I grew up with a violent mother who subscribed heavily to feminism. Had a bad day at work? It's the male boss's fault. Vacuum cleaner broke down? It's because a man designed it. You get the picture. Anyway, she would take out her frustrations on me and dad, and would generally blame us for it as her own fists flew. However, as dad often worked nights, it would generally just be me, but even when he was there, he wouldn't stop her because he was conditioned to believe that it was wrong for a man to hit/overpower a woman under any circumstance. He would yell at her to stop, but the one time he grabbed her and physically forced her to, she played the victim and threatened to call the police. She never used weapons, but I would quite often go to school with visible bruises, black eyes, etc. and the teachers would assume it was my dad. The thing that finally got her to stop was when I was 15 and finally big enough to stand up to her, she was in a rage one day and threw a glass at my head and I turned around and hit her. It was only on the arm but it was hard enough that she got the message and never touched me again after that. It's the only time I ever hit a woman in my life and I do not regret it one bit. I moved out of home as soon as I turned 18, lived off my own hard-earned $200/week (inc. rent) until I finished uni, and haven't seen her since.
I don't talk about this much, but there ya go. There are few things that light my fuse more than the feminist narrative about how domestic violence is a gendered problem. There was a White Ribbon article a couple of years ago that really sparked me up (this one:
https://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/r...n/news-story/e2b95635d2f37fe6eebdde2ff91545d6) and my wife cracked a joke that just calmed me down immediately. I've gone from having a woman as the worst thing in my life to having one as the best thing in my life.