Help End Sexual Violence in YOUR Community: DEFEND

It’s still April for another week so let’s talk about a THIRD way we can help fight sexual violence where we live and work and play!
Defend!
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This might seem like an oversimplification. After all, we think, if I actually SAW someone being assaulted or harassed, I would do something about it. Right?
Studies show that this is not always the case. Bystander effect is essentially what happens when a large group of people witnesses someone in trouble and does nothing about it because a) no one else is or b) they assume someone else is.
Most of us, I think, would probably try to say or do something if we saw a woman attacked on the street. Hopefully, that’s a no-brainer. But what about those more ambiguous situations? What about the girl at the party who seems like she’s had a little too much to drink to be leaving with that guy? What about the loud shouting coming from a couple arguing in the parking lot outside of your apartment? And what about that woman at work who looks incredibly uncomfortable when the guys in the next cubicle start loudly comparing personal sexual experiences? Would we do something then? Or would we say, “That’s not my business.” “I shouldn’t get involved.” “If she’s uncomfortable, she’ll say so.”

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And defense isn’t just about defending OTHERS, it’s also about defending ourselves.
Here are some easy ways to defend the vulnerable:
- If dirty jokes or sexually aggressive language is being thrown around the office, say something. Don’t wait for someone else to speak up. If you felt uncomfortable, even for a second, chances are someone else did, too.
- If you’re concerned about someone’s personal safety, do something. If you’re not sure it’s safe to intervene directly, don’t step in yourself. Call security, call 9-1-1, ask another passerby for help. I’ve heard campus police use the expression: “When in doubt, call us out.” Pay attention to your instincts.
- Learn self-defense. Take a class (they’re often offered through community centers, gyms, martial arts studios, and college campuses). The key word, again, is defense. This isn’t about taking on predators in dangerous situations. It’s about knowing how to use your own body (your greatest weapon) to protect yourself and others in peril. Be aware of your surroundings. Lock your car doors. Walk with purpose and confidence.
-Demand that people treat your personal space with respect and care – if someone gets a little too close (ex: at the bus stop, waiting in line, on the sidewalk, or at a party), tell them to give you room. Don’t let the fear of offending someone keep you from feeling safe – a predator will test your boundaries by encroaching on your personal space and a good person won’t be offended if you ask them to give you room.

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As always, thanks for taking the time to read and empower yourselves as men and women to make an impact on YOUR world! Stay tuned for Part 4 of Ending Sexual Violence in Your Community!
Love, Elizabeth

Playing Defense: Why Broomball Has Everything to Do With Marriage

I'm certain that when most of you think of me, Elizabeth, certain words come to your mind. Wife. Scholar. Actress. Lover of bad 90's music. Writer. Athlete. Wait, what? Big shocker here, I am not athletic. I am the opposite of athletic. I am Non-Sporty Spice. If there was a contest for most UN-athletic/team sport person in the mid-atlantic states, I would win. (Wait, who am I kidding? I'd lose that, too. THAT'S how bad I am at competitive sports.)

No, no, that would be Kyle, the skinny, scrappy, both-fists-swinging Irishman I married. He's the athlete. The coordinated, muscular one who leaps into any competitive fray like a gangly leprechaun on fire? That guy.

So when our young married's group at church announced that they would be forming a team for broomball night at the local ice rink, my immediate thought was, Great. Another activity I'll look stupid doing.

But in the spirit of our marriage (and our blog), I decided to be brave and give broomball a shot. After all, what's more adventurous than me, armed only with half a broom and a sweaty, broken helmet trying to maneuver a ball on solid ice? Um, nothing, that's what!
For those of you unfamiliar with the rules, broomball = ice hockey in sneakers +  broomsticks (- bristles).

So imagine my surprise (and Kyle's) when I actually turned out to be GOOD at broomball. Now granted, I have zero aim, depth perception, or balance. But I have HEART. That's right. Me and the Mighty Ducks. We believe in ourselves.

It turns out I kind of love playing defense. Maybe it stems from my secret love of getting in people's way. I found myself becoming more aware of the weaknesses in my team. I could see a clear shot to the goal and move to block it. I could see Kyle fall and rush to back him up when he lost the ball.

And Kyle...well, Kyle was awesome. Dashing across the rink, throwing himself in front of the goal, colliding with half of the other team, body-checking/smacking himself into the ice/wall/goal posts like it was some kind of medical need. There was no hesitation in him, no moment of wondering if what he was about to do might really, really hurt. Just a sense of complete abandon in the game.

And leave it to me, naturally, to start to see broomball as yet another metaphor for marriage. As I watched our team (made up of 3 couples from our small group) play five rounds, I was so struck by the sense of watchfulness I felt from them. Every time someone slipped or fell or made a good shot or blocked something, there was a response. One husband cheering on his wife when she intercepted the ball, a wife making a sympathetic noise when her husband ran face-first into the glass.

Of course, all good teams know these things. They cheer on their teammates. They worry about them. They defend them.

But there was something special about watching newly-weds and other young couples fighting for each other in a very physical, real way.

I hope that Kyle and I can model in our relationship what we were able to do playing broomball. That Kyle will literally throw himself in front of the ball, as selfless as I already know him to be. That I will be as mindful, careful, observant of the ways in which Kyle needs me to defend him when he is down.

Now it's probably important to note that we, uh, totally LOST broomball tonight. We didn't win a single game. Even the high school freshmen girls won ONCE. Not us.

But I guess that's not really the point. If you think about it, we probably "lose" more often than we win, when it comes to all the stuff thrown at us in life. What really matters is, was I a good teammate? Someone Kyle could count on when that big, scary dude who clearly plays college hockey is barrelling toward him and the ball or when he started bleeding after a bad fall or that second where he lost his balance and skidded across the ice? Was I there? Was I paying attention?

Kyle's thoughts: I loved that even though we were losing...making mistakes...falling down...it was still fun because we were with the people we love. There was also a sense of pride in defending our spouses on the ice. Kind of romantic. I mean, I knew if no one else on the ice had my back, then Elizabeth did.

So here we are...home safe, tired, and sore. The wounds have been doused in hydrogen peroxide. The ibuprofen has been administered. The stiffness has set in.

Tonight I feel renewed in my desire to fight for Kyle, with Kyle. Broomball was a fun, sweaty reminder of that thing I forget so often...that we can lose a battle and still win the war.