Of the six men who were murdered during the Salem Witch Trials, five were known to be excessively violent. Bear in mind, domestic abuse was legal in those days (ahem*marital rape is still legal in Ohio). Wives, children, servants and slaves, livestock, all were the property of white male landowners and could be beaten at will. Severe violence and murder were frowned upon, but the day-to-day slapping around necessary to keep everyone in line was perfectly fine. One of the accused landowners had murdered a hired hand in a fit of rage. The hired hand’s mother was in the crowd gathered to watch the landowner hang.
There were no reports of sexual abuse. It wasn’t a thing.
Who would report it? To whom? What would happen to the abuser? No one, to nobody, and nothing.
Interesting, though, isn’t it?
Highly recommended source:
A Storm of Witchcraft: The Salem Trials and the American Experience
book by Emerson Baker
Rumor has it I have been slacking with the blog posting situation. It is true. I have taken a giant step away from social media lately in order to enjoy my school break and to relish the completion of my book launch. I have been hanging out with the hubby, the dog, my daughter, reading, going to yoga, and breathing. Whew.
Here are some things I have learned during my first year in Ohio:
Midwesterners are kind.
Gentle landscapes are just as beautiful as dramatic scenery.
Wildlife is completely different-giant groundhog things and muskrats, cardinals and yellow finches. No whales.
It takes time to relax into love.
The sharp pointy edges of emotional armor require conscious effort to dismantle and set aside. Taking them off is merely the first freeing, weightless step. Then comes inching away from the weapon pile. Letting them gather dust and rust. Wandering so far away you can’t remember where they are or how you ever got them on.
The Uncomfortable Confessions Of a Preacher’s Kid is available now.