When my eyes first saw the video of Ray Rice slugging his then-fiancée with a vicious left hook, knocking her to the floor of that elevator, I thought not of the NFL.
Instead, I thought of the women in my life — my mother, my sister, my aunts and my grandmother.
I imagined them falling to the ground, unconscious after a man — any man — hit them the way Rice hit his fiancée.
Vitriol coursed through my veins just imagining this hypothetical situation, in which a faceless, nameless man hit one of the women I love so dearly.
Then something else came to mind.
This wasn’t a random woman… Read more