BoomerGirl Diary

After having lunch with a friend yesterday, I came home and switched on the computer and the TV. As I sat down to check e-mail, I noticed the news ribbon along the bottom of the TV screen. The Colorado Springs Police had closed a portion of Murray Boulevard due to a drive-by shooting.

I had just come from a little west of that area. I had planned to go to the grocery store on Murray, but got one of my bad feelings about it and just came straight home. A drive-by shooting... no other details.

A couple of hours later it was reported that the shooting was the result of what police call a rolling incident-- one car chasing another. Two young men dead, another critically injured and a young woman injured less severely. One of the dead was the shooter.

And I knew. Immediately, I knew what had happened. I grieved for the families of all the young people involved. And I grieved because I knew exactly what had happened without having to be told by smiling newscasters.

This morning the news reported the circumstances. The young woman had called a friend for help. Her ex-boyfriend was frightening her. Her friend enlisted another friend to drive over and pick her up to get her away from the situation. As they were driving south on Murray they saw the ex-boyfriend's vehicle following them. He flashed a shotgun at them. The group called 911 for help, and continued driving south-- heading for the Sand Creek police sub-station. A few blocks down the road, he rammed their SUV and fired a shot into the passenger side, hitting the young man sitting there. The driver stopped the SUV and the ex-boyfriend shot and killed him. The shooter then dragged the young woman out of the SUV and, out of ammunition, began beating her with the butt of the shotgun. Then the police arrived. The shooter walked over to his vehicle, pulled out another shotgun and killed himself. These children were high school students, all between 15 and 18.

Tonight one young man is dead and another clings to life because they tried to help a friend in distress. A young woman lies in a hospital bed recovering from a beating, although she may never recover from the psychological beating she received.

And we, as a society, are still "ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard," asking the same stupid and wrong question.

Why doesn't she leave? we ask.

Why does he batter? we should ask.

But we don't ask that because we are afraid of the answer. Because we have taught him to batter. Because boys will be boys. Because girls are Cinderella, scouring their lives away until the boy-prize that will save them shows up. Because every year we have to have a conference to explain to judges, male and female, why they should punish batterers instead of smacking their little wrists, and sending them home to "work it out" with the little woman.

He batters because he can. Because a some level, we let him. Our culture accepts such behavior as long as it is not too obvious. As long as it doesn't disturb our sleep or ruin our garden party.

We encourage aggression in boys. It's seen on sports fields and in the workplace. If a woman complains about the behavior, she's not a "team-player," she's a whiner with a victim mentality, or she's just a frigid bitch with no sense of humor.

And if she's better at sports, she's a "ho."

Even other women will join in the name calling. I cringe when I see a girlfriend's reaction to her husband's whiplash reaction to an attractive woman passing by. "I'm going to tear that bitch's hair out!" one friend screamed about a waitress.

Some women will even join in the violence, physically attacking others. I have two teenaged nieces who have no problem getting in anyone's face.

We, as a society, have taught our children that it is acceptable to batter a woman.

And I grieve for us.