Victimology

“Have you given any more thought to the idea of being a victim?” my husband asks.

Said Husband and I have been deeply, heavily, excruciatingly wrapped in a series of conversations, arguments and debates about the state of our union—and muddled if sincere attempts to improve it. We haven’t broken much ground. In part, probably, because when we ask each other such questions, the response tends to be visceral and defensive and angry. How dare he ask me if I’ve thought about being a victim? Has HE thought about being a victim?

The reality is that I have thought about it. Been thinking about it. (Evidenced, in part, by the creation of the blog you’re reading.) But the whole victim thing is slippery. When you are talking about a relationship between two people, it’s hard to parse victimhood. Each person plays a part in whatever is going on. Blame is very easy to mis-place. And when you are one of the people in that relationship, it’s easy to slip into the self-righteous role of victim. For some of us, martyrdom is easiest on the ego.

What makes you a victim, then? Even if you have been assaulted or disrespected or hurt in some way, what of that did you invite or allow or provoke? Wait. Stop. Invite or provoke is too loaded. We don’t say that a woman who has been raped “provoked” it by her attire or behavior. We wouldn’t justify someone’s assault of another person by using the excuse that, “She just made me so mad I had to hit her.” AND…. And, if we’re honest, we know that there are the masochistic among us who do actually try to provoke ill-treatment. Okay, so erase invite and provoke. Too much to contend with here. But let’s deal with allow.

Allowing something to happen that is hurtful or wrong, falls in that also slippery concept of the-lines-that-must-not-be-crossed. We all have these boundaries. (Some of us set them far from us and guard them too fiercely; others make weak, wobbly fences that we guard not fiercely enough.) And these boundaries will be approached and possibly breached, somewhere, somehow. The issue, then, is how we respond. What we do. How quickly we do it. How well we assess the damage and how we repair the breach. And—here’s where the victim thing comes in: How do we think of ourselves and the other person and the situation afterward?

What keeps us in victim mode: If we continue to focus on “how dare you?” If we keep looking at and lamenting the hole in the wall without doing anything to address it. Or if we mix up tons of quick-dry cement and build a higher, thicker, more impenetrable wall–where nothing can get in, but nothing can get out, either. (Yeah, it’s smart to fix your fence—but it needs to be one that you can see—and see your way—out of.)

A less victimized way of thinking is, “Why did that person think he should approach me this way? Are my boundaries clearly defined? What sign can I erect to indicate that my borders are not to be breached? How do I plan to respond if the breach is attempted again?

One of my computer dictionary definitions of victim is “someone who experiences misfortune and feels helpless to do anything about it.” For me, victimhood lies not in the misfortune, but in that feeling of helplessness. But I like to believe helplessness is only that—a feeling. Ultimately, we are never truly without help. We possess resources. We can gather information and support. There are hands outstretched. There is Spirit guiding us. And, most importantly, we have the strength of our own will, wisdom and motherwit. When we know that and when we own it, victimhood is out of the question.