I want you to know something about me, and how it relates to the FVC.  I am a survivor of domestic violence, and, with my colleagues, we are working to break the cycle of abuse in many ways. One of those is stereotyping of who is a victim and who is an abuser. We just held a dialogue with representatives of media and advocates about this issue.

I want to share some of what we talked about with you, so perhaps you will be able to help someone. Or perhaps you will be able to help yourself.

The first time I left my abusive former husband it was Thanksgiving eve. I was cooking a turkey and he became angry because I didn't put enough onions in the stuffing. He took the turkey out of the oven and threw it at the wall. I went to a friend's house and spent the night. I returned the next day and finished making dinner.
 
The second, third and fourth times I left I went to my office, shut the door and spent the night. Embarrassed, ashamed and frightened, in a high level job and an elected member of the school board, I wanted to hide my shame. I knew if I let anyone in on my secret and then went back to my abuser I would be ridiculed and misunderstood.

In the very recent past we have been hearing a lot about Rihanna returning to Chris Brown. Unfortunately it's not a novel story...only this time the characters are famous.  There is a cycle of violence. The cycle includes a seduction, a building of trust, a feeling of security, and then, out of the blue, a smack down. 

One of my FVC colleagues, Johnny Rice, II, Director of the Office of Grants Management in the Maryland Department of Human Resources, points out that Brown is not representative of all men. Johnny says that historically domestic violence has been viewed as a women's issue and a private matter.

Over the past ten years there has been an emerging movement underway to get men to publicly denounce and speak out against violence against women. Positive men can influence other men to address beliefs that perpetuate abuse towards women. Positive men can also assist young boys in developing positive attitudes towards girls and women. 

This enlightened viewpoint did not exist when I was abused.

It takes a lot to break the cycle of violence.  I remember like it was yesterday how I was able to go.

I lived in Oklahoma, in a big house, drove a new car and wore nice clothes. I was black and blue from the neck down. When the moment came that I realized my actions didn't cause or prevent beatings, I knew I had to develop a pattern of camouflage for the outside world designed to disguise my pain. I concealed my hurt from friends, co-workers and family. Eventually I even was able to deceive myself.

My teenage daughter was spending the night at a friend's house more than was necessary. We both averted questioning eyes. And then on March 10, 1985, sensing danger, I made a call to my daughter's friend's mother, asking if she could spend the night. That wise woman paused, and then asked the pivotal question: "You're being hurt, aren't you? Can I help you?"  In that moment, I knew I had to let down at least a small piece of my guard. I said I was in a bad situation and it was getting worse. I promised that night I would sleep in my daughter's room, with a portable phone nearby. This was long before programs like Verizon Wireless' Hopeline.

When I got home I was, in fact, badly beaten. I remember thinking, please, let there by a physical sign that someone cares about me. I promised myself that if I got out alive I would devote myself to helping other women leave.

Afterward I made my way into a guest room.  I was so drained I fell on the floor and slept. A few hours later I heard frantic pounding on the front door. It was my daughter's friend's mother and a police officer. She had tried to call to see how I was, and I didn't hear the phone. She cared. This time, I didn't avert my eyes. I walked outside and never went back.

So why am I so honored to be part of the FVC?  In my travels I run across women who avert their eyes.  I know that sometimes all it takes to make the difference in an abused person's life is that someone makes the effort not to judge. But to care.

A few years ago I was back in Oklahoma and visited my friend. We talked, laughed, and caught up on stuff about our daughters' lives. As I was leaving, I turned and met her eyes.  I thanked her for saving our lives.

If you know someone who is abused, please call a domestic violence agency and ask how you can help. Someday the person you save will be able to thank you too.

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