Am a voice telling my story, yes, I am a man, a father, a brother, a husband, a nephew, a friend and one raised never to acknowledge the pain in public (the macho one). I speak today not as a victim but as a victor, I speak today not with the agony of defeat but with the joy of victory, victory over a societal narrative and stereotype.
When most people hear the term “Domestic Abuse/violence or Intimate Partner Abuse/Violence,” they often assume that a man is the aggressor. Domestic abuse/violence has historically been framed as one in which women are the victims and men the perpetrators While this is true in many of the reported cases, domestic violence against men is more common than you may think and can pose a serious threat to its victims.
If we continue to see men as perpetrators and women as victims, we will continue to ignore the complex dynamics at play in many relationships; that can result in men suffering mental, emotional or physical abuse or violence.
Our society still clings to stereotypes of men as being macho, strong and able to take care of themselves. As a result, the image of a woman yelling at, hitting or beating her man may strike many people as comical; after all, the figures of a “henpecked husband” is typically met with laughs while the abused wife is seen as a tragic figure.
I am Tyrek Galadima and this is the story of my life
Let me start by clearing this air, I am certainly not arguing that the focus of anti-domestic violence/abuse efforts are shifted from female to male victims. Given that women make up the vast majority of domestic abuse victims, it’s reasonable for private groups/government institutions to focus their efforts and the bulk of their resources on them, all am saying is that we cannot ignore the millions of male victims Worldwide who also need our support and help. Please hear them out, they are most times helpless and hopeless too, I have been there, and I know it.
The stereotype is that Muslim men beat their wives. But I was the one being abused and for years I didn’t even recognize my ex’s behavior as abuse. Once I did, it was hard for me to connect with help. That was when I came in rude shock with the fact that there are limited resources for male victims of domestic abuse. I couldn’t reach out to people in my community, and most shelters are set up to care for women, not men.
It started in 2000 when my ex and her family targeted my family, looking for money and connections to send their son to Canada. They were stuck in the city of Zaria in Nigeria after some religious crises that engulfed the City. They decided they had had enough of Nigeria and wanted out; a family friend told my Mom about their situation since she knew my mom usually helps the faithful back home every year as part of her zadakat.
The family friend introduced my mom to Zainab’s mother, immediately after the introduction and my mom’s first assistance, my ex’s mom started calling my mom and “love-bombing” her. I heard my mom laughing on the phone every day, and it made me curious.
I had been born in Sokoto State, Nigeria and came to the U.S. when I was 12 years old with my diplomat parents. My parents decided that year, my mom should resign, we stay back in the U.S while my dad pursues his diplomat career, my mom later went on to become a licensed Nurse and passed as a professor of Nursing with a College I won’t mention here. I did well in school—I now have a Doctorate degree in Economic & Entrepreneurial Development—and when I was young, I skipped three grades.
As I got older, being three years younger than my peers meant I had trouble socializing. When my ex and I started talking she was always praising me, for example, she would send messages listing 10 things she liked about me. She sounded great, and after about 11 months of both families interacting, my family and I went to visit her family in Nigeria. At the time I was 29 years old or she was 30 years old.
We had no intention to travel then but I was 29yrs old and my mom had always talked about me settling down and wanting it to be with a woman of the same culture and faith, coupled with the fact that I am the only male child with two sisters who are twins. My sisters had since relocated to Nigeria with their husbands. Every time my mom spoke to Zainab’s mother, Zainab was always handy to talk to my mom and to pray with her over the phone. My mom took an interest in her and encouraged us to start talking. Over a short space of time, the gifts from my mom to Zainab’s family increased and my dad soon followed suit.
After meeting in person only three times, we were engaged. She seemed perfect. We were married in 2005 and her abuse started right away. But I didn’t realize what was happening.
During my engagement period with Zainab, my dad who was then serving with the Nigerian High Commission in Ottawa Canada had helped Zainab, her mom, her two sisters, and three brothers relocate to Canada. My family and I also played a major role financially in this process of migration. My dad had gotten them an apartment fully paid up for one year.
Zainab is a polyglot who speaks five international languages, I had paid for her certification program with the tutorial classes, she sat for the exam and passed. She got a job as a translator in Canada with a company that had an office in Maryland; the same State where I am based in the U.S, a move that we both planned so she could relocate to Maryland after marriage.
Abuse Goes Unrecognized.
You can imagine my shock while at the wedding reception Zainab’s boss had asked her if she would like to be transferred to the U.S, she said yes but not to Maryland.
She eventually got transferred to the U.S and not Maryland, she was transferred to their office in New York. She convinced me to quit my job and move with her to New York. I had always wanted to start my own business, so I saw nothing wrong resigning and starting up a business in New York. My mom was against this then because I was all she had with her that was close by, my Dad had died in the EAS Airlines Flight 4226 plane crash on May 4th, 2002 that occurred in Kano Nigeria.
After our marriage, my ex took financial control. She transferred to her company’s New York office, which meant I had to quit my job and move to New York with her even though I was earning double what she earns. She told me that she would manage our money, so I didn’t have to worry about finances.
I had studied Entrepreneurship development in my first degree, and this was an opportunity for me to pursue my dream, so I taught. I saw a gap in the Salon industry, and I had started a chain of Salon shops that cater only to the Blacks, my business boomed, and I was happy.
Within months of our moving, her parents came to visit and didn’t leave for several months. I was making six figures annually and my ex was giving me an allowance of $500 a week for gas and food. I didn’t know where our money was going—it turns out it was going to her and her parents, a discovery that left me dumbfounded, I will get to this later in this story.
I had two businesses— hair salons (5 stores in total) and a consulting firm. With checks from them, I net between $45,000 to $50,000 monthly, one month I had deposited $43,000 and two weeks later she told me we didn’t have enough money to pay our mortgage. I didn’t know what she was talking about. She was funneling off all the money into her own bank account.
She monitored my phone and computer. On our wedding night, she gave me a new cell phone. I found out later she was tracking who I was calling on that phone. At one point her brother gave me some CDs of Photoshop. And, along with Photoshop, I had unknowingly installed a key-logging program that tracked everything I was typing and sending it to her brother. The businesses grew so well, Zainab came home one day and told me she had to resign and focus on managing our money, the business was making a net of $50,000 or a little more monthly you do not need to resign your job to manage that.
I had sent $6,000 to my mom because she had to undergo a medical procedure and needed to balance off her co-payment, Zainab raised hell, she made that home unbearable for me and insisted until my mom paid back the money, I reminded her that her two sisters college fee totaling over $60,000 had not been paid back and no attempt has been made by us to collect the money, I reminded her that she had her mom on a monthly allowance of $3,500, a fact I only found out after the auditors came in, her response was that if not for her mom and the prayer ministers she had employed to pray over us, that I would have been killed like my father, that made zero sense to me, my father died in a plane crash. She started the narrative and was consistent with it, that my family is after me as the only male child cos of the inheritance.
She limited access to my family and friends. Anytime I have a contrary opinion on finances, Zainab will start screaming at me and attacking me, she pushes me around while screaming, on several occasions she had pushed me, and I hit my head against sharp objects at home, had stitches on four different times cos of this. I remember vividly in 2009, my sisters had planned to come see mom and me, they came in with their husbands and kids, it was a great family reunion for us and I had promised mom I will take care of the catering expenses for that day, it was $4,000 and I had issued out a cheque to the catering company for this, a few days after the reunion party, my mom called me to inform me the caterer said the cheque did not clear, I was shocked and I called the bank and was informed Zainab had stopped the cheque. I was livid, I approached Zainab and an argument ensued, she claimed my sisters took my dad’s properties in Nigeria and they should be satisfied with that and not continue to heap expenses on us. I reminded her that I gave my sisters the two properties in Nigeria because I had sold the only property my parents had in the U.S to start my business and the entire family supported me on that and I taught it was fair to reciprocate the gesture and support and moreover the property in the U.S was worth much more than the two properties in Nigeria combined.
I also drew her attention to the fact that her mom and two sisters have been living with us for several years now without any contribution to the upkeep of the home, added to that she pays her mom $3,5000 monthly from the business, it was swift and landed heavily on my face, that was the slap, yes she slapped me for calling out her family. The mom came down and as I made my way to get out of the house, she tried stopping me and I forcefully pulled myself through and left the house. That was the beginning of several physical waves of abuse I suffered from Zainab with her mom as an accomplice.
Permit me to shock you; even with all these, it never dawned on me then that I was been abused cos I never knew a man could be abused.
Our daughter was born in 2007 and our son followed in 2009. We would visit my ex’s family, but not mine. I would call my Mom and sisters on Sundays and she would rush me off the phone. And all my friends were her friends’ husbands—I didn’t have any friends of my own.
I didn’t realize how much control my ex held over me. One day, a group of guys was hanging out at the lounge attached to one of my salons and one of them said to me, “You’re the most controlled person of anyone I know.” I thought, “I’m happy. I’m living the American dream. I have two little kids, I have a big house, a timeshare in Mexico, two BMWs. What is he talking about?”
In 2009 my mom passed and at the funeral service, Aunty Aisha leaned close to me and said Tyrek “I am sorry”. I did not understand what that was for, Aunty Aisha is the family friend that introduced my mom to Zainab’s family.
I met her after the funeral and I had asked her what the apology was for, she said to me we knew all this while what you have been going through, your mom and I had several conversations on this and we prayed for you, now she is gone, if you ever need me, you can count on me, I will be here for you.
Aunty Aisha’s words were a rude awakening to me, her words rekindled the words of the guy that was at my salon lounge, I paused for a moment and said to myself I need to do a deep soul searching about myself, its time to seek answers to some happenings around me.
Many questions flashed through my mind, am I in trouble without knowing it, is something bad happening to me and am not aware of it. I decided to seek answers.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Tyrek Galadima.