Man...I Feel Like a Woman

I read a particularly disturbing article in the newspaper this morning about a woman who was stabbed 17 times by her boyfriend. Remarkably, she survived. The man was apprehended and taken into custody and he admitted to being guilty of the crime. However, the subject of the article was not about how tough of a sentence the man received. It was about how scared she is right now because he is being released. Yes, that is correct. He is being released, on the condition that he is prohibited from going near her. He stabbed her 17 times and he is being let go. It is like a restraining order based on the honor system. I can't imagine how terrified she must be. Even in the United States, restraining orders are not much of a deterrent. If someone decides to ignore the restraining order and comes to your house anyway, you still have to call the police, and the police still have to come before you get hurt, or get killed. I thought about her all day, about how she could possibly come away from this experience thinking that her life has any value. If it wasn't enough for her partner to be abusing her, mentally and physically, telling her she is nothing, will never amount to anything, how about the reality sinking in that society does not value your life either because the law won't even punish the person who violently tried to take it.

For this reason, when I sat in my orientation tonight at the Universidad Nacional in Heredia, Costa Rica, the importance and urgency of my program hit home in a big way. The director explained to us that this Master's program in Family Violence with a focus on Gender is not just the first of its kind in Costa Rica, or even in all of Central America, but in all of Latin America. My mind immediately flashed back to all of the instances where I had to evaluate an article or situation with a "gender lens", how is was an integral part of my coursework as an interdisciplinary studies major at Miami University. I thought about how commonplace it is that every university in the States has a women's studies department, how most universities offer a variety of classes that examine women's movements across the globe, how at times even I, as a woman, grew tired of talking about gender in certain moments in my undergraduate career. I thought about how domestic violence shelters are in Austin alone (which are nowhere near enough to tackle the staggering amount of violence that occurs daily) suddenly seemed plentiful in comparison to what exists in Costa Rica. Today, as I sat in the auditorium listening to the director explain the importance of studying gender, studying feminist theory, of understanding and evaluating the overwhelming phenomenon of violence against women, my mind kept racing back to the photograph of the women in her hospital bed. I thought about how she looks more like a quilt than a woman because she is so full of stitches, who will forever have scars on every limb of her body (including her face), and who will never, ever feel safe again for as long as she is alive. This is what happens when we don't talk about gender, when we don't pay attention to violence. I felt an incredible sense of pride to be here, to be part of a process that is just beginning. I have not once doubted my decision to study Family Violence here in Costa Rica, but nonetheless during this orientation I felt my educational, professional, and personal goals solidify. It was almost as if I felt myself solidify, as if I was being infused with an acute sense of readiness and willingness to accept a challenge. I am ready to be transformed by this experience, and I am so grateful for the opportunity to do so.