This is not exactly a lighthearted story like Ye Olden Days #1, but a series of events which has had a profound impression on me nonetheless.
One evening during the harvest festival, I went with a group of friends to a park where bbqs and celebrations were occurring for the holiday.
As often happens in a group outing, there is a variety of people, some who know each other and get along better than others as people bring friends, and they bring friends etc from different walks of life. In this case, a friend of my then boyfriend attended,with whom I had a mutually disagreeable relationship. My distaste for this individual arose from him being an unemployed alcoholic who rarely showered and was generally rude. His distaste for me arose from me being white (he was fairly misogynistic in general, but the hatred intensified for certain racial groups, namely caucasians- probably due to deep seated mummy issues... but I digress).
Whenever he and I were both in a group, it inevitably involved some tension, but I didn't assume it to be any different to many situations where you tolerate someone for the benefit of others- you ignore each other, while having fantasies in your head about them being hit by a bus. On occassion, when he was being truly disgusting towards a girlfriend/ woman I would say exactly that- that his behaviour was revolting.
This night he left the group for a while, presumably to find a toilet/ tree. When he returned, he came up behind me while I was sitting at the table with the rest of the group, and put me in a head lock. At first I thought he was messing around or trying to be funny, as did the others, and so I just told him to piss off.
He didn't release me, but after hesitating for a moment, he tightened his hold and also locked his other hand around my throat, pulling me off the bench backwards, onto the ground.
I couldn't speak, scream or do much at all. I tried to bite or kick him, and was unable to hit him effectively as he was behind me. Its terrifying to be that helpless, and it all happened so fast.
The rest of the group didn't realise what was happening for a moment either. My boyfriend even thought it was just fun and games and was laughing, not realising the seriousness of the situation. It was one of the other guys who jumped in and pulled Ben off me and punched him in the face. But what I am most troubled about was the next sequence of events.
My boyfriend went to Ben's assistance, to see if he was okay. Now I'm a feminist, and I don't advocate violence, but I would have thought that if someone, regardless of how good of a friend they were, had just strangled your partner, you would be doing something other than helping them.
He helped Ben get a taxi and sent him home.
Over the next few days I asked why he helped Ben, and phrases included:
"he's just got big issues"
"you were fine anyway, so it doesn't matter"
and I was encouraged to think that I was being unreasonable.
The worst part? I started believing it too. I felt guilty for wanting to kick Ben in the balls for what he did to me. I forgave my boyfriend for not helping or defending me.
The realisation is quite amazing now- that I had absolutely no self respect whatsoever; that I would apologise for feeling malice toward someone who strangled me. That I believed my own worth was so non-existent that I shouldn't have a right to expect a partner to help me, even when I was in danger of being seriously hurt.
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