Women Against Abuse

*Content Warning: Contains descriptions of severe physical abuse and rape.

In the early stages of my mother's new relationship, she earned a promotion at work. Me and my little brother were sent to a babysitter who lived in our building. The babysitter’s 18-year-old son molested me every day. My mom found out, and asked her boyfriend to move in with us out of fear. I was gung-ho about it. It was nice to have a man at home again because I missed my dad and the added security. And he was such a loveable guy, at first.

My mother had always exuded strength and beauty. She’s not a large woman, but when she walked into the room, people took notice. She was a queen. My Queen!

But her boyfriend’s attitude towards her changed swiftly. When my mom lost her job, she and her boyfriend opened a speakeasy. The liquor bottles started piling up, and strangers frequented our house. Some of my relatives tried to intervene, and my mom decided to pull the plug on the new business. But when she tried to put an end to it, her boyfriend beat her black and blue.

I remember my mother’s face looking as if she had been run over by a train. As she sat on the couch in tears, she was saying “I’m okay.” But it wasn’t okay. I felt like it was all my fault. Had I never got molested, had we never had to go to court, had I never been born, she would have been okay. At least that’s what I believed back then.

The abuse went on like this for years. They would argue. He would hurt her, and I’d feel sick to my stomach as I watched my mom take him back. I saw less and less of the woman my mother had been.

My brothers and I grew increasingly angry. The last straw was when he shot up our refrigerator. He put three bullets in it with my mom standing right there in the kitchen.

Upon the arrival of the police, we were promptly relocated. Due to space constraints at our family's residence, we sought refuge at the Women Against Abuse (WAA) emergency shelter. Leaving our previous life behind was difficult, but WAA provided unwavering support throughout the transition. We received fresh clothing and enjoyed regular family-style meals. Sharing a room with my mother and brothers was a unique experience, but our sense of safety made it worthwhile.

Most of all, I fell in love with the workers there who would care for me, encourage me, hold my hand, or give me a hug when I needed it.

I missed months of second grade as my mom tried to figure out our next steps. I had been in the mentally gifted program, so WAA staff made sure I kept up with my studies. They also helped connect me with dance classes, the community’s church choir, and family talent shows. Spaghetti nights were always the best!

My time at the shelter was not entirely a blissful experience. It was also a period of great emotional turmoil. My mother, brothers and I were still struggling to cope with the trauma we had endured, and I began experiencing troubling symptoms. Bedwetting and recurring nightmares became a reality that I couldn't seem to control. Furthermore, my mother's relationship with her abusive partner took an unexpected turn. Their phone calls became more frequent, and she even started visiting him.

Eventually, we had to say goodbye to the WAA shelter, and it was one of the hardest goodbyes I ever had to make because I knew we were safe there. I was walking back into a world that was so unsafe for me and my brothers.

My mom’s ex moved right back in with us, and the cycle started all over again. And this time there was no support or WAA shelter. Our family was frustrated that my mom couldn’t see how toxic this relationship was and they started pulling away.

The abuse didn’t happen every day, but it felt like every day because you never knew what to expect. Would today be the day you arrived home from school to see your mom with a black eye and the house all messed up? Or would we find my mother dead? Even worse, was I next?

Instead of him getting help or a job, he moved his kids in, so we were now a seven-person household living in a two-bedroom apartment. There was nowhere to hide. You’d hear the fights and arguments and beatings, and my older brother would try to run in and fight and save my mother, but he couldn’t save her. He’d just get beaten too.

It wasn’t until I was 11 and suffered a gang rape on the way to school that my life finally changed. I walked home from the park where I had been raped to find the police arresting my mom’s abusive partner. They had him in handcuffs, and – despite feeling broken and lifeless from what had just happened to me – I smiled. For the first time since he walked into our lives, she was choosing herself, and it felt like she was choosing me too.

When I was about 14 or 15, my mom met “her person” and has been married to him for 30 years because she finally took the time to love herself. That is my message – you must love yourself.

It took me 20 years to fully forgive my mother for all she exposed my brothers and me to. But what won’t kill you will certainly make you stronger, and I am a force to be reckoned with!

Today I have four beautiful children. My oldest daughter is engaged to a wonderful young man. I broke the cycle for my kids. They know we have a zero-tolerance policy for abuse. I never wanted to be married or live with a man after all I had experienced, but that is finally starting to change. I’m not afraid anymore. I want those things now.

I also have a flourishing career, and I'm leading the charge for change in my role within City Council.

Looking back, I’m so grateful for Women Against Abuse, because had I not had that organization in my life as a child, I can promise you that I would have been a different woman today. Those words and seeds that were planted in me by the women and men who worked there stayed within me and blossomed and grew.