To the Man Who Put His Hands On My Best Friend
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To the Man Who Put His Hands On My Best Friend

Relationship violence is a serious issue, and it's time we start addressing it.

To the Man Who Put His Hands On My Best Friend

Dear self-proclaimed "Man,"

You seem a little confused, so I thought I would help you out. 

Most cultures recognize maturity somewhere between the years of 15 to 18 years old. It is at this point that, as is historically proven, society likes to believe that you, self-proclaimed adult, can handle yourself in a way that is both legal and acceptable by recognized societal standards. Don’t understand why I’m telling you this? Allow me to remind you.  

Last week, you hit my best friend. I watched through a glass doorframe as you grabbed her wrists and shook her. I heard you scream so loudly that your words blurred incoherently. I felt her body hit the floor when you struck the side of her face. I sat with her, listening to her cry over headaches that weren’t her fault and bruises that won’t seem to go away.   

Now, in the aftermath of your anger, I think about you. I think about how, at 34 years old, you must have known better. Adulthood can be a funny thing. You seem to have trouble with the concept, so I thought I would break it down for you a little more.   

My father taught me what being a man is all about. He taught me that a man’s rough hands don’t come from grazing a woman’s cheek, but rather from the dedication that honed useful talents into skillful craft. He taught me that a man is not most powerful when he stands over a woman but rather when he stands next to her, recognizing that her equality is paramount to her womanhood. He taught me that a man, regardless of how angry he finds himself, never stoops to childish actions but rather appreciates his opponent for the fighter he or she may be, and chooses soft words over hard blows.    

He taught me that you are the antithesis of a man.   

Now let me tell you what I am going to teach her.   

I will teach her that you are nothing more than a coward. I will teach her that you, in your weakness, choose your fists over your wits. I will teach her that you, in all of your boyish glory, will never be the one thing that she desires most: a man.   

Then I will watch as she walks away from you. I will watch her grow. I will watch her be strong. And I will hope that you, in your misappropriated strength, will remember the woman that raised you the next time you think about laying your hands on someone who may raise your own children one day. I hope that you will think about how heavy your own daughter’s tears would feel on your t-shirt if another boy’s blows caused them. I hope that you will feel sorrow for the pain that will forever lie on your floor from that Wednesday night when you decided your brute strength was the only tool that you had against a woman who wanted nothing more than to love you. And I hope you never, ever get the joy of seeing her smile again, because it is the last thing on earth that you will ever deserve.  

--A Woman 

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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