, safety and belonging. This has compromised our trajectory. Like an invisible fence, we unconsciously stay within certain confines of thinking, feeling and behaving and stay away from others, all while heading off a cliff of collective destruction.

    Childhood Trauma is Normalized

    The majority of us grew up in emotional warzones that were our childhood homes. We have to confront the emotional magnitude of how we suffered as children as a result of the passing along of patriarchal values and norms. None of us have fully escaped this. The reason we keep avoiding this is because this requires emotional resilience and openness to pain, empathy and care, the very things that patriarchy has deemed taboo. As children we were alone with our pain. It’s like a black hole we avoid but subsconsiously it’s controlling our choices and keeping us stuck. We like to think that as adults, we’ve moved beyond childhood simply because we’re older, but in reality we are stuck there emotionally.

    Being with our pain isn’t victimhood. It’s the epitome of personal responsibility and a mark of emotional maturity. 

    Moving through this pain can only happen through being with the pain, through having a loving, empathic inner witness alongside it, what I call an “Inner Mother”. This shift in consciousness is a bridge we must cross psychologically if we are to evolve as a species.

    False Narratives Keep Us in Denial: “It wasn’t that bad.”

    I’ll never forget watching helplessly as my father tormented my little brother. Any time he cried, my father would tell him to “take the pain” and sadistically not allow him to cry. Often he would come home and start hitting him for no reason. I would scream to get him to stop. When I got older, I recall hearing about how my grandfather would beat my father as young as 2 years old, sometimes throwing him against a wall, beating him almost to the point of passing out.

    Our standards for humanity are really low when progress looks like each subsequent generation is slightly less suicidal and desperate than the next.

    I recall how terrifying it was as a little girl, to long to hold my mother for comfort, but instead I sensed her emotional desperation and had no choice but to endure her focus on me as a kind of surrogate mother to the motherless child within her. I disassociated, thought about suicide at 11 years old, and withdrew into spirituality as a cocoon from the pain of emotional neglect. I found out later that my mother had been threatening suicide to my brother when he was a teen. A big secret in her family was that her mother was drunk for much of her childhood and threatened to commit suicide to her as well.

    Our everyday problems are constantly showing us symptoms of the deeper wounds that are potential entry points for insight and healing.

    These may sound like extreme examples to some, but my family looked like a perfect family from the outside. Up until college, I idealized my family and was in complete denial of any pain I went through. What I learned is that the everyday surface problems that we experience are “cover stories” for the real story beneath. We are in deep denial of the old narrative running in the background. We don’t have to go “digging” in our past, it’s all present just beneath the surface.

    The Taboo of the Mother Wound

    The great taboo is that Patriarchy is a traumatizing culture and we all suffer from the Mother Wound to some degree as a result. We’ve been traumatized personally in our families, in the culture at large, spiritually through a sense of being subject to a judgmental male god, and on planetary level by feeling disconnected from the earth.

    We are at an existential crisis point in which our survival depends on integrating the female/mother aspect of humanity we’ve been denying. 

    This unresolved trauma we experienced privately at home was doubly reinforced by our experiences with education, the state, media, entertainment, religion, etc. The Mother Wound is the “center of the wheel of suffering” that impacts every area of our lives, from our relationships, to careers, to parenting, to relationships to our bodies and more. Admitting this is not being a victim or powerless; it’s a sign of intelligence and hope for our species. The most potent access points to healing is looking at how the Mother Wound shows up in our personal lives. When enough of us doing this our culture can be transformed. As we heal, we evolve and humanity moves forward.

    White Male Privilege and Spiritual Bypassing

    Our collective denial is so strong that most doctors, many therapists, and scores of spiritual teachers and coaches, are active purveyors of this great denial of childhood trauma. It’s as though there’s an overlay that blinds us to it and also blinds us to the reality that we’re blind to it.

    I was watching a talk recently between Gabor Mate and Adyashanti, two authors I admire. Towards the end of the talk, the topics of trauma and spiritual bypassing were finally broached. Both agreed that trauma is extremely prevalent in their students and how in recent years dozens of highly regarded spiritual teachers were exposed for sexual assault and improprieties. Adyashanti said “You should not expect your spiritual teacher to be an expert on trauma.” My question is why not? If the vast majority of your students and followers suffer from some form of trauma (as they mentioned) then why not make your teachings and resources inclusive of that?

    True integrity demands that every spiritual teacher or leader of any kind be experts on their own trauma at the very least. And they should consider themselves to be ongoing students of trauma, deepening their understanding of how it affects human potential. One can’t have grounded spirituality without acknowledging how trauma shapes us and blocks us from knowing our true nature.

    Any legitimate form of activism, spirituality or healing should always go hand in hand with an understanding that our personal trauma is always playing a role in how we show up. 

    Without this acknowledgement, our initiatives and movements will continue to be superficial, unsustainable, prone to conflict or unethical. In other words, some virulent thread of patriarchy will always remain and our efforts will be deeply limited.

    We need to be experts on how we were traumatized in our families and how it impacts our lives. This should no longer be a taboo. We need to make healing the Mother Wound a badge of honor and integrity. This isn’t blame, it’s generational responsibility. Patriarchy, and the trauma it creates, has blinded us to the depth and complexity of ourselves and each other. It’s time to raise the standard.

    At another point in the talk, Gabor expressed surprise that Adyashanti’s zen teacher was not some great man, but rather, an active mother of 5 children. I found it interesting that there was a marked lack of curiosity about her life or how she reached such heights of wisdom; no curiosity about how the fact of her being a mother may have factored into her spiritual advancement.

    Through objectification and commodification of female human life, we are a shadow of our collective potential and now a menace to life on earth. 

    Racism, homophobia, and sexism appear more rampant and escalated than ever. Our “othering” of certain humans based on race or sex is an echo of how we learned to “other” the traumatized child within us. It all emanates from there.

    Women are Closer to the Truth (and the Pain) 

    Through my teaching and coaching women, I’ve seen that working through your own Mother Wound begins to inoculate you from feeling like a victim and replicating those early wounds with others. The sense of victimhood greatly diminishes as it’s no longer a default setting running in the background. With the foggy glaze of denial dissolving around your own vision, you are better able to see reality as it is and able to be more honest with yourself.

    You are likely to feel more empowered and at choice in situations where you may have felt trapped in reactivity in the past.

    You feel more like an adult and less like a victimized child. Thus, you elevate the people and spaces around you by simply being who you are, unapologetically and undefensively. Part of our collective healing is supporting one another on this path.

    Both Men and Women Have Anti-Female Feelings

    We have to confront our anti-female feelings. We learned “anti-femaleness” through the cognitive dissonance of early childhood, in which our mothers were the most important, significant person in our lives. Yet, they were also the most denigrated, disempowered and disrespected in our own homes and in every aspect of the world.

    Ultimately, both men and women are suffering from a form of self-abandonment that occurred early in life, a splitting off from feelings, empathy, care, process, depth, presence; things that “Mother” represented and was defiled for.

    All kinds of dysfunction, pain and trauma flowed from there, for all of us, to varying degrees. These are the very qualities we have to birth in ourselves to move beyond patriarchy.

    Reckoning With the Taboo of the Mother Wound

    Reckoning with this great taboo is the ground zero for creating a new earth, a new era for humanity. Healing the Mother Wound widens the gap between stimulus and response so that we’re less often in a state of reactivity and fight, flight, freeze or fawn. Through that widened space, more human potential can be realized and solutions to our most pressing global problems can be found.

    Here’s a sample of what we recover through healing the Mother Wound: 

    1. Resensitize Yourself to Life: 

    Life gets re-animated. Instead of seeing things through a lens of deadening labels and an overlay of trauma, we can more easily perceive the visceral beauty, depth and the preciousness of life all around us.

    2. Integrate Instead of Compartmentalize: 

    We are more able to see life as an integrated whole and our self-awareness increases. We see connections more than differences. The differences feel less threatening. We are more open to feedback.

    3. Redefine Triggers as Opportunities: 

    Our reactivity is a teacher showing us what is next for us to heal from our past. Each trigger is an opportunity to make new choices that we couldn’t as kids.

    4. Reclaim Embodied Ways of Knowing:

    Felt experience becomes a source of wisdom and information. We act on our own self-knowledge and learn to trust it. Reclaiming ourselves as the authority of our experience. Learning to trust our observations and intuitions.

    5. Anoint Being Over Doing: 

    Trusting our need for rest, silence, for space, for time without feeling like something terrible is going to happen unless we’re productive.

    6. De-Objectify the World Around You: 

    As we become emotionally available for the traumatized child within us, we become emotionally available for other people, we feel empathy more deeply, we feel more connected to non-human species and the earth itself.

    7. Value the Vulnerable: 

    As we get in touch with the scope and magnitude of how much we suffered emotionally as children, we see value in things like grief, sadness, disappointment, welcoming them rather than judging or shaming ourselves for them. We look forward to the renewal and regeneration they offer and the clarity that always follows in their wake.

    Do you want to learn more about the Mother Wound and how it may be impacting you? Click here to download What is the Mother Wound? An Essential Guide for Women.

    Questions for Reflection: Patriarchy as a Culture of Trauma that begins in our childhood homes

    • How did patriarchy play out in your family of origin?
    • How were patriarchal values transmitted and reinforced?
    • What was that like for you emotionally?
    • How did you adapt or cope with that environment?
    • What challenges do you have in your current life that are rooted in those early experiences?
    • What are some ways you can be present to that child within you?
    • What resources or support do you need in our daily life to make this happen?

    Healing the Mother Wound is not a quick, glamorous or easy path. But it is the authentic path to inter-generational healing and transformation that we must undertake. Through this work, we create a better world for ourselves, our families, our children, and the earth.

    I invite you to join me to learn more:

    If you want to join a group of women focused on emerging from patriarchy, check out Emergence Now. If you want to dive deeper into your own personal healing work, check out the Mother Wound Online Course. If you have any questions reach out to my team at support@motherwound.com. Thank you for being here!

    Copyright 2019 Bethany Webster. All Rights Reserved.

     

  • Sexual Abuse & Trauma relived – the first of a two-part account

    I am settling down in bed, adjusting to the dark, relaxing after my day, and dropping into the beginnings of sleep. Suddenly I hear movement around me as 6 or 8 male figures loom over me, surrounding my bed. I don’t immediately sense danger and It takes me a moment to realise the aggressive energy of intent that is pouring from them. Hot panic floods my body as my protective bedcovers are stripped away and a dozen silent hands lift my pyjama’d body roughly into the air, maybe one at each arm and leg and one each side at my middle. I am frozen with momentary shock and then raw adrenaline triggers my struggle to free my limbs from their grip. I swear at them to leave me alone. They respond with more force, tearing my pyjama bottoms down to expose my privates. Although there are no lights on, they can see my body from a light outside the un-curtained windows. I only see shadowed faces, but I know who they are.

    And then one of them, the leader I guess, starts to handle my private parts pulling on my penis, taunting me with how limp it is, and then pumping it with his fingers as if trying to induce an erection. I will forget his words, although the experience I will never forget. He implies that if I am gay I should be enjoying this. At these words one of the others makes a symbolic gesture of pushing his finger between my buttocks and pressing up my ass. There is no penetration and yet I feel defiled in that moment of absolute victimisation.

    All this probably lasts only a few seconds, but time is standing still for me as I am gripped in a maelstrom of terror and outrage, humiliation and shame – oppressed by the oppressors. Then I feel my body slump back down on the bed and they are gone, away into the shadows. I lie there unmoving and disassociated for several minutes, as my inner heat is cooled by the night air on my stripped naked body. I pull my pyjamas back over me as if to cover my shame in the dark. I feel broken and beaten by the sense of violation and victimisation at the hands of such distorted masculine domination. The visceral sense of being punished for being too sensitive, too artistic, too feminine, is all part of my confusion and pain. I am aware of something deeply life-changing having taken place. But I already start to minimise it out of a desperate need to feel normal again.

    It will take me many years to fully comprehend the extent of this abuse and to honour myself as a sensitive man instead of trying to hide it. It will take me many years before I can share such a traumatic event with a few close friends, and finally to be able to name it as a rape experience, penetration or not.

      I am 16, I am a sensitive adolescent preparing for my ‘O’ level exams in a class of youths who have been making it very clear that they do not like my behaviour and my attitude towards them. The dominant gang among them has decided to punish me, calling me a queer and a puff. I have been attending classes in the face of this oppressive atmosphere for weeks on end. I feel the pain inside and try to hold my head high on the outside. I am used to living this way, refusing to show they can hurt me, but lately they have been expressing their anger and frustration, by calling me self-righteous and cocky. They cannot tolerate difference, sensitivity.

    Bullying, which has always been rife, is the accepted way of expressing this intolerance and is of course, as I learn much later, driven by the projected pain, fear and vulnerability that everyone suffers in this all-male english boarding school. And so it has always been.

    I can only see my side of the situation, after 3 years of living through a particularly invasive and painful kind of verbal abuse. But, this term, I have found an unexpected solution, a partial escape. I will explain: I am not the only artistically inclined student in my year; there are several musicians. But as the sole visual artist, my talent has been acknowledged such that I have been invited to join the ‘stage staff’, as we are known; a team of boys who manage the school’s stage productions: the scenery for plays, the lighting and all the essential processes that go on behind the scenes in the school’s theatre productions. I have been put in charge of designing and painting the sets for the opera Cosi Fan Tutte.

    As a member of the Stage Staff we are allowed to work and hang out in the backstage areas at any time out of school teaching hours. I initially looked up to the other members, who are mainly sixth formers, older and well versed in all the operations of the stage. To my great relief and joy, they have accepted me for who I am as a person, instead of the female sexual object which had become my cross to bear since my first year. Now I have found myself among a more mature group who have accepted me without prejudice and I have quickly gained respect for my contributions, artistically and socially.

    This has been my lucky escape from the tyranny of fifth form life, but also the source of the bullying that’s been building up in the face of my move. My classmates have clearly been angered by my new allegiances, by my disappearances, and the privileges we stage-staffers enjoy.

    In a way they are right to be envious. All of us fifth formers expend hours of time and energy looking for ways to escape the boring routines of school life, the rules and restrictions that frustrate our need to rebel and experiment with life. Many of us smoke behind the bike sheds, funk gym classes and defy the curfew on dark evenings to turn up at the back door of a local pub for illicit bottles of cheap beer. There is an underbelly of rebellious competition that drives us to break rules and get away with all sorts of out-of-bounds activities. Like most teenagers, we need to take risks and pump adrenalin. There are a few leaders and always enough followers willing to join forces, creating a sense of safety in numbers.

    And then suddenly I have been enjoying legitimate freedoms unavailable to the rest of my class. Hence an added source of the anger and rejection displayed by my peers. I was able to live with this ostracisation for a while with the hope they would become bored and turn their focus onto someone else, but I was totally unaware of the lengths they would be willing to go to ensure that I am harshly and painfully punished for what I represent to them. I can’t tell if they genuinely believe I am homosexual; after all, in the eyes of these jocks, anyone who is interested in the dramatic arts has to be a queer. Such is the narrow and prejudicial climate I am living in.

    But these days I am experiencing a depth of companionship and camaraderie with my friends behind the stage, that I have not known before. I had been spending less and less time with the fifth form gang to minimise negative attention, in whose presence I have to grit my teeth, as I am now so used to doing. My defences against verbal abuse are strong but this latest event is of a different caliber.

    To be continued…….

  • Caught in the Headlights – Boarding School Wounds

    I feel the piercing eyes of the school master boring into me, transfixing me, demanding an answer. Not just any answer I might blurt out from fear, but the right answer, the one and only answer that will allow me to escape from this terrifying predicament.

    I have witnessed this scenario from the outside enough times to know what happens next; the two possible outcomes. The poor victim either gets the answer right and the teacher moves on, or he gets it wrong and the teacher shouts in anger, pouring on as much public shame as he can for good measure, to ensure that the lazy, ignorant pupil learns his lesson and pulls his socks up in future.

    Its hard enough to be a witness to this familiar scene, but this time its me in the hot seat, the shame bucket. My paralyzing fear brings me close to tears of self pity. Then suddenly my fists clench, signifying an angry defiance that brings me a feeling of welcome power and protection.

    “I refuse to give you anything. You can put me on the spot in front of the whole class but I will NOT succumb to your cruel games. I will NOT let you see my fear, my tears, my anger. I cannot win this battle you have forced on me, but I will NOT let you win either. You can hold me captive for as long as you want, but you canNOT take my inner pride from me. You will not humiliate me and make me wrong. I defy you by giving you NOTHING! NOTHING to get hold of, NOTHING with which to turn the screw and hurt me more than you have already”.

    It is indeed a battle I cannot win, because I cannot be sure that the answer I could give would be the right one. This I dare not risk. So my childlike mind has found a strategy that allows me not to lose, in my own mind at least. That way I get to keep my inner flame alight, my soul intact. My stubborn determination holds a secret power and this saves me from feeling the destructive effects of exposure and victimhood. It feels like it saves me from the risk of annihilation.

    What I am describing worked for me at the time, age 9. It was a strategy I had learned in the first days and weeks of being sent away to boarding school to overcome the emotional pain of parental loss. It worked for me up to a point through my teenage years, through the years of psychological abuse I suffered at boarding school. It made me strong in one sense, in the words of the old adage I learned back then like a mantra; ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but words alone can’t hurt me’. But I was a sensitive boy and the effects of this strategy (trying to overcome fear and stay safe in threatening situations) were deeply damaging to my emotional body. The words did hurt me, but by refusing to show my feelings, I was not just hiding I was actually shutting down my ability to feel my emotions. Numbing out became my norm.

    This self protection was an armour I wore all the time in case it was needed. I was always on duty, on guard. It became my default position. Tragically, I was not only cutting off from my anger and fear. I was inevitably cutting off from my ability to be spontaneous and open, to take risks, to experience passion, to feel unbridled joy; and I have been wearing this armour ever since.

    This morning S helped me to reach down into my feelings via my body’s wisdom and to relive my child’s angry defiance in the face of the original teacher’s cruel interrogation 55 years ago. It only took a few moments of recall and I found myself sobbing tears of compassion for that plucky 9-year-old boy that was me, who had to go through such suffering, who was so brave, whose defiant inner power I could feel alive in me now, including his anger towards his parents for abandoning him at such a young age. I felt I could have cried for a long time; tears of unexpressed grief which tell me my buried anger and grief are big. So big.

    The traumas of moments like this classroom scene from my childhood, have left me vulnerable at any moment to debilitating fear, overwhelm and frozen confusion, especially when i am put o the spot. I haven’t trusted myself to manage many of the things I might have attempted to achieve in life, given the talents I have been blessed with. My childhood strategy has kept me silent and suppressed, unable to speak up and speak out, afraid to set boundaries, unable to ask for my needs and often unaware that I have any. I have been living a ‘half-hearted’ life, all conveniently hidden behind the convincing mask of a quietly confident Mr Nice Guy, who has been my strongest ally and yet the enemy of my truth.

    Up till now I have not managed to heal and change this self-limiting stance, in spite of years of training and therapy. Being aware of my outer persona and what goes on behind the mask is some help but real change only happens at the level of felt experience. That poignant moment of connecting the adult me with my child through those raw emotions today, lets me see where my locked up power has been lurking. It was there all the time. As S helpfully pointed out to me, it may not now take much to return it to its rightful place, so I can stand as Shiva in all my power and vulnerability as a man, enriched with the sacred masculine.

    I write this holding the tension between my fear of change and my deep longing for healing and wholeness. Can I give up my safety and risk ‘exposure’ in order to feel alive and free? Am I willing to feel the pain of that small boy and the grief for my lost years, in order to lead a whole-hearted life again?
    Can I trust the strength of this Shiva warrior who is emerging and offering me a new stance on life in service of me? My champion warrior …..who is he?

    If you bring forth that which is within you,
    then that which is within you
    Will be your salvation.
    If you do not bring forth
    that which is within you,
    then that which is within you
    Will destroy you.

    -The Gnostic Gospels