Women Against Abuse

My ex-partner, Rodney,* was always the life of the party, and he could talk his way around anything. But people never saw what he was really like after a night of drugs and booze. I never knew whether I’d be dealing with crack cocaine, alcohol or pills when he walked in the door each night.

Our friends and family didn’t know about the abuse, or his constant need to control me. Rodney said he’d get fired if I pressed charges for the bruises and injuries, and we needed the insurance that came with his job.

Living with him, I felt like a prisoner.

After years of dealing with the abuse that no one knew about, the truth of our relationship became public on the day of my son’s high school graduation. As usual, Rodney was high and drunk. But, despite that, it was a proud day for me as I watched my son walk across the stage to receive his diploma. Later, back at home, I was busy sending pictures to my family. Rodney always grew aggravated when I texted in front of him, but I wasn’t paying him any mind, because I had decided that this day was about my son and not him.

Next thing I knew, he punched me in the face.

With my head spinning, I called my other adult son to pick me up and help me file for a Protection From Abuse order. I was putting ice on my face when I heard our neighbors shouting. My son and Rodney were fighting in the street!

Rodney had ended up face down on the street, and claimed I was to blame. He told the Police I was crazy – that I had mental health problems. I was scared, angry and humiliated all at the same time.

Rodney was always able to manipulate the facts, even talking his way around my 9-1-1 call. The Police took his word over mine. They didn’t see the bedroom door he had kicked in during his rampage to hurt me.

I couldn’t believe what was happening – I was arrested and taken to jail! When I was released two days later, Rodney threatened to press charges against my son if I didn’t go back to him. I couldn’t let him ruin my son’s chances at a full and happy life. I would go back and make the best of things for a year. I told him he had a year to get clean. But that never happened.

In fact, Rodney’s addictions and abusive behavior grew, spilling beyond our home and into our local hospital, where I was having surgery. Rodney would visit me after work, stinking of alcohol. I remember the troubled looks on the nurses’ faces when he would station himself, feet on my bed, for hours on end, sleeping off his hangover. He grew agitated and was asked to leave. He stalked me with nonstop calls and texts. My doctor saw what was happening and refused to release me to him. She said “She’s not going home, just to end up back here.”

They kept me for a couple of extra days as I looked for a safe place to go – I needed care as I healed, and ultimately I took a taxi home, where my son nursed me back to health.

Things reached a breaking point when, during an argument, I told Rodney he couldn’t use my car. It was really my son’s car & Rodney hated the fact that I had access to my own transportation – that I could go out whenever I wanted to. So, he would insist on going everywhere with me – to the market, the pharmacy, the hairdressers. He would never let me drive – even if he was drunk. It was less stressful to just stay home. I became more and more isolated – shut off from family, church friends and neighbors. Folks would say that they always saw him, but never his partner. He lied about me, told them I was crazy & ruined my reputation.

Only my next door neighbor was wise to our situation. She and I had a system in place. She would call 9-1-1 if she heard me knock on the wall between our houses.

For years, I tried to make it work until I was just too tired – tired physically and emotionally, and tired of being afraid.

When I decided to break things off, I called the Philadelphia Domestic Violence Hotline, but the shelter didn’t have any beds available – they were full. Even though I had a restraining order against Rodney, I decided not to stay in our home – I couldn’t live with the harassment that his family was aiming at me. My home had truly become a prison. So I borrowed money and moved into an apartment with my children to escape the abuse.

The apartment wasn’t much, but when I left that house, I felt like I was free.

Today, I am free – free from Rodney, free from the fear that haunted me every day that I spent with him, free from the shame of hiding this secret.

I am a survivor of domestic violence & I share that with you to help others avoid a similar fate. For anyone out there who is suffering in silence, let me be that voice for you. Listen to me when I tell you, It is not your fault. There are resources available to help you break free and build a life of peace.

There is hope.

My story touches on so many systems – from hospitals, to work places, to law enforcement and courts, to behavioral health, to addiction treatment providers.

It was also heavily influenced by neighbors – people living next door to the abuse. If a coordinated community response like Shared Safety had been in place for me, I wouldn’t have fallen through the cracks.

Maybe if my childhood had been different – if I hadn’t been abused as a child and sexually assaulted as a teen; if I’d had a trusted person to confide in; or a safe place to go; Maybe if a teacher or a doctor or a neighbor or a supervisor had noticed something wasn’t quite right and said something or done something.

If there had been even one caring and supportive voice – maybe then, I wouldn’t have lived with the abuse for so long.

I am a survivor of domestic violence & I share that with you to help others avoid a similar fate. For anyone out there who is suffering in silence, let me be that voice for you. Listen to me when I tell you, It is not your fault. There are resources available to help you break free and build a life of peace.

There is hope.

I urge all of you listening today to help us bring Shared Safety to its full potential.

Tell the people in your life about this.

Be part of the change by joining a Shared Safety subcommittee.

Support the work financially.

And, rally with us to protect the well-being, the safety and the freedomof our neighbors.

Together, we can build a better way.

*Name changed to protect confidentiality