Credit: Facebook Ottumwa Police Department
One weekday evening around 10:00 I was exiting what we called The Legal Services Annex, also known as the Owl’s Nest Bar and Grill. As I left I heard shouting coming from the cab of a beat-up pickup truck in the parking lot. The streetlights silhouetted a figure who appeared to be pounding away on another figure. I ran over to the passenger side door, pulled it open, and a couple tumbled out.
A very pissed off man was holding a weeping woman by the hair with his left hand, and he cocked his right arm to deliver a knockout punch to me.
From my mouth I heard these words spring forth, “If I were you, I wouldn’t punch an off-duty police officer!”
A sound piece of advice if I ever heard one, although it had absolutely nothing to do with the present situation, but it did cause Bruiser to stop and think.
“I just want to know what the hell is going on here!” I yelled.
Years of frustration interviewing abused women, days in court listening to wrongheaded brutes tell the judge, “Nobody can tell me what I can do to my wife!” all those emotions just boiled over and I kept shouting, “I just want to know what the hell is going on here!”
The woman kept weeping, Bruiser kept jerking her around as he feigned throwing a punch at me, and then a police car pulled up. Two officers jumped out, and when Bruiser snarled at them, one took out his night stick and the other told me to shut up.
“I just want to know what the hell is going on here,” I told him.
“We all do, sir. But we can handle this now, go home.”
I reluctantly walked home, muttering to myself, ‘I just wanted to know what the hell was going on around here!’
The next morning, I read in the Ottumwa Courier’s ‘Crime Blotter’ that a man had been arrested in the parking lot of the Owl’s Nest and he had been charged with domestic violence, resisting arrest, and that he was being treated at the hospital for his injuries.
I don’t condone police violence, but I must admit I wasn’t complaining that this brute got his ass kicked.
I am eager to return to leading the Domestic Violence Group, but was promptly fired.
As I mentioned in earlier posts, back in 1978 we built the first state-wide domestic violence project when I put together a group of advocates to convince the lawyers in each of the other offices to accept domestic violence cases. Most of the people in our group were angry paralegals who had decided enough was enough when it came to men in Iowa beating up women.
Our group accomplished great things in short order, getting all offices onboard, and helping educate the judges, court administrators, and local police on how to handle these cases which were on a ‘rocket docket’ that went from filing the first papers to a final hearing in a matter of days.
When I returned to Iowa after my year in the Caribbean and took the job in Ottumwa I contacted my old group and told them I was ready to step back into my role as leader. They had other ideas. I was informed politely, but firmly, that they appreciated everything I had done in initiating the project, but they had decided that a project addressing violence against women should be led by a woman. It reminded me of the vernacular used by judges dismissing potential jurors, “We would like to thank, and excuse Juror #1.”‘ In short, my services would no longer be needed by the group.
I will admit that hurt my feelings at first. But over time, as a feminist, I recognized that in this period in the early 1980s, as women were fighting to assert more control over their lives, it was appropriate for me to gracefully step aside. No hard feelings.
Violence against women as a issue for men. Fortunately, as time has moved on, more and more men are recognizing that violence against women and rape are men’s issues, that more men must step up and take responsibility for the actions of other violent men. Back in the ’80s the attitude seemed to be, ‘Don’t look at me, I wouldn’t think of hurting a woman, and I’m not responsible for those jackasses.’
Today there is more recognition that as men, we are responsible for the actions of other men, and in particular, we are responsible for raising our sons and other young men to respect women and to recognize that there is no excuse for violence against others.
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10 things Men can do to end violence against women
Break out of the MAN BOX. Challenge traditional images of manhood that keep men from taking a stand.
ASK HOW you can help if you suspect abuse or an assault. If you are abusing others in any way, stop and seek professional help.
NO MEANS NO. Teach your children that ‘No’ means ‘No’ and that ‘Stop‘ means ‘Stop.’
DON’T BUY the argument that sexual and domestic violence are due to mental illness, lack of anger management skills, chemical dependency, stress, or other excuses.
STAND UP & SPEAK OUT Being a silent bystander affirms sexual harassment and domestic violence.
LOOK IN THE MIRROR. Do your own attitudes and actions contribute to the objectification and devaluing of women and girls?
BE A MODEL FOR YOUTH. Mentor a boy. Teach boys with your words and actions that being a man means respecting women.
EDUCATE YOURSELF. Listen to and learn from women. Attend programs and events like the GADY Men’s Tailgate and learn how to end domestic violence and human trafficking.
STEP UP TO CREATE A CULTURE SHIFT that doesn’t tolerate disrespecting women.
MAKE THIS A MEN’S ISSUE.
HOST an online discussion for work, school, church, service club, or sports team. CALL 239-775-3862 to schedule a speaker.
Naplesshelter.org/gadv
A postscript about domestic violence and my refusal to use the expression, “my wife.”
Rebecka and I have been married for 36 years as I write this on the last day of March 2024, when I refer to her I do so like this, ‘Rebecka with whom I am married.’ This convoluted syntax always leaves people looking puzzled – are you married? Separated? What the hell?
When I am introducing her, it usually goes like this, “I would like you to meet Rebecka, with whom I am married.” Rebecka usually accompanies her handshake with the explanation, “I’m his wife, he just refuses to use the term, ‘My wife.’ It’s a long story, please don’t ask.”
Well, the story, and it’s not that long, Rebecka, is that four years of hearing abusers telling the judge in court that they have the right to beat ‘my wife’ ruined that phrase for me. It’s not the word ‘wife’ that offends me, it’s the possessiveness implied in the ‘my.’ And now you know the origin of my awkward phrase, ‘Rebecka with whom I am married.’
I’m happy to be married with Rebecka, it’s the luckiest thing that ever happened to me, but she in no way belongs to me. She is not “my” anything, although she is my everything.
One of the first pictures of Rebecka and I in 1983.
Out for Justice 
Truly excellent article.
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Thank you
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