Guest Post by Chelan Rene’ Russ
When he was little, Ricky battled with what he thought was a series of bad dreams. They would send him into a state of panic. But there was no way he could fight them because he was still asleep. See, they weren’t bad dreams after all. They were actually night terrors.
As he got older, they became more frequent. He married his high school crush and she became instantly aware during those nights, of how he felt attacked. They’d laugh over coffee the next morning, about how he grabbed all the sheets off the bed and paced, breathless, looking for an exit for ten minutes. Other nights, she’d roll onto her side and ask, “what were you choking on this time?” He’d give her an uncomfortable smile and reply with some random object…a needle, a lightbulb, a drinking glass. How ridiculous. But how real it seemed to him in the moment. If only he could fight back the fear in that dreamlike state.
It became a familiar battle against this evil. The terrors would attack without warning and be met with little to no resistance. How unfortunate and a bit embarrassing, I suppose, to be a man and not be able use your God-given ability to fight against fear and evil.
There’s a battle raging that men need to fight in. But they are fighting for another’s freedom, not their own. Thousands of girls are the casualties. They’re fighters, and yes, I’ve met some. But they have only earned that title because a man didn’t fight for them when they needed it most. Those men — their daddies, stepdads, big brothers – were locked away in their own state of self-induced sleep…lulled by a myriad of addictions to mind-numbing substances, porn, denial, work.
Those men, expected to protect her, lost the presence of mind and in many cases even the conviction to fight. Slowly choked out was their ability to discern her worth. And so regardless of the reason, they were not present to fight for her. But what is a man if not a fighter for good? He is as helpless as he is useless.
I spoke with a girl today who longed for that man’s presence as a child. When fair-skinned “Lyla” was five, her daycare provider’s son stole her innocence for a moment of his selfish pleasure. The moments as such recurred in various forms: drugged in a club, exploited on a sidewalk, even restrained on motel sheets by a serial rapist. Her worth felt like a slow drain. Would any man ever treat her with dignity? No matter how she mined for ways, Lyla knew no way out. Her flight or fight instincts took over. And since there was no other man who’d honored her enough to fight for her, she would give it her best shot. It never really sufficed.
“You daydream about it,” She admitted. “You need a hero. You you need someone who is bigger and stronger than you. Someone of the same gender as those who hurt you… but who instead, redeems it all.” The sincerity from her wounds seems to speak, “Wake UP! I know the evil is ugly and it is painful, but please, wake up. Tell us we’re worth fighting for and get up…and do it. Fight for me because they never could. Or never would.” And she whispers, “Give me hope again.”
Chelan Rene’ Russ is an avid abolitionist, wife, mother, and blogger who lives in Portland, OR with her husband and 2 children. Visit her personal blog here.
