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The challenge becomes with what language can we convey such personal violence, with what words bear its experience, spawn a communal speech towards its eradication. This is neither to laud resorting to the bleak alienation of confession, nor to draw on the amputation of abstraction, but rather is a bid to somehow forestall the loss of what is daily and abrupt to the static endurance of an aesthetic. How to root acknowledgment, faculty, accountability and action, without hunting some twin pain in the Other — in the case of the text, the reader, that person whose heart and agency it works to engage. How to source empathy [not conflation] in light of the fact that we as general publics still do not know how to engage with our closed doors, behind which 1 in 3 women around the world are or will be affected by domestic violence in their life-time. Among 16-43 year old women in Europe this violence is the leading cause of death, is not inclusive of those acts staged, civic, on our streets. Still we re-phrase, cloak ourselves in autonomy, back-roomed, capitulate to a corral of private expression that by default rebuffs its norm, our usual suffering.
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