Part 6 : Marital Rape is Still Rape : The Culture that Enables Him
The Family Guilt Machine - How blood ties bury bruises and blame the one bleeding
From the Series: What They Did Behind Closed Doors
⚠️ Content Warning: This piece contains sensitive content about marital abuse, and family silence. Please read with care and prioritize your emotional safety. If you or someone you know is in danger, please seek professional support or contact a trusted resource.
🔁 Previously in the Series: In Part 5, we confronted how spiritual institutions protect image over innocence silencing women to save reputations. In this chapter, we trace how that silence spreads into families, communities, and everyday culture where complicity hides in plain sight, and women are left to bleed in marriages where abuse is excused and silence is expected.
A Name to Hold Her Story:
This chapter is for Ada.
Not one woman but many.
The daughters. The wives. The mothers. The ones who were told to endure quietly for the sake of family, faith, and name.
Ada carries generations of silence but she will not carry it forever.
Emotional Grounding:
“I told them he was hurting me.”
“They told me to stay for the sake of peace.”
“I screamed in silence. They bowed in silence.”
Before you read on, pause:
When was the last time silence felt easier than truth?
What did it cost you or someone else?
The Culture That Enables Him
When the Faith Leaders Go Quiet, the Family Follows And She Pays the Price
“What destroys a woman faster than the abuse itself. The silence of those who knew and said nothing.”
When Culture Opens the Door to Silence
Where tradition becomes a tool to trap her.
Ada finally finds the courage to whisper, “He’s hurting me.”
But instead of safety, she’s met with generational guilt and cultural shame:
“Don’t disgrace the family.”
“Think about what people will say.”
“A woman must endure — marriages aren’t perfect.”
“He’s still your husband — respect your vows.”
What she hoped would be a refuge becomes a tribunal.
She is cross-examined, not comforted.
And the silence she thought was protection becomes her second wound.
The Family Guilt Machine
How blood ties bury bruises and blame the one bleeding.
Your family should be your refuge.
But for many women, it’s the first place their voice is buried.
They say:
“Keep it in the family.”
“Don’t bring shame to us.”
“He’s still your husband.”
Their silence isn’t love — it’s betrayal.
Their loyalty isn’t sacred — it protects abuse not safety.
They weaponize:
Shame
“Why didn’t you stop it?”
“You should have been more submissive.”
Fear
“Leaving will disgrace us all.”
“How will you take care of the children alone?”
“No matter what, he’s still their father. He’ll still be at their days of joy. He’ll be honored. You’ll be invisible.”
Gaslighting
“You’re exaggerating.”
“You’re just emotional.”
“Was it really abuse or just a bad day?”
Guilt
“Think of what your children will feel if you leave.”
“Even if he’s failed you, he’s still their father.”
“You brought him to us. You said you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.”
They told her to stay for the children but they never asked what kind of home the children were staying in.
The Inheritance of Numbness
What they called strength was silence passed down.
Ada sits across from the women who raised her — her mother, grandmother, aunties.
Shaking, she opens up about the terror she endures behind closed doors.
But instead of comfort, she hears a chorus of rehearsed pain:
“We all went through that.”
“Don’t give up too easily.”
“He can still change. Pray harder.”
Then come the stories:
Husbands who “miraculously changed” after years of prayer.
Women who “endured worse and came out stronger.”
What they call strength is silence.
What they call endurance is learned numbness.
They didn’t break the cycle. They survived it.
And now, they want her to inherit it.
A quiet question rises inside her
“If other women survived, what makes anyone sure I will?
What if one night, the violence doesn’t stop and it ends with me?”
She thinks of the bruises, the midnight chaos, the fear that’s become her bedtime routine.
And in that moment not out loud, not with rage, but with quiet clarity she makes a decision to choose survival on her own terms.
When Culture Pretends It Doesn’t Know
The screams weren’t hidden they were ignored.
Once the faith leaders go quiet, culture takes its cue.
Neighbors hear the screams.
In-laws see the bruises.
The aunt who survived the same says, “Keep praying.”
Family whispers, “Don’t make this public.”
The abuse wasn’t hidden.
Everyone knew they just learned how to live beside it.
Like shattered glass on the floor, they carefully step around it pretending it’s not there.
Not a secret, not a shock.
Just another quiet choice for comfort over confrontation.
Why?
Because comfort is easier than confrontation.
Because reputation matters more than rescue.
Because “it’s complicated” is a cover for cowardice.
How many times have you heard it and said nothing?
How many more women must be sacrificed at the altar of silence?
Every Silence Speaks
And it always echoes in favor of the abuser.
Her bruises didn’t fade, they became invisible because no one dared to name them.
The Psychology of the Bystander
Fear may freeze you but silence still feeds him.
Not everyone who stays silent is heartless but silence, no matter the reason, feeds abuse.
Some freeze in fear.
Some look away to avoid their own pain.
Some convince themselves, “It’s not that bad.”
Others worry:
“What if I lose my position?”
“What if the family turns against me?”
“What if I speak up and nothing changes?”
But fear doesn’t absolve complicity.
It only delays justice.
Silence is a choice and it always chooses the abuser.
A Letter to the Bystander
You didn’t lay hands but you held the silence that harmed her.
Dear You — who saw and stayed quiet,
Maybe you thought it wasn’t your place.
Maybe you were scared.
Maybe you hoped she’d be okay.
Maybe you didn’t want to disrupt the peace.
But silence never protected her. It protected him.
While you swallowed your words, she swallowed pain.
While you looked away, she looked for a way out.
While you stayed in the “middle,” she was left in the fire.
You may not have raised a hand but your silence was a hand over her mouth.
It’s not too late to do better.
Choose courage over comfort.
Speak up. Stand up. Interrupt the cycle.
You don’t need a title to protect her.
You just need a conscience.
Sincerely,
Someone tired of watching women bleed in silence.
The Ones Who Break Her Aren’t Always the Loudest
Sometimes it’s the quiet ones in plain sight.
The most dangerous people aren’t always the abusers.
They’re the quiet ones. The polite ones. The respected ones.
The family elders. The community leaders. The best friends. The coworkers.
The ones who knew and looked away.
This culture doesn’t just create abusers.
It sustains them.
What This Culture Destroys
It’s not just her voice it’s generations.
Her voice
Her faith
Her sanity
Her body
Her future
Her trust in her own memory
And the children watched and learned.
They learned that rage is a man’s right, and a mother’s silence is love.
They learned to step around broken things, and call that peace.
This guilty cycle doesn’t shatter one woman it breaks generations.
What Silence Stole From Her
She didn’t stay because she was weak.
She stayed because she was trained to.
Because leaving would make her “a failure.” Because they called her suffering “sacrifice.” Because silence was sewn into her from girlhood dressed up as strength.
The abuse took her body. But silence stole her voice.
Night after night, behind doors that were supposed to mean “safety,” she disappeared.
Not just from the room from herself.
They told her: endure. Sacrifice. Keep the family together.
What they meant was: lose yourself. Quiet your soul. Stay in pain so others can stay comfortable.
They said it was strength. It was survival.
They said it was loyalty. It was betrayal.
By the time Ada left, she didn’t just leave a man.
She left a legacy of silence and crawled back to herself, piece by broken piece.
Every time a woman is told to stay quiet, we write silence into the next generation.
This isn’t just her story. It’s what her daughter may inherit unless we end it now.
Let this be the last generation that calls suffering a woman’s duty.
What Real Support Looks Like
Because passive concern is not protection.
Silence is the norm but support must be the rebellion.
If you truly want to help a woman facing abuse:
Believe her without minimizing or questioning her pain.
Center her safety not his status.
Stand with her, not over her don’t rush her choices or healing.
Help her access resources legal aid, counseling, financial support.
Name the abuse clearly don’t call it “a marital issue” when it’s violence.
Real support isn’t passive.
It’s risk.
It’s resistance.
It’s love made visible.
This Is a Wake-Up Call
If you protect image over impact you’re part of the danger.
To the family:
Stop hiding cowardice behind “we’re just trying to help.”
Stop grooming daughters for suffering and calling it loyalty.
You didn’t protect her — you prepared her for pain, then blamed her for bleeding.
You said, “Keep it quiet.” You said, “It’s not that bad.”
You knew what she was going through and asked her to survive it, because it was easier for you if she stayed.
You called it tradition. But it was betrayal.
You were more afraid of shame than of her death.
You would rather attend her funeral than your own embarrassment.
That is not love. That is legacy violence passed down, preached, and preserved like a family heirloom.
If your love demands her silence, it was never love.
To the community:
Stop calling it “private” because it makes you uncomfortable.
You saw. You heard. You knew.
But you called it culture. You called it endurance. You called it none of your business.
Silence is not neutrality.
It’s participation.
If you’re not part of her safety, you’re part of her danger.
Quote to Remember
“When family fails you, remember you owe them nothing. Your survival is your rebellion.”
“When families protect reputation over rescue, they stop being safe and start becoming dangerous.”
Need Help?
You are not alone and you are not to blame.
🌍 Helpful Resources: 🇳🇬 Nigeria: WARIF – +234 809 210 0009 | www.warifng.org
🇬🇧 UK: National Domestic Abuse Helpline – 0808 2000 247 | nationaldahelpline.org.uk
🇺🇸 USA: National Domestic Violence Hotline – 1-800-799-7233 | thehotline.org
🇨🇦 Canada: Shelter safe (www.sheltersafe.ca)
🌍 Global: UN Womenunwomen.org
If you are in immediate danger, contact local emergency services.
Reflection Prompts
Look closer. What silences have you inherited or enforced?
When was the last time you stayed silent to avoid conflict and at what cost to someone else's safety?
When did your family choose image over your well-being?
What part of your culture still makes room for abuse?
If this piece echoed something real in you, share it. Silence protects no one.
🔜 Next in the Series – Part 7 Drops Sunday
Reclaiming Her Body, Reclaiming Her Voice
A tender yet defiant letter to survivors learning to feel again, speak again, and live again.
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Sae Abiola
A name that means radiant and blessed, born into abundance.
Rooted in grace, carried by purpose, and guided by peace.
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https://open.substack.com/pub/dukelott/p/the-boardman-watches?r=5h1xth&utm_medium=ios
I’m truly in awe of how you’ve handled such a sensitive subject—marital abuse and the silencing that often comes from within families. It’s heartbreaking how often this happens in our society, and even more devastating how many victims are forced into silence for the sake of preserving a family’s reputation.
It’s something I still struggle to fully comprehend—how reputation can be placed above someone’s safety and well-being. The emotional and psychological toll this takes is immeasurable, and yet so often overlooked.
That’s why I’m especially grateful that you chose to address it so boldly and beautifully. Your narrative was not only powerful, but deeply necessary. Thank you for writing this—I truly appreciated every word.