Years ago, in the midst of an ugly teenage break up (you know the type) I was saying nasty things about my ex (in the time honoured tradition of I never liked him anyway) and my mother stopped me.
"You dated him", she said. "In fact, you spent two years of your life with him. And what you say about him reflects on you. When you say that he was a jerk, or horrible or dumb, you say that you were in love with a jerkish, thugish idiot, for 2 years. Is that what you intend to believe about yourself? Is that what you want others to think about you?"
Ugh, mothers, huh?
Go, watch a few commercials. Read a book or 2. Men are dumb. Male stupidity is the new black. They can't dress themselves, they can't organize things, left to their own devices, they would burn the house down, subsisting on a diet of lard and beer. Men need women because they are too stupid to live on their own.
Don't believe me? Think I'm exaggerating? I was listening to the radio last week, and the woman announcer commented that her husband was "dead lazy". No really, those were her words. 200,000 thousand people listened to this woman insult her husband. I wonder how he felt. . .
Now, imagine if the male DJ had told the city of Edmonton that his wife was "dead lazy"? I don't think the guy would have a job by the end of his shift. Dare I say it, but women are terrible for saying things like this, and some how it's ok. It's ok to insult your husband, tell your girlfriends that he's stupid, can't manage the kids, can't manage money, can't dress himself. It's good sport to insult men.
It's not ok for a man to hit a woman, but it's ok for women to rain down insults that wound in ways not leaving a bruise. And that's wrong. Abuse with words is just as surely abuse. Public humiliation, whether you intend it to be funny or not, is wrong. And I'm sorry, I don't care whether you hit with your fists or your words, abuse is abuse.
I have to confess, this is one of the reasons I stay far, far away from Women's ministries. Women there are either complaining about their husbands or their kids, or both. And maybe it's just me, but I don't have a husband to complain about. Oh, Mr. Spit isn't perfect. He's not. (Maybe you've noticed, neither am I)
So, could I just say this today. . .
Words hurt. They cut both ways. And at least some of us will look at what you say about your partner and wonder about you.