SAD GIRL HAPPY HOUR AND THE STORY OF HOW I SURVIVED WITH SONG

words by Amber Lake

“Seven hundred percent.”

The statistic, in fact, is 750%. However, in the haze of shock and confusion resulting from the chokehold my husband had me in, the exact figure eluded me. The bewildering statement did momentarily distract him.

Eerily enough, I had read a comment on a Reddit thread earlier that day that suddenly manifested during my panic. It said that a person involved in a domestic violence attack of strangulation is more than 750% more likely to be killed by their offender within a year. The statistic is part of a report by the National Library of Medicine (NIM) about non-fatal strangulation as a risk factor for the homicide of women.

Incidentally, those numbers shone like a cheap neon sign in a bizarre clearing of the cloud of fear. And when he decided to release me, it was the only thing I could think to say.

Of course, this was a particularly strange declaration to him, given the circumstances. It didn’t take long for him to recover, unfortunately.

These weren’t, however, my final words. Far from it.

Only later, when I found myself very alone, scrambling to put the pieces of my life back together and failing miserably, did I turn to music. I am not a performer, by any means, but there was something intrinsically peaceful about how the air filled around me with notes and noise so loud my brain finally opted for a break. Going to concerts, where the air becomes thick with sound, felt like medicine.

I soon met singer/songwriter Elyse Berlin, who telepathically tuned into my distraught state like an emotional swami for survivors and asked me if I wanted a hug. I did. In that group embrace of women, I fell apart sobbing while feeling slightly concerned I looked utterly unhinged. More than that, however, was one giant, overwhelming, awe-inspiring sense of relief.

Soon after, Berlin invited me to Sad Girl Happy Hour, an event she performed at.

SAD GIRL HAPPY HOUR: WHERE SAD GIRLS GET STRONG (AND SOMETIMES EVEN)

Sad Girl Happy Hour is a collective of all-female musicians. Of course, men are allowed to attend the show, even featured in bands; however, the primary songwriter has to be a woman in the band to perform at the event. The show is the love child of local musician Megan McKenzie, who started Sad Girl as a safe space for overlooked women artists in a male-dominated music industry.

“I quit music for 10 years,” McKenzie said. “It was partially because of sexism. In mainstream rock music at the time, there weren’t many women. I was the only woman (at an event) that was not someone’s girlfriend. I remember thinking that there was no space for me here. It felt like I had to fight six times as hard.”

During her stint in Tallahassee as a young performer, McKenzie was told by

male band members to lose weight. She was referred to as a “little lady.” She was offered a recording in exchange for sex, and when she said no, he refused to work with her. Rather than give up, McKenzie created a space where women musicians could offer the support she felt she didn’t have.

Sad Girl Happy Hour has a rotation of musicians on its circuit. Performances often include McKenzie, Elyse Berlin, Jessica Hope, Ayron Moleen, and Tori Nance. She hopes the event will provide not only a place for women to express themselves freely but also offer mentorship to more novice performers. Before McKenzie performs “Cold Cruel Water,” she often delivers a trigger warning. The song is about her experience of being raped. In it, she references how she kept changing the sheets of her bed, washing them repeatedly after the assault.

“I felt violated,” McKenzie said. “I don’t like using the word dirty, but that was kind of how I felt, even though I don’t think I was.”

According to McKenzie, this line has particularly resonated with women who’ve suffered sexual assault. Ritualized cleansing as a processing behavior is typical among people who’ve experienced recent sexual trauma. On more than one occasion, she’s been approached after a show by women who’ve recognized themselves in her music.

Gail Patin, CEO of Hubbard House in Jacksonville, said support groups offer women the ability to interact with others who have similar experiences and are at different stages of recovery. Studies on group therapy have shown these communities help reduce feelings of isolation and increase empowerment and validation among women with trauma.

Validation is one of the many ways women heal from violence. According to Patin, however, trauma never leaves. Women do, however, learn to live with it. Additionally, she believes that music, coupled with validation, becomes an even more powerful tool during the recovery process — not just for those making it but for those listening to it.

THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON MUSIC

“One good thing about music, when it hits, you feel no pain,” said Bob Marley famously in “Trench Town Rock.” It’s no surprise a correlation exists between music and healing. Most of us feel good listening to it, regardless of our emotional state. But for the many who are suffering, music can provide a healthy relief from mental distress.

After 15 years of emotional, sexual and eventually physically violent abuse during my marriage, I felt relief when I left the near-constant panic of being on the verge of getting hurt.

This alleviation was palpable. However, as Patin noted, one does not simply walk away from trauma.

Between crushing depression, new-found anxiety attacks and horrific, unrelenting flashbacks, I found myself at a lot of live music.

According to Patin, when stories of shared trauma are coupled with music, it stimulates more areas of the brain, which aids in the healing process. At Hubbard House, art and music therapies are utilized in a holistic recovery process.

Neurologists have found that humans register sound in the limbic system. This system is the same neural network of the brain that regulates emotions, memory, motivation and behavior. Good or bad, the recollection of memories and feelings becomes easily activated. It’s through this link many scientists think music therapy has been effective with trauma.

Specifically, however, how music affects the brain of those with post-traumatic stress is a burgeoning field of clinical study. According to an analysis of music on PTSD by the National Institutes of Heath (NIH), there is a correlation between community building, emotion regulation, increased pleasure and anxiety reduction with music therapy’s efficacy.

TAKING OUR POWER BACK

“When I wrote the song ‘Gray,’ it was extremely difficult to sing the first time,” said Sad Girl Happy Hour artist Elyse Berlin. “I wrote it because my abuser kept trying to come to my performances. He came to provoke me. I had to have a plan when he came to my safe spaces. And music is my safe space.” Berlin’s song “Gray” is about her past abusive relationship, explicitly dealing with rape. Not able to keep her abuser from showing up at public performances, she knew she could at least shame him. Writing it, she imagined confronting him.

“Everyone will know I am singing about you and what you did,” she would say.

She has never reported her abuse and has yet to use “Gray” against her abuser. But she could. And knowing that helps. Additionally, the act of writing and speaking about her trauma helps her process it.

“I’ve had friends tell me it’s unhealthy to sing these traumatizing songs,” Berlin said. “I disagree. For me, they start as difficult to sing because I’m working through these horrific events. Eventually, it turns into an empowering statement. When I’m singing the words, I think, ‘That’s how you used to feel.’”

According to the Department of Justice, only 310 out of every 1,000 sexual assaults are reported to the police.

And according to the National Domestic Violence Hotline, over 1 in 3 women in the U.S. have experienced rape, physical violence and/or stalking by an intimate partner in their lifetime. Additionally, about 70% of domestic violence is never reported to the police. Given the profound prevalence and the likelihood of those reporting it, it gives reason why many women aren’t talking about their trauma.

It’s well known that domestic violence happens behind closed doors. Often, women do not want to file a report because of the experience, or they blame themselves.

Mostly, they do not think it’s helpful to report and, if they did, how that reaction may negatively impact them.

One method women can use to speak safely about their experiences is through the veil of art. It creates a dynamic way to approach feelings and destigmatizes traumatic events. And when hearing it, other women find they aren’t alone.

“I write these songs both for myself and for people to hear it,” Berlin said. “When I’m writing, I’m thinking, I don’t want other women to get hurt. I don’t want other women to go through what I went through.”

Sad Girl Happy Hour may be one of dozens of unconventional ways women like myself have found solace in unstructured, nonclinical settings. It’s allowed me to connect with a community of women similar to me that I would otherwise not have. They are strong women that give me hope. Additionally, the most dangerous place I found myself was alone. Isolation was more dangerous, at times, than my marriage.

Personally, however, I don’t believe I am a statistic. I don’t feel like a survivor, either. I sure as hell am not part of that 750%. I have, however, found I am not alone. And I’m not scared anymore, either.

If you or anyone you know is experiencing domestic violence, the Hubbard House has a 24/7 hotline to call and speak to someone. You can call (904) 354-3114 or text (904) 210-3698.

Additionally, Sad Girl Happy Hour will take place next on Oct. 18 at The Walrus, if you just want to hear some music.

Lastly, please know that you’re so much stronger than you think. I know this because I am, too. We all are.