Confronting Violence

“We can learn to feel the anger that belongs with the experience of injustice and evil and find other ways to express it.” - Jane Vennard, Embracing the World: Praying for Justice and Peace

I avoid looking at the DVD, “The Hurt Locker,” which came from Netflix a few days ago. I placed it first on the TV stand, then off to the side where I could not see it, then back on the other side of the stand, the side farthest away from where I usually sit. I agreed that we should place it in our queue because I heard great things about the film and admire the director, the first woman to win an Oscar for directing. It addresses a situation that I should understand, that I should be made to confront. After all, there are men and women fighting in Iraq just so I can have the privilege of deciding whether or not I want to watch. But I find it painful to watch violence on TV, or read about it in the paper, and I have to be in a strong, brave mood in order to put such a DVD in the player and press the “play” button.

This aversion I have to violence includes the Nerf guns that my children love. I don’t think that playing with Nerf guns makes a child “bad” or violent, but I just don’t like to hear one say “You’re dead” to the other. I can’t stomach that possibility. I let the guns out on special occasions, then carefully collect all the shiny orange Nerf bullets under the cover of bedtime darkness and hide the weapons and the ammo until the next occasion.

What troubles me the most is the violence inside me, the anger that bubbles up when I am exhausted and my child screams in my face or hurts a sibling and then laughs maniacally. These occasions aren’t frequent, but they're not an aberration. My true self has a violent side. Fortunately for me I’ve been raised with every material and emotional advantage. The absence of hunger, fear, and extreme stress gives me the resources to turn aside the violence or mutate it into screaming “Aghhh!” at the top of my lungs, or slamming my bedroom door shut as I give myself a timeout, or throwing something out of the open door. But I hate that it’s there. I feel a “heightened security alert” against myself whenever my temper flares up, and feel like a code orange has been leveled against me by the supreme authorities.

Recently I have been reading spiritual books, which used to turn me off but now appeal to me. In my current book, Embracing the World: Praying for Justice and Peace, Jane Vennard quotes a poem by one of her students, named Marie. It says:

“I know that when I deny and repress my shadow
I project onto others
And become violent against them.”

I feel this to be true. If I can own my violent side and forgive myself for its existence, then I will be far more merciful and understanding of others. I will also be more able to challenge my emotion into harmless, or potentially even useful reactions, instead of actions which cause anger, alarm or frustration. I don’t think I will ever like violence, nor should I. It will always be difficult for me to watch movies like “The Hurt Locker.” Yet acknowledging a problem and opening it to the light will always be better than hiding it, or hiding from it. If we could have such a conversation as a country, understanding how certain words and actions can lead to violence, perhaps we could better understand our collective goals for peace and how to make them a reality.