International Women's Day And A Personal Story of the Affects of Spousal Abuse

Tomorrow is International Women’s Day.

So that I don't bury my lede, this post is about spousal abuse and, more specifically, how my father hit my mother.

I was born in the 60s. My parents were young—my mom, 25, my dad, 22, when I came out kicking and screaming. I only did the math recently and realized my mom was pregnant when she walked down the aisle. Can you say, shotgun?

My dad was not ready to be a father—hell, he was only a kid himself. He wanted to party.

I should take a step back and say my dad passed away several years ago. I loved him, but he was not my hero.

Sad to say, but just the facts.

He was an alcoholic at the time of his death and very likely one at 22 when I was born.

My dad also liked to gamble and my mom frequently mentioned he would gamble away his paycheque before the groceries were paid for. My mom’s overarching focus in life was to make sure her kids were well-fed and well taken care of. You can imagine the gambling-thing led to a lot of tension and fights.

My parents split up for the final time when I was seven. From there my mom, who is an incredible woman, raised two boys as a single mom and both of us turned out to be lawyers (don’t hold that against us). I can’t tell you how much I respect my mom for the sacrifices she made.

Here’s the nub of this post. My dad hit my mom. She said one time he punched her so hard she saw stars…

We can say, it was the 70s, a different time. But, that doesn’t change the fact that the man she loved, the one who was supposed to be her partner in life, hit her. That doesn’t change the fact that the father I loved hit the mother I love.

I never saw it, but it happened. And I believe my mother, who’s probably reading this post (because she reads all my posts), is still suffering from that trauma today. She won’t admit it, but how could she not have post traumatic stress from being hit by her husband?

I’m going to try to do the weave here and bring a few concepts together.

As a lawyer, I focus a lot on data security and privacy. We spend an inordinate amount of time and money protecting personal health information. Sometimes, I just go, why?

I believe the answer is shame…and a shame culture.

What is personal health information? At its most benign, it’s your blood pressure reading. At it most shameful, it’s you’ve been treated for syphilis fourteen times (you slut). It’s that you’ve been seeing a psychologist for ten years (you must be sick in the head, unreliable). It’s that you had an abortion. It’s that you’re on methadone. You’re a drug addict.

Maybe if we stop shaming these things, we’d realize we don’t really need to spend all the time and money to shield personal health information from prying eyes.

Weaving back to my parents. As I said, it was the 70s, a different time, right? Husbands had to make sure their wives understood their place. The world is different now, right?

Apparently, not.

Apparently 1 in 3 women in Canada will experience physical or sexual violence during their lifetime. I bet that’s underreported. Nearly 80% of police-reported intimate partner violence victims are women. It is particularly prevalent in the Indigenous community.

In 2025, gender-based violence is still cooking along.

Do I want to tell the world that my dad hit my mom? No. Have I ever disclosed this publicly before? No. Is this something even some of my closest friends don’t know? Yes. Do I feel shame? Yes.

I hesitated to post this for only one reason. I didn’t ask my mom’s permission to disclose painful personal details about her past. But, this is as much my story and it has shaped me. And, if she is angry at me, the only reason why is because she has shame over something that wasn’t her fault. She’s a small woman. My dad was a huge man. We lived in a tiny apartment. He was a mean drunk and unavoidable. I can only imagine how shitty that was for my mom.

When Dad hit you, Mom, it wasn’t your fault. It was his. Period. Full stop. If you feel angry at me for writing this post, I’m sorry and I love you.

But, I want the world to live in the light.

We have to get past this shame culture that keeps people from speaking out and seeking help. Gender-based violence, drug addiction, mental health, women’s reproductive health, they need to come all the way out of the shadows.

We need to talk frankly about these things, without judgement, without shame, in order to make this a world of true equality.

I’m ready. Are you?

Happy International Women’s Day.