The events I’m about to recite took place 6 years ago, but even though someone might say they don’t matter anymore, I believe they do. The fact that I didn’t have the tools and the emotional strength to write about them while they were happening is not something I blame myself for. I believe that everyone has the right to make their abuse and experiences public (if they want to) at the time and in the circumstances they choose.
Six years ago I was 19 and new in the anarchist “scene”. I’m a woman and at the time my romantic relationships were with men. When I met G I was “around” the anarchist scene and like many people when they start being politically active, I was feeling insecure and inadequate about my knowledge and lack of experience in the movement, so I had only been in open assemblies and events and only on occasion. G introduced me to the scene let’s say, he introduced me to people and took me to squats when the meetings took place, not just the events. I was so excited about everything, I was even regularly going to squats far from my home. I was feeling grateful cause thanks to him I got to know people that I was admiring from afar (hearing them talking at the assemblies etc) and I started participating in groups that interested me a lot and in the creation of squats. I liked being part of the movement, even though I still felt inadequate: I hadn’t read as much as the comrades* had, I hadn’t thrown a single rock in my life (still haven’t), and I was mostly scared in the demonstrations. It was hard for me to talk in the meetings and I believed that what I swas saying or thinking were worthless. I couldn’t understand everything. I was scared of the cops.
My relationship with G became at some point a “real” relationship, one of those that are romantic, sexual and monogamous. We were at the time both participating in two anarchist groups. G started being abusive. (I can say that now, since I didn’t have the tools to acknowledge that back then) He was jealous, possessive, he was emotionally manipulating me, he was controlling with whom I’d spend my time or go out, he was sexually, verbally and sometimes physically abusing me, he made me feel worthless, that anything that makes me happy (my studies, my friends etc) was unimportant, he had destroyed personal belongings of mine and was constantly controlling me. All that had happened in front of friends and comrades* as well, and generally their reaction was “come on man you’re overreacting now” but that was it. Some of them had also talked to me privately to tell me, come on, you know how G is, he has his problems but he’s a nice guy, be patient with him cause when he’s with you he’s doing better. I had undertaken without realizing or wanting it, the responsibility that this man would be “better” with huge impact on my own emotional health. I had undertaken without, of course, any payment (something that many people in the spectrum of femininity do) the psychological support of a person, like I owed him anything, and the result was me being a wreck. I was feeling guilty about anything good that was happening to me, my studies that unlike his was something that I liked, my home that was near the center while his was far away, the fact that I’d go on holidays with friends while he wouldn’t, and I was kept away from anything that was giving me joy. Our comrades* were seeing all that but were considering it personal.
When I found the strength to break up with him he would stalk me and would demand that we talked anytime he would find me alone. I wasn’t feeling safe in my neighborhood because I was constantly afraid he’d be somewhere around. One day he came to one of our group’s meetings and demanded (while I was there) that I was kicked out from the group. He was talking shit about me, saying that he can’t trust me politically and that, after all, he brought me there. That I’m stupid and know nothing about anarchy. He was shouting and I was freaking out. I ended up storming out of the room crying. Our comrades* didn’t take his side but didn’t take mine either. They said they didn’t want any of us to leave. They were trying to calm us down and make us make up again. They fatherly scolded G, telling him that he cannot accuse someone just because she broke up with him and they said they wouldn’t kick me out. That wasn’t enough. Nobody kicked G out, nobody told him this behavior is not acceptable in that place. While I was unable to defend myself and was outside of the room freaking out, only one person came to see if I was ok. G, angry that his comrades didn’t take his side, didn’t come back to the group. I considered that a victory, even though I was falling apart. The comrades* though, continued to hang out with him, go out with him, they were even trying to bring us back together or justify his behavior to me. A while later I left the group as well.
I don’t believe that this is an isolated incident, nor do I believe that in another similar political group the reactions or the outcome would be different. The fact that now I’m well, in romantic, sexual or friendly relationships that are not abusive, that this is something I won’t let happen to me again, that I feel stronger and more secure, is not something that I owe to my comrades*, the scene or the movement. I owe it only to myself, my friends, the people that are close to me, my therapist, the feminist groups that I was afterwards part in, to lot of talk, time, and personal work. I don’t believe in the greek anarchist “scene” and I don’t want anything to do with it. It’s full of racism, sexism and hierarchies. It’s a place that is safe only for greek men, macho, straight, with lots of books read and high in the social hierarchy. Where a person like me feels she owes them for being there. That it’s her responsibility to be more heard, to be taken more seriously, to be braver on the street, to dress correctly and like the right things and not the things that make her shallow. So I’m not waiting for this scene to change.
I write this text and I don’t know why I do. I won’t be the one to say how similar things should be handled in political spaces, how to care for survivors or how to call out abusers, even when they’re our friends or comrades, it’s the groups’ and persons’ responsibility to do their research and communal and personal work on that. What happened is part of me but it doesn’t define me anymore. I’m still angry, I’m disappointed and hurt. I didn’t deserve that and no one does. it wasn’t my responsibility. I feel such rage for this person and for everyone who let him and helped him have this behavior. I mostly feel fear and helplessness about the women who are or will be in relationships with him in the future. I hope they’ll be stronger than me, that they’ll realize the abuse sooner and that they’ll have a better support network than I did. I hope they’ll be well. The only thing I can do is to warn anyone I know about this person. And this text.
*I use the word ironically. I don’t believe in comrades.
Rhus Tox
9/7/16-far away