Ward of the Court

The White House’s Commitment to Combating Violence Against Women

2010-04-23T11:09:00.000-07:00

Posted by Lynn Rosenthal on February 02, 2010 at 09:00 AM EDT

For six months now, I have held the first-ever White House position dedicated to combating violence and sexual assault against women and continuing the important work of the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA). Every morning when I’ve walked into the White House, I’ve brought with me the stories of the many survivors I have worked with over the years. I’ve focused on raising the profile of violence against women issues across Federal Agencies, states, tribal communities, and localities; coordinating interagency collaboration on these issues; implementing victim assistance programs; and integrating these issues into Administration-wide programs such as the White House Fatherhood Initiative, the White House Council on Women and Girls, HUD’s fight against homelessness, and the Justice Department’s recent effort to better combat disproportionate violence in tribal communities.

Yesterday, I met with a group of 16 leaders of organizations that combat violence against women, provide resources for women who face domestic violence and sexual assault, and advocate for victims. During this meeting, I shared with these leaders the same information I am sharing with you -- information on how the White House, through the President’s FY 2011 budget, is making combating violence against women a real priority.

Violence Against Women Act as a Budget Priority

The FY 2011 budget will provide a record total of $730 million to combat violence against women -- a $130.5 million increase in funding from the previous fiscal year. The VAWA, passed in 1994, already provides thousands of victims with life-saving services, improvements in the criminal justice system and increased public awareness. The President’s FY 2011 budget not only continues this strong response, but bolsters current funding and responds to the emerging needs of communities.

Crime Victims Fund

The budget provides a $100 million increase from the Crime Victims Fund, specifically for emergency shelter, transitional housing, and other local services for domestic violence and sexual assault victims. By focusing on both immediate safety and long-term housing assistance, we can help ensure that victims don’t have to choose between living with abuse or becoming homeless. Furthermore, the Crime Victims Fund does not consist of a single taxpayer dollar; it is self-sustaining and supported by criminal fines, forfeited bail bonds, and penalties for Federal offenders. In addition to a fund increase from the Crime Victims Fund, the FY 2011 budget provides $140 million for battered women’s shelters and services, an increase of $10 million from the previous fiscal year.

Victim Resources and Legal Support

The $730 million also provides vital funding for victim resources. The National Domestic Violence Hotline and Teen Dating Violence Helpline are receiving increased funding of $4.5 million to ensure every call is answered. The budget also provides $30 million in VAWA funding for victims of sexual assault -- a $15 million increase from the previous year -- which will be utilized by the Sexual Assault Services Program to provide crisis intervention, advocacy within the criminal justice system, support during forensic exams, and other related assistance.

The FY 2011 budget bolsters legal support for domestic violence and sexual assault victims by providing $50 million in VAWA funding for legal assistance for victims, a $9 million increase from the previous year. The Civil Legal Assistance Program will use this funding to help victims more easily obtain protective orders and other assistance available through the court system.

To build upon the above improvements in the criminal justice system, the budget also provides $188 million in STOP grants that provide better training, improved data collection, specialized law enforcement and prosecution units, and courts specialized for domestic violence and sexual assault cases.

Support Across the Board

Ending domestic violence and sexual assault is a priority for President Obama and Vice President Biden. I’ve written about numerous fund increases and initiatives that are testaments to this fact. In my meeting yesterday, the White House’s commitment to violence against women issues was clear -- we are increasing support for women across the board.

Lynn Rosenthal is the White House Advisor on Violence Against Women

FACES OF HOPE: EMIG FAMILY

2010-03-31T13:17:00.000-07:00

The Story of a Family Who Inspired the Creation of the Purple Ribbon Fund for Children and Camp Butterfly

"On April 26, 2007 our lives changed forever. It was the worst phone call we could ever receive. Eight year old Anthony crying "Nam, I need you now, my dad shot my mom" At that moment it never occurred to us that she was dead. My first thoughts were to get her help, and get to Anthony and Jillian, his 3 year- old sister. That wasn't the case. Our second born daughter was shot and killed by her husband, who then committed suicide, with Anthony watching. What trauma for a child to suffer.

We have suffered so many losses through this tragedy. Our daughter and their mother gone forever. The children can only visit her gravesite. It is a very unpleasant task to take them to the cemetery. We lost the joy and privilege of being their grandparents. We now have to play the role of parents and that changes everything.

It is so hard to put into words the affect this has had on us all as a family. We lost our daughter, Anthony and Jillian lost their mother, and our other two daughters have lost their sister. Although 3 years have passed, the pain remains.

Anthony has said that he would like to get to know other kids who have lost their parents like he did. He feels like he and Jillian are alone in that respect. We were very excited to hear about Camp Butterfly and the opportunity for the kids to meet other kids who have lost their parents to domestic violence.

As grandparents raising these children, it would be great to be able to share our feelings and frustrations with others who truly understand what we are experiencing. Purple Ribbon Council's Camp Butterfly would be that place. Domestic violence is horrific and it affects so many people. The effects of domestic violence homicide are forever.

We didn't think to ask for help, we just thought we had to do it all ourselves and go on with our lives. We are so grateful for the Purple Ribbon Fund for Children and the support this special fund has provided to Anthony and Jillian. This is a blessing to us.”

Glen & Perry Emig

Grandparents of Jillian, age 7
and Anthony, age 10
Bethlehem, PA

The New York City 2009 Annual Domestic Violence Fact Sheet

2010-03-31T12:01:00.000-07:00

http://www.nyc.gov/html/ocdv/downloads/pdf/2009_annual_DVFactSheet.pdf

During the last eight years (1/1/2002 through 12/31/2009), family related homicides decreased by 20%.

FAMILY RELATED HOMICIDES*

There were 61 family related homicides in 2009.

o 11 victims were killed in the Bronx.

o 19 victims were killed in Brooklyn.

o 9 victims were killed in Manhattan.

o 19 victims were killed in Queens.

o 3 victims were killed in Staten Island.

o 67% of these cases had no known prior police contact.

o 87% of these cases had no current order of protection.

*Data is preliminary and subject to further revision by NYPD. Family related homicide includes intimate partners as well as homicide committed by other family members and includes children who were killed as a result of family violence.

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE EMERGENCY SHELTER*

There are 2,144, domestic violence emergency shelter beds citywide, a 35% increase since January 2002.

*Statistics provided by the Human Resources Administration

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE CALLS FOR ASSISTANCE*

Police responded to 250,349 domestic violence incidents in 2009; this averages to over 650 incidents per day. In addition, NYPD’s Domestic Violence Unit conducted 69,188 home visits in 2009, a 79% increase since 2002.

In 2009, the City’s Domestic Violence Hotline advocates answered 140,985 calls, averaging more than 380 calls per day. In 2008, 134,903 calls were answered.

* Statistics provided by NYPD and Safe Horizon

TEEN ABUSE

Since its inception in 2005 through December 31, 2009, the New York City Healthy Relationship Training Academy of the Mayor’s Office to Combat Domestic Violence has reached 11,561 young people through 596 peer education workshops. The Academy has also partnered with the New York City Housing Authority, the Administration for Children’s Services, and the Department of Juvenile Justice to educate both young people and staff about healthy relationships.

In 2009, 680 teens called the City’s Domestic Violence Hotline requesting shelter.*

* Statistics provided by Safe Horizon

PROJECT H.E.A.L. (Hospital Emergency Assistance Link)

All 11 City public hospitals have digital cameras that document injuries and Domestic Violence Coordinators who assist victims and connect them with social and legal services.

NEW YORK CITY FAMILY JUSTICE CENTER, BROOKLYN

Since opening in July 2005 through December 31, 2009, the New York City Family Justice in Brooklyn has served 28,451 new clients seeking domestic violence services and 5,344 children were supervised in the Center’s Children’s Room, Margaret’s Place. An average of almost 1,500 client visits are recorded each month – this number includes both first-time and repeat visits. There have been 58,603 adult client visits to the Center since it opened.

NEW YORK CITY FAMILY JUSTICE CENTER, QUEENS

Since opening in July 2008 through December 31, 2009, the New York City Family Justice Center in Queens has served 5,349 new clients seeking domestic violence services and 1,184 children were supervised in the Center's Children's Room, Margaret’s Place. An average of almost 750 client visits are recorded each month – this number includes both first-time and repeat visits. There have been 12,654 client visits to the Center since it opened.

If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, call 911 for emergencies; call NYC’s 24-hour Domestic Violence Hotline at

1-800-621-HOPE (4673) TTY: 1- 866-604-5350 or 3-1-1 for general City services information. Help is available in all languages. Callers will

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE FACT SHEET CALENDAR YEAR 2009

Michael R. Bloomberg, Mayor City of New York Yolanda B. Jimenez, Commissioner

Living in Limbo

2009-12-05T21:14:00.001-08:00

It has been over 3 months since I last wrote here. Many things have happened. Good and well, not so good. Mostly good though. Domestic Violence awareness is heightening in my place of work due to a wonderful event that I took part in called, "Poetry In Purple". You guessed it. Poets and other artists gathering together to raise awareness about this ugly social disease of domestic abuse. (the magazine is coming soon). There is so much to say about the show but the most important part is that hearts were moved, tears were shed and victims are coming forth more than before to break their silence and get on the road to becoming survivors. If I can use my life to help one person save their life, my job is done.

I was asked to speak at a prestigious university at a conference filled with judges, the most experienced experts in the field and fellow survivors. It was a spiritual experience as I bonded with the other survivors. It was an immediate unspoken love. It's hard to explain but that is the best I can do to describe the kinship I felt with them and the experts. People kept praising me for enduring what I had to endure, witnessing my father constantly abuse my mother but I didn't see the need. This was the life that was handed to me and it was all I knew, so it was somewhat normal to me. Honestly, I did not really see the extent of the dysfunctionality of my childhood and adolescenthood until now. The only way I was able to survive and without self-medicating myself was my relationship with God.

God is a real person to me. My father. I always felt love from God shining down all over me, embracing me. Everytime I would ask for a sign that he loved me, he was patient enough with me to show me. He really is Love. He has protected me through the roughest of times and led me, holding my hand, down a path of peace of mind. Even though I would feel like the lowest thing on planet Earth, he would always assure me that I am special and beautiful and needed to endure and survive. Now I know that I have experienced all that I have in order to help others like me. Orphans of domestic violence who have been forgotten by society. This is why I answered the call of the Purple Ribbon Council to head up a support group for kids who have lost a parent/s to domestic violence called The Butterfly Club. I know it is God's will that this program gets off its feet and sprouts wings so I feel honored to be used as a tool by God to make it happen.

Life for me right now is fulfilling for the above reasons but I am also, disappointed, fearful and downright confused about the recent developments involving the status of my father. He was released to a deportation holding facility in August. For more than a decade, my family and I have been assured that he would be deported to his country of birth. We rested our hopes on this and so this gave us peace of mind. But this past Thursday, December 3rd, a relative was informed that my father would be released here in our hometown that very same day. Of course we were all beyond shocked. Immediately I reverted to my 15 year old state when my mom died-the uncontrollable cracking of the knuckles returned, uncontrollable leg shaking, folding my arms in front of me desperately for protection. I am sooooo confused. So now the family has to get Orders of Protection and so on and so forth. I will be contacting my local politicians on Monday because the reason for his release is apalling. My father's country of birth refused to send travel documents for him to return. Basically, they don't want him. So America simply releases him to the public? CRAZY!!!

I don't know what or who my father is now, nor am I interested. I do hope that he has truly accepted God in his life. But that is his business. I have to go on what I remember of him. Besides being a murder, he was a manipulating, calculating, stalker who fed off of fear and intimidation. I have to protect myself and my siblings.
This situation is too big for me to handle emotionally. When we are having difficult emotions and we are not aware of how to channel them, we almost always release the frustration on those around us, those who we love. This is causing me turmoil in my life. But I do believe that if someone is meant to be with you and truly loves you, they would muster up staying power and try to be there for you. It's so hard when someone cannot or will not stretch their mind to understand what you are going through. It doesn't take mental prowess to do this. It takes love.

I feel like I'm in limbo....

Let the Games Begin

2009-08-13T11:25:00.001-07:00

My sister and I occupied the biggest bedroom next to our grandmother’s master bedroom. The guest bedroom next to ours was half the size but still overlooked the backyard where my grandmother grew her tomatoes, string beans, mint leaves and other vegetation. For a Brooklyn garden, it was pretty impressive. My grandmother was no doubt blessed with a green thumb. Anyway, when Eileen moved in, she approached my sister (age 10).

"The bedroom next to your room is nice. Would you like to move in there?"

My sister quickly answered, "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"That bedroom is too big for you especially since Nicole moved out. What are you going to do with all that space?!"

"I don't want to leave this room." My sister said sternly.

After school the next day, my sister came home to find all of her belongings moved to the guest room. It could only hold bunk beds. When I came home a couple days later, my sister blamed me for the reason why we got pushed to the smaller room. It was okay because I already blamed myself which was fast becoming a habit of mine. My absence although it was only for a few days caused us to lose the big room. I was still very grateful we had a place to rest our heads; even if it was a piece of foam instead of real mattresses.

Eileen offered my sister and I a listening ear. She came like an angel wanting to make ‘peace’. She seemed to be there for us in the beginning. When I didn’t want to see a child psychologist at the courts anymore because the atmosphere was so cold, she worked it out so we could each see our own individual psychologists in a warmer environment. She took my sister and I clothes shopping now and then, stressing that we are young ladies now and we needed to look the part. She made us think that she was doing this out of her own pocket but as I found out later, she would take the receipts to my grandmother demanding the money back and then some. My grandmother would give her the money from our mutual funds. My Aunt actually had free reign to our accounts. Steadily my grandmother would give Aunt Eileen more and more allowances and control of my siblings and I.

When mail would come for me, I would find that it was more difficult than usual to open because the glue was especially sticky. My sister revealed to me that aunt Eileen would boil a pot of water, not for tea but to strategically place my letter over the steam to loosen the glue, read my mail and re-glue it before I came home. I don't know how many letters must have been delivered to me but never reached me because aunt Eileen had first dibs. What was her intention? I didn't know at the time. Then my failing college grades would be mailed to the house and before I knew them, my grandmother would yell at me, calling me a failure as soon as I walked through the door.

"Of course I was failing my grades after my first year in college. I couldn't CONCENTRATE!" And after begging for money from my own funds over and over again and being turned down by my grandmother and aunt, I couldn't buy books. I had to resort to asking classmates to borrow their books for a few minutes to make copies to study for the next class.

I found out that when I hit age 19, my grandmother and aunt were no longer receiving Social Security checks for me anymore so basically, I was no longer welcomed. My sister would later see the same dynamic when she was on her way to becoming 19.

They would harass her, gossipping about her to other relatives and "friends" of the family. One evening when our grandmother was out of town on vacation, our step grandfather locked my sister out of the house and despite her franticly knocking the door and ringing the bell, he refused to get out of his bed to open the door. So my sister, bold and determined as ever, called the police for help. They tried ringing the doorbell too but to no avail. At the first attempt to kick the door down, the step grandfather appeared as if by a miracle. He received a warning from the cops. Of course he then proceeded to contact our grandmother. She then contacted all relatives and my sister was blamed for embarassing visit from the authorities.

At 18, Natasha was told to leave. I guess they saw the need to give it a head start with her since she was more of a fighter than I was. My fiery, determined sister refused, informing them that she would move on her own accord when she was good and ready. They kept trying to throw her out and she kept her stance. Aunt Eileen went as far as to sit my sister's boyfriend down while he waited for her to get ready for their date and tell him how mentally sick she was and he would do well to drop her as a girlfriend before she hurts him. Natasha's boyfriend relayed this sorry attempt by aunt Eileen to break them up.

My sister eventually moved out when she felt fit to move at age 21. My grandmother was not as hard on my little brother as my sister and I so he was allowed to stay when he too turned 19. I am sure the fact that Aunt Eileen moved out by that time had something to do with hit.

Anyway, my aunt did lots of things to drive me out of the house. On top of all the other insults, my grandmother started calling me a thief and a liar. I couldn't believe this. It came from left field and it was so not me. I wondered why she added these new names to her bag of tricks. Then one day, my grandmother, "aka" the first world wide web blurted out, "You think I don't know that you go inside of my file cabinet in my bedroom, taking my money?! Stay out of my bedroom!"

So she thought I was stealing money out of her bedroom. No wonder my step grand father would follow me when I went upstairs and periodicaly peer into my bedroom when I was upstairs alone. I even tried to put a lock on my bedroom door and my grandmother yelled at me. "This is my house, not yours! When you get your own house, you can put locks on your door!" Of course aunt Eileene had a lock on her door but I guess that was for me. At this point, my grandmother even locked her door down with three locks everytime she went downstairs.

It turns out that peaceful aunty Eileene was the one breaking into my grandmother's file cabinet, taking money and her personal info such as her social security number. She slyly told my grandmother that she witnessed me breaking into the cabinet and of course she believed her. My grandmother trusted Eileene so much that she allowed her to file taxes and claim my siblings and I as her dependents so she could collect the money. (She continued to file for us even as adults until the IRS caught up to her) What my grandmother didn't know until very recently was that for years, good auntie Eileen used her info to open up credit cards in her name which she shot up to the point of no return.

Well I eventually moved out of the house officially when I was 19 to my aunts delight. She was victorious - one down, two more to go. I really wanted to stay with my siblings but I couldn't take the harassment anymore. My intention was to continue with school, work hard to finish, go out and make money so I could support myself and my brother and sister.

When I would return home to steadily pick up my belongings, I noticed my little sister becoming more and more hostile towards me. I chalked it up as puberty. She would talk back to me and just seemed angry at me all the time. She even started to belittle me with her sharp tongue. I didn't understand until speaking to my sister recently. After I moved out, my grandmother and aunt Eileene would constantly tell her that I didn't love her or our brother. They made her believe that I left because I wanted to get away from them. How horrible. These kids lost both their parents in one night less than three years prior and here they were making them believe that the only person that they looked upon as a mother did not love them. My cousins would also chime in convincing my sister that I hated her. I wondered why everytime I came over to the house to take them to the museum or movies my grandmother would tell me to ask my aunt for permission. When I would suck it up and ask her, I would always get, No. You're not responsible enough. I kept on going to my grandmother's house and I kept on getting shot down until I eventually gave up. My siblings never knew that I would come over to take them out. This is another fact that only came to life very recently as we had a heart to heart to heart. Communication is very important.

Aunt Eileene did some really despicable things to us. Too many to number but what she did next really hurt me for years to come and to this day, I still can't hold back the tears when I think about it.

Enter The Dragon...Lady

2009-08-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

Seventeen was a goal age for me since I was ten. I vowed to myself that I would be a successful child writing prodigy by the age of seventeen. I saw myself sitting in front of Matt Lauer, being interviewed about my latest book. This is why I wrote so many poems and stories until my mother died when I was fifteen. Although my circumstances changed drastically, seventeen became the age I made a resolve not to be anyone’s punching bag anymore.

My grandmother continued my mother’s over-protective spirit so I was hardly outside of the house. I was seventeen living in New York City and I hadn’t even ridden the train by myself. I made up my mind to get on the train for the first time alone. My destination? Newark, N.J. where a Jehovah’s Witness family that I knew lived. When I told my grandmother, she had a conniption. She stood by the kitchen door that led to the backyard and started yelling at me, asking me if I was crazy. I told her that I’m going to see my friends regardless if she likes it or not. My step-grandfather, as he sat in his sad memory foam, egged her on. Then, as I can remember crystal clear as day, my grandmother screamed, “Then I hope a train runs over you!” I can’t say that I couldn’t believe what my ears were hearing. The words just made no sense but they cut me but not deep enough to stop me from venturing beyond the house. I wanted to travel to Newark even more so. I told her that was a very horrible thing to say, then I left.

Reading subway maps and signs, I learned, is not difficult. On the train ride I thought about my grandmother's remark, "I hope a train runs over you", and I walowed in the pain that I felt. Losing my parents and being criticized and called names by the people who were supposed to love me, hurt me so much. the emotional pain became physical pain. This is how you know you are being subjected to too much. When the emotional pain passes that thresh hold and grips your bones and joints and affects your breathing. Stress is a hell of a thing.

I wallowed so much in my own pain as an adolescent that I forgot the pain that my grandmother must have been going through to. Her doctor prescribed her sleeping pills because she couldn't sleep at night on her own since her first daughter was killed. As I look back, I realize that she blamed me for her daughter's death because my father wasn't there to vent out her anger to. She picked at me and criticized me alot because she was in pain and needed someone to transfer that pain to. I don't think my grandmother meant any harm. She was just caught up in the un-naturalness of it all. She was also from the old school which was a bit rougher, so even before my mom died, when she would babysit me as a young child, I could feel the love from her beyond the abrasiveness. I think she couldn't believe that she allowed, "I hope a train runs over you", to slip out of her mouth so she had to lie to herself so she could believe she never said it. When she told me that I was the reason my mom died, she had tears in her eyes. It was the pain talking. And pain, anger, grief and hurt is not articulate.

Anyway, I found my way to my friend’s house, stayed a couple of hours and made my way back home. When I returned late that evening, I got a call from one of the Borg. “Why did you go to New Jersey without permission and why did you come back so late?” I explained that I was seventeen and I didn’t see anything wrong with taking the train to visit friends. Then I told my aunt, in front of my grandmother and step-grandfather, “Do you know that she told me that she wishes a train ran over me?” At that my grandmother was up in arms. “Nooooo! I never said that! She’s a liar!” My aunt on the line then asked me why I was lying on my grandmother. I kept on insisting I wasn’t lying. I even asked the step-grandfather, “You were right here. Didn’t you hear her say that a train should run over me?” He coyly turned his head away from me. If ever I didn’t think I was alone in this world, this was the moment that I did.

After that, I spent alot of time away from the stresses of the house. I got closer to the Jehovah's Witness woman who was assigned to study the Bible with me. She came from an abusive home in the West Indies and thus moved to the U.S. with a Jehovah's Witness couple to escape it. Although I didn't experience sexual abuse as she did, abuse is abuse nonetheless so we had alot in common. For circumstances that I will describe later, she moved out from her "adopted parent's" home and found an apartment for rent. She needed a second signer so when she asked me for help I said, "Sure!" This was all new to me. I was a sheltered bird struggling to make my way out of the nest. But the freedom felt good. I spent alot of time at the apartment for peace of mind, even having sleepovers now and again. Of course my grandmother was livid. She already stamped me as "moved out" although all of my things were still there. So not too long after that, one of my aunts, Aunt Eileen, who, the night my mom died said to me, “I’m going to make you guys rich”, decided to move back into my grandmother’s house to “help her”. Now that I am older and able to see these times in hindsight, I realize that my aunt didn’t come to the house to be Sally Peacemaker. She came to do quite the opposite.

Eileen is my mother’s youngest sister. At this time she was thirty some-odd years old and she was a literal rolling stone. Every time she moved out and tried to make it on her own, she would find her way back to mommy’s house. At least she always had a cushion to fall on. Her downfall is that she is a “Keeper Upper of the Jones’”. She always lives beyond her means, buying the most expensive clothes, taking the most expensive trips just so she could fit in with the upper crustaceans. She always has to live rich and even if she didn’t have a dime, she would still pretend to be rich. Back then I didn’t know that she, as well as other family members, only saw my siblings and I as cash cows. So, enter the Dragon...Lady.

The Age of Sagittarius

2009-08-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

I was always a shy girl growing up. I had a lot to say but I never found my voice beyond paper. I was always afraid to speak up and speak out. I kept quiet when my father would beat my mother and this quiet demeanor transcended throughout every facet of my life.

My mother was not deep into astrology by any means but she entertained herself with it now and again. She had a little wooden plaque that was an Ode to Sagittarius hung in a corner of our basement. She and I shared this unique sign. The plaque listed the attributes of the Sagittarian but there was one word that I wasn’t familiar with – candid. I quickly grabbed my children’s dictionary and looked it up as I always would when I came across a word I didn’t know. When I read the meaning: frank, blunt, outspoken, I said to myself, ‘This is not me.’ So like any inquisitive 10 year old child, I asked my mother, “How come the plaque says Sagittarians are supposed to be candid and I’m not?” My mother smiled at me and said, as you get older, you will grow into your Sagittarian self. So from that moment I looked forward to being more outstpoken, blunt, frank, candid. It would take a few years after my mom died before I found a voice and started to ‘grow into my Sagittarian self’. This transition came about as a result of being pushed to the limit though.

Living with my grandmother was a blessing and disaster. I was so very grateful that my siblings and I were not put in foster care and we were able to stay together as a family. But on the other side, my grandmother’s house was where my siblings and I learned what full on adversity felt like. My grandmother was 64 years old and living in her four bedroom home with her husband and relatives who were tenants in the basement. I guess all the space prompted the Child Welfare Services to back off and the State of New York to award my grandmother as our legal guardian. Like I said, I was very grateful for my grandmother, after all, she took us in even when my father’s family, with the exception of one, wanted nothing to do with us. I was very grateful, so much so, I stomached a lot of the ill treatment.

My sister, brother and I were like pets left in a will by a deceased owner to people who were allergic to us. I say people because my mother’s two sisters and five brothers were in our lives just as much as our grandmother was. We really tried to be as quiet and helpful and out of sight as children who have just lost their mother to the hands of their father could be, but that was not good enough. Our grandmother always found something about us to complain about. When she would complain, it would revolve around my sister and I not helping her out with house work. When we would try to pick up a broom or a mop, we would get the same comments; “Put that down. You don’t know what you’re doing.” Or “I just cleaned that, what are you doing?” I think my grandmother just needed something to complain about. We were like her sounding board and why not, her child, her first daughter was murdered by our father and we were a constant reminder of that. Worst yet, my little sister resembled my father and she would always be reminded of how much she looked like him and acted like him. I was very close to my father growing up so my grandmother would always tell me how I loved my father more than I loved my mother. She even told me that I’m the reason why my mother died because instead of calling the police that night, I called her. I blamed myself for my mom’s death for years to come because of my grandmother’s statements.

My grandmother’s husband or step-grandfather, when he wasn’t taking his daily walk to the local OTB, he spent most of his time sitting in front of a tiny black and white television in one corner of the kitchen, watching us and sucking his teeth at us every time we passed by. He would throw his little discouraging comments at us now and then. Once I tried my inexperienced hand at cooking and my step-grandfather got up from his chair that imprinted his gluteus maximus and slid his slippered feet towards me as if to throw something in the garbage just so he could see what I was doing. He looked into my boiling pot, looked at me and laughed this condescending laugh. I asked him what was wrong. He told me smiling, “You don’t know what you’re doing. Why don’t you get out of the kitchen.”

This is how it was on a regular basis but everyday was worst than the one before. I used to privately call my grandmother the first World-wide web or the prototype to the World-wide web because no one could contact as many people in so short a time as my grandmother’s speedy fingers would as she dialed numbers when she had a piece of juicy gossip. Her complaints reached the far ends of the earth. Then my sister and I, being the eldest, would hear about it from our aunts and uncles and elders in the congregation of Jehovah’s Witnesses that we attended. The aunts and uncles would come on the phone without question, yelling at me. They seemed to be the Borg from Star Trek as they all had the same things to say in order -“Why are you treating my mother like this?! You guys are so ungrateful! You could be living on the streets if it wasn’t for my mother…!” I would stay quiet as they spewed their spiel. My sister on the other hand was always outspoken. From the beginning when we would be attacked, she would be ready for war, equaling and surpassing their boisterousness with her loud voice. She seemed to have no fear and she was my sibling by 8 years. I always admired this fearlessness about her.

The calls would usually come back to back and I would usually sit there quietly listening, guilty for just existing. Then one day at the age of 17 I couldn’t take it anymore. My grandmother called me to the phone in the kitchen where she and her husband sat at either end of the table to speak to one of my uncles. She had this accomplished smile on her face as usual and my step-grandfather was one second away from pulling out virtual popcorn for the show. Of course I knew what kind of call this was. I took the rotary phone receiver from her and before I could say ‘hello’ properly, the yelling and the accusations started flying towards me. I surprised myself when I raised my voice slightly and authoritatively and said, “I’m seventeen years old. I’m not a child anymore. When you can learn to respect me and lower your voice when speaking to me, then we can talk. Other than that, this conversation is over.” Then I hung up the rotary phone and walked away. My audience was dumbfounded. They were fortunate enough to witness the moment I grew into my Sagittarian self.

The Run Away

2009-07-16T14:13:00.000-07:00

I was seven years old when I decided that I couldn’t take it anymore. ‘It?’ you may ask. The constant fighting, the blow ups, the tip toeing on egg shells knowing that a flare up was going to occur but not knowing when exactly. I had enough.

One Saturday morning I woke up and saw that no one was home. I went into each room calling for mommy and daddy but they were no where to be found. I became anxious. What I didn’t know was that my father had dropped my mother off to work, hoping I wouldn’t wake up until he returned. My mother worked in the dietary department in a Nursing Home in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. Her shifts were 6am – 1pm or 11am – 7pm or sometimes both if she wanted to be paid double time. This particular morning she worked the 6am shift thus the reason why they were gone so early.

Be that as it may, I saw this as an opportunity to just leave. Leave all the stress of having to experience my mother’s grunts and screams and my father’s relentless blows to her torso. For the most part, he would beat her in that area and now I realize this was so that there would be no visible signs of abuse. As I mentioned before, I used to write myself into my stories while the fighting would happen so as to magically beam myself into another world. But sometimes, this wasn’t enough.

This is why I loved school so much. School was the only place I would feel at ease and feel wanted and praised for my good grades. No one knew what I had to endure before I came to school and at the end of the day. And I wasn’t going to let anyone know what was going on at home. I was very ashamed. So I had a smile on my face all throughout the day everyday. It wasn’t a painted on smile. My smile was real because I was really happy at school. I remember one day, one of my classmates stopped me and said, “I wish I was like you. You’re always so happy.” If she only knew.

So here I was, packing this red tote one of my aunts gave me with a picture of all the flags of the world in the front, arranged like the flags at the United Nations building in the City. I can’t remember what I placed in the bag, but knowing me, it was extra clothing. I zipped it up, put on my jacket and walked out the first door of our apartment. I didn’t know where I was going. All I knew was that I was leaving this place. As I walked down the dark hallway toward the second and last door with my U.N. bag in my hand almost dragging the floor, I started to hear a fiddling at the locks. I stopped in my tracks. The door opened, steadily spilling in morning sunlight. My father looked at me perplexed as he pulled his key out of the lock. “Where are you going?”
I stared at him with doe eyes and silence. The silence lasted for a good couple of seconds. He then locked the door and simply led me back inside and not a word was said about it ever again.

All children in abusive households feel imprisoned as I did. Many run away like I almost did but then they become victims of abuse on the streets, be it as a member of a gang, as a prostitute, a drug abuser etc. It is such a sad circle and for this reason I want to help these children who seem to be forgotten by society to know that they have a place they can go to for help. This is why I have joined with the Purple Ribbon Council to head up a support group for children who have lost their parent(s) to domestic abuse called the “Butterfly Club” in Brooklyn, New York. My hope is that the pilot program is so successful, that it is adopted in every city in the U.S. until there is no more need.

Sometimes I wonder how long I would have lasted on the street as a skinny 7 year old carrying a bright red bag around. I know I wouldn't have gotten far.

Diamonds in the Street

2009-07-15T12:27:00.000-07:00

One fall morning, I trekked to school down my usual route. With my huge back pack bopping against my back, I knew I would be there in less than ten minutes since I only lived three blocks away. As I turned the corner I saw something amazing. The street up ahead was sparkling in the soft morning sunlight. I had to find out what was causing this so I hurried to get closer. Lo and behold my 7 year old eyes saw diamonds; hundreds of diamonds littered all over the street. What I didn’t know was that this phenomenon was really the remnants of a very bad accident that must have occurred early that morning or the night before. A few cars drove by and I thought they must not be seeing what I am seeing or else they would be jumping out of their cars, taking as many as they could. I peered sneakily to my left and then to my right to make sure no one would see me. Then with quick precision, I picked up a handful of the diamonds and pushed them in my pockets.

I didn’t tell any of my friends or my teacher what I found that morning just in case they would try to take them from me. I went through the entire day, day dreaming about my mom’s reaction when she would see the diamonds I found in the street. I knew she would be sooooo happy and all I wanted was for my mother to be happy.

When I got home, I ran to my mom and pulled out my treasures, holding them in both hands with a big, accomplished smile on my face.

“Look Mommy! Look what I found?!”

Without thinking, she immediately knocked them out of my hand and on to the floor.

“What are you doing with that glass in your hands?!” She scolded me.

“But they’re diamonds..”

“It’s glass not diamonds! Don’t’ ever pick things up from the street again!”

My happy bubble burst. I really thought in my 7 year old mind that when she saw the diamonds, she would bear hug me and be overwhelmed with absolute joy. I thought that with the diamonds, my mother would finally be able to buy a house where we would live happily ever after.

As a mom, I understand my mother’s immediate concern. She just wanted to protect me from getting hurt and I just wanted to do exactly what all children in violent households want to do – protect the abused parent from getting hurt by making everything better. I saw this stroke of luck of finding diamonds in the street as the key to my mom’s true happiness. Although she said they were glass, I still believed them to be diamonds, so for several nights, I would stare at them in bed before I would drift away to sleep.

A Dragonfly At My Window

2009-07-08T07:34:00.000-07:00

I know I am tardy in relaying this experience to you but as late as I am, this is very timely and inspiring. Father’s day usually brings dread to me and my family and especially this year because my father was officially released from prison two days before. So I tried to make the day a special day, to offset the negativity. I invited a few relatives over for dinner. That morning, my sister showed up unexpectedly. My daughters and I invited her to go out with us as we shopped for a last minute gift for their dad. My sister’s favorite past time is shopping so we were on. I jumped in the shower, turned the water on, then I heard a loud collective gasp coming from everyone. I didn’t really pay it any mind. I thought it was the usual kiddie antics going on. Then my older daughter ran into the bathroom. “Mommy! You have to see this! A dragonfly!” “A dragonfly? What dragonfly?” She continued. “There is a dragonfly on the window in the living room. You have to come see it!”

“I just stepped in the shower sweetie. I’ll come to see it when I’m done”. I said thinking that it would most certainly fly away by the time I was finished. So I took my time and lathered and showered, got dressed and waltzed into the living room. To my surprise, the dragon fly was still there and my sister and the children were going about their regular business, watching t.v. etc. as if it weren’t there.

“Oh my God. Do you see that dragonfly?!” I said stunned and pointing. The dragonfly was resting on the outside of the window netting, its large greenish iridescent, translucent wings outstretched and its long blue body relaxed. It was the biggest dragonfly I have ever seen.

“That’s what we were trying to tell you.” My sister and my older daughter said.

“Maybe it’s stuck on a web.” I said trying to explain why this dragonfly has been perched outside my window for such a long time. About 25 minutes passed and it didn’t look as if it was leaving anytime soon. And to top it off, it was such a windy day and my apartment being on the top floor of the building, usually got the worst of the whipping winds. I thought for sure it was stuck.

“No it’s not.” My sister said nonchalantly. “We already checked. It’s just looking at us.” And it sure did with those big bulging eyes. I walked closer to it, examining it.

“What does a dragonfly symbolize?” I asked. My sister jumped onto my computer in a flash and surfed the web. Apparently in the Western world, it is looked upon as a bad omen.

“Let’s go to the East.” I said, “They should be more enlightening.”

My sister read on. “In China, the dragonfly is looked upon as good luck. They are a sign that water is near and they are also a sign of renewal after a hard tribulation.”

“That’s it! Oh my God, Renewal after a hard tribulation. That’s it!”

This was a tremendous moment. Like a break in the invisible barrier between knowing and unknowing. Could this dragonfly have been sent as a sign to let my sister and I know that although our father has been released from prison for murdering our mother, this is now the time for renewal? It seemed so fitting that this dragonfly, arrayed in all its beauty, found rest at my window for my children, my sister and I to see on the morning of Father’s Day. It was too meaningful to be coincidence.

We all did some last minute things before we were ready to leave and like a constant friend, that dragonfly stayed on the window until we left. My father’s release initially brought on a deep anger that permeated my being, distracting me at work, at home with my children and it even caused unnecessary tension in my personal life. It gave me headaches, and bodily stress aches that was reminiscent of my tumultuous childhood. But this visit from this striking dragonfly really made me rethink what I was doing to myself. It made me see the need to move on from my chasm of debilitating anger- my hard tribulation to a spring of Renewal. I know that I will probably relapse a little but at least I’m on the right road. Thank you Dragonfly.

The Letter in My Random Thought Circle

2009-06-23T10:12:00.000-07:00

I spent part of my father's day trying to write a letter to keep my father from being released to a parole officer on U.S. soil. A judge will make the final decision as to whether he should stay here or be deported to his country of birth. I am for deportation. Why should he be allowed to enjoy life in America? Life right now is hard in the U.S. but its even more difficult in his country of birth so I think he should go back to whence he came. So then, why is it so hard for me to write this letter?

I realize I am putting a lot of pressure on myself to write the most compelling letter ever written in scribal history. I feel that my letter will be that defining thing, being that I am the oldest child. So I must write it in a way so that it will influence the most unwavering judge. So it has been two days and I have not written anything of substance yet. I stepped back today just to try to figure this out. Yes, I want him to be deported. Yes, I am mad as hell that he is being released from jail for killing my mom-a crime that feels like it happened yesterday. And yes, I hate reliving all of the turmoil I witnessed as a child, living with my parents.

I realize that I am putting off writing this letter because I am afraid it won't be good enough. But hey, I'm not writing a dissertation. But I feel, once again, that all the pressure is on my shoulders to write the best emotionally tugging letter that will influence the immigration judge. I'm writing my thoughts, my experiences, my feelings which hold weight for me so why not the judge. Sometimes I just really want to forget that my father ever existed. But then I would have to forget that my mom existed and then I would have to forget about my existence. Do you see the confusion? My mother, my father-they are both a part of me. Regardless of the pain my father has exacted upon me, he has contributed to my existence. He is my only surviving parent and I have not seen him in over 16 years. The child in me yearns for a daddy but the adult in me has to write him off as dead.

Crazy enough, my father did show me love. I was like his little princess. Anything I wanted, he would give me. I didn't ask for much so he would give me more than I ever wanted. He used to drive me around, touring the city, giving me a lesson about the historical significance of each building. He would always send me birthday and Christmas cards in the mail and have a birthday cake with my favorite pineapple filling waiting for me when I came home from school. He never laid a hand on me to hit me ever but he was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Although he never hurt me physically, he destroyed me emotionally as he hurt my mother over and over again. So really, is that love?

He really messed up a life that could have been wonderful. But anyway, I think this blog could be the letter I have been avoiding. Hmmmmm.

My Epiphany

2009-06-18T10:02:00.000-07:00

rubiks cube by Eskimuffin

Two days ago, while speaking with my friend and founder of the"Purple Ribbon Council", Donna Bartos, I had an epiphany. I always thought that victims of Domestic Abuse unhealthily used their children as a crutch- the reason they can not leave the abusive situation. Now I realize, that is not always the case. My "aha" moment was when I realized that my mother really did not want to get a divorce solely because of my siblings and I.

When my mother would threaten to get a divorce, I do remember my father saying to her that if she ever tried to leave him, he would get custody of us and she would never see us again.

When he was out on bail for an entire year, before he was convicted of manslaughter for my mom's death, my father did try to gain custody of all of us. When he found out that my sister and I were set to testify against him, he switched his interest solely to my little 3 year old brother. Let's not forgot when he kidnapped me from school at the age of 6 and told my mother that if she didn't return home to him, she would never see me again. All of this shows that he did have the audacity to fight for custody of us, even in the face of being convicted for the murder of our mother.

In my mom's mind, she was protecting us, with her life so she endured the abuse. But although it made sense and felt right like the face of a Rubik's cube that appears to be perfectly aligned with 9 blue squares, the other 5 sides were all jumbled up. I wonder if my mother thought of what would happen to us, her children, when she died?

$100 dollar bills

2009-06-15T12:56:00.001-07:00

I always knew that one of my parents would die by the hands of the other. So from the age of 7, I would pretend now and then, that one of them died and I would go through the motions of extreme grief and sadness. My imagination would actually put me there, in the funeral parlor, as if my mom or dad was in the coffin, dead. I would cry and cry and the despair would envelope me until it stopped. Sounds sick, I know. But I actually made the conscious resolve in my head as a young child that I would prepare my mind for the inevitable so that when it did happen, it wouldn't hurt so much.

How did I know one of my parents would die by the hands of the other? It wasn't mathematics. They fought constantly, with my father having the upper hand always. Actually, my mother would be trying to defend herself from the physical blows my father would plague her body with. Her skin would become raised with big red blotches everywhere. And her eyes would be filled with tears that welled up but never trickled out, at least not for me to see. Shame was written all over my mom's face as she looked at me everytime my father would finish beating her.

When I was 6, we moved from a 2nd floor apartment in a two family house to the basement of another two family house one block away. I hated this place because it was dark and the windows were so little, I couldn't even climb out of them if I wanted to. So there was hardly any sunlight and the walls were 70's plywood panels. No matter how much my mom cleaned, the place would always smell like a garage, damp and rocky. Anyway, at this home of ours, this was the first time my mother showed me an envelope filled with $100 dollar bills (I can't remember how many exactly but it was a thick envelope) and told me, "I am putting this envelope under my mattress. If anything happens to me, take it and go to your grandmother's house".

I was either 7 or 8 at the time and I knew exactly what she meant by "If anything happens to me...", so I just shook my head in agreement. Back then, it felt chilling but normal. But now I wonder, How the hell can $100 bills compensate for the loss of my mother? What was she thinking? But she wasn't thinking. My mom was feeling; feeling pure desperation, knowing that her life was on the line every single day.

I want everyone in abusive relationships, situations to understand that they can get help. There are many programs that can help you regardless of how trapped you may feel, such as the ones listed to the left of this passage. There is no reason for anyone to live in fear of their life. Save your children, save yourselves!

The next time we moved, it was into a house. My parents bought a beautiful 3 bedroom home with a huge backyard, cute front lawn and a full basement. I was 10 at this time and my mom came to me again and showed me a thick envelope full of $100 bills and said, "If anything happens to me, take this, okay." Somehow I thought that moving into this house was going to mean change for the better. Maybe, I thought, my father would stop beating my mother and we could be like those families on t.v. But when my mother came to me with the same low, secretive voice (although my father was out somewhere) and showed me that envelope again, this time with even more $100 bills, I sighed insided my soul and realized, we weren't transitioning to a better place at all. I said, "Okay mommy". Then she stuffed it underneath the carpet in her bedroom by the closet door in the corner. Six years later, when my father finally killed my mom, I totally forgot about the envelope filled with $100 bills. I was only concerned about saving myself and my little brother and sister.

Parole

2009-06-10T06:56:00.000-07:00

Okay. Let the countdown begin. In nine days my father will be released from prison after serving only 16 years and 4 months for murdering my mother. The legal system, when it comes to domestic abuse situations, is hideous. He wasn't even legally charged for murder. How sick is that? He was charged with a lesser crime, manslaughter in the first degree.

On the day of the trial, my little sister and I experienced an emotional breakdown, for lack of a better term, as we were being escorted down the hallway to take the stand against our father. I knew that my little sister watched everything that I did and said. Whatever my actions were, my little sister followed suit. I was basically her mother-figure. I tried really hard to be as strong as I could be during that year that my father was out on bail before the trial. I had alot of pressure on me as the eldest child of three. My grandmother even blamed me for my mother's death for a time because I called her that night instead of the police (as though that would have made a difference). I took the blame and punishment and pain like a trooper until the day of the trial. Our child psychologists prepped us for weeks for this day. All of the prepping in the world could not prepare me to face my father who I had not seen in a year; a father that beat my mother for the last time that night, pulling out her hair and even throwing my sister against the wall in our basement as she tried to save our mother; a father whose hands were drenched in my mother's blood, fingerprints on the walls leading from the basement to the first floor; a father whom my intuition told me was contemplating getting rid of me and my siblings that night as well.

As I stepped out of the room with the psychologists and my sister, walking down the dark grey, speckled hall felt like walking up the steep walls of Mount Everest. The reality of facing my father in a matter of minutes smacked me in my face. I ran back a few feet to the room we left and held on to the door posts with all my strength. I really lost my mind for a moment. No one would force me to go on the stand but my reflexes, my body, felt that holding on to a door post would be the best way to protect myself. My sister followed and held on to me tightly. All the while we were bawling our brains out. I kept screaming, "I dont' want to go! I don't want to go!" over and over again.

When word reached my father's lawyer, he propositoned him to change his "not guilty" plea to guilty so as to save us the trauma of testifying against him. My father did as his lawyer advised. The judge then charged him with manslaughter in the first degree which carried the sentence of 7 1/4 - 25 years. After serving 7 1/4 years, he would be eligible for a paroled release. (Every two years when he was eligible for parole, my family and I testified to the board to have him stay in and we were successful every time. But June 19th is his 'early release date' and because of 'good behavior' he has to be released).

After my sister and I calmed down, I asked to sit in the back of the court to hear the judge's decree. My father, placed in hand cuffs was then allowed to speak as long as he wanted before being escorted to prison. Well, no one in that room knew my father as well as I did. Giving my father license to speak was like releasing the floodgates of the heavens in Noah's day. My father was a debater. Most of the time, his views were ludicrous but he would argue them to a pulp. He was a cocky, haughty, know-it-all that always had to have the last say. So here he was on center stage in the courtroom, mad as hell.

He started going on and on and on and on about how he was tricked by his lawyer to plead guilty although he didn't murder my mom. He spoke of his civil rights being abused, yada yada yada. The judge actually interjected and equally angry, blasted my father for his arrogance. I remember the judge saying correctly that now he sees that my father is maniacal and calculating and no doubt he planned the murder. He said if he knew of his character before hand, he would have given him the maximum sentence. Hellooooooooooooo! His character? He's a MURDERER. What more do you need to know? Anyway, my father was then thrown out of the courtroom and escorted out with officers, all chained up.

As it stands today, I am happy to say that I have no fear of my father. I actually have no fear of any human beings. I refuse to. I don't know my father. I don't know if he has changed. I don't care if he has changed. For all I know, he could have a vendetta against me but I really don't care and I'm really not afraid. This even surprises me and it is such a pleasant surprise. I went through too much in my life to have fear of another human being. He is supposed to be deported to his country of birth at release but as I inquired, this can be overturned by the immigration judge. My father married an American woman some years ago while in jail. I'm sure his intention was to use this as a reason why he should be made to stay in the United States. I was going to work hard to ensure that he would be deported but I feel liberated to just let the elements take their course in this situation. Whether he stays in the U.S. or not, I really don't care. I just don't think he should ever have the privilege of ever being in the lives of the children that he orphaned by taking our mother away.

Its All Good TV - My Domestic Violence Segment

2009-06-01T18:08:00.000-07:00

Itsallgoodtv interview with domestic advocate Ms. Nicole Sharpe monday night 10pm ch.67 Bcat.tv network ch.67 timewarner 34

World-Wide Streaming On the Internet http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LmJjYXQudHYvYmNhdC9kZWZhdWx0LmFzcHRoaXM=

Watch BCAT LIVE online:

BCAT 1 TimeWarner Cable Channel 34/Cablevision 67/ RCN 82/ Verizon 42

BCAT 2 TimeWarner Cable Channel 35/Cablevision 68/ RCN 83/ Verizon 43

BCAT 3 TimeWarner Cable Channel 56/Cablevision 69/ RCN 84/ Verizon 44

ITSALLGOOD TV Monday, June 1st @10pmChannels 34 Time Warner and 67 Cablevision in Brooklyn

Join us as we take a closer look at domestic violence advocate Ms. Nicole Sharpe.

If you are not in Brooklyn or don't have cable, stream it on your computer on June 1st, 2009 @ 10pm Bcat.tvGo to www. briconline. org/bcat - Scroll down the home page and under the "Program Schedule" click on"BCAT 1 Time Warner Cable Channel 34/Cablevision 67"

Well, we’ve added yet another way for you to watch Brooklyn Independent Television—on iTunes. If you are one of the millions of Americans that use iTunes to download music and movies, you’re probably familiar with their vast podcast library. Now Brooklyn Independent Television is pleased to announce that it’s added 10 of its programs to the iTunes podcast library. You can subscribe and download your favorite episodes of Brooklyn Independent Television to watch on your laptop, your personal computer or on your iPod or iPhone.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the show!!Please contact me at mills2006@gmail.com

Terrence Mills-Executive Producer/Itsallgood tv

Assembly Passes Domestic Violence Legislation

2009-04-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
April 27, 2009

Package protects victims from discrimination, provides privacy
Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver and Judiciary Committee Chair Helene Weinstein today announced the house's passage of a legislative package aimed at protecting victims of domestic violence. These measures were passed in conjunction with National Crime Victims Week, April 26-May 2.

The legislative package includes bills that prohibit discriminatory practices against victims of domestic violence in regards to housing (A.1055/Destito) and in the workplace (A.755/Paulin). Another measure allows domestic violence victims to take an unpaid leave of absence from work for up to 90 days within a 12 month period to address the myriad of issues surrounding a domestic violence situation, without fear of losing their job (A. 438B/John).
"Domestic violence is the number one cause of injury to women in the United States, and as more families are affected by this economic downturn, we hear of more incidents of violence in the home," said Silver (D-Manhattan). "We have a duty to protect those seeking refuge and protection against their aggressors. This legislative package helps us fulfill that duty, by protecting victims from discrimination and protecting their privacy as they begin the long process of recovery."

Nationally, attacks by male partners against their female intimate partners result in more injuries requiring medical treatment than muggings, rapes and auto accidents combined. The National Domestic Violence Hotline reports a significant increase in calls, with half of callers admitting a recent change in the family’s financial situation.

"Victims of domestic violence often suffer long term physical and emotional consequences requiring medical and counseling services as a result of domestic violence perpetrated against them. Many women stay with their abusers because they lack various resources including alternative financial resources for themselves and their children to address a range of obstacles facing them as a result of the abuse," said Weinstein (D-Brooklyn). "These measures are a step in the right direction as they provide protection for victims against discrimination in the workplace and when looking for housing, and secure address confidentiality, to help them provide stability and safety as they beging to rebuild their lives."

This package also includes bills that protect the privacy of domestic violence victims, with measures that allow for victims to keep their location private (A.2858A/Weinstein) and provide unlisted telephone numbers at no cost for victims, (A.6509/Rivera,N).

Other bills in this legislative package would:
Require the judge in a criminal or family court proceeding to inquire about firearm ownership (A.4320A/O’Donnell);
Allow certain inmates found guilty of a crime against their abuser to be granted merit time allowances if they were victims of physical, sexual or psychological abuse and if the crime was an act of retribution (A.4516B/Weinstein);
Permit victims to recover non-economic and economic damages from those found liable for the domestic violence (A.5516/John);
Excludes time served from being counted toward the duration of an order of protection in misdemeanor cases (A.5705/Weinstein); and
Prohibit domestic violence perpetrators from lawfully possessing a firearm (A.7575A/Lancman).
New York State Assembly[ Welcome Page ] [ Press Releases]

GIRLS NIGHT OUT!

2009-04-25T03:37:00.000-07:00

Anyone out there who has been reading this blog knows that my father shot my mother to death in the presence of me and my two siblings and attempted but failed to murder us as well. Presently, I have come to a good place in my adult life where I can now use my life experience to help others. 2009 is the first year that Domestic Violence Awareness Month is in May. Last year, when it fell in October, I came upon a great nationwide movement that celebrates survivors of domestic abuse and the power of women to band together to Support, Benefit and Empower! The 'Purple Ribbon Council to Cut Out Domestic Abuse' is a non-profit organization set up to Break the Silence of Domestic Violence, Break the Cycle and Save Lives.

Every first Thursday of Domestic Violence Awareness Month, The Purple Ribbon Council hosts a creative fundraising event held simultaneously in various cities across the U.S. The venue is a salon and spa environment and thus, the event is called, "Girls Night Out To Cut Out Domestic Abuse". You get to enjoy a salon/spa experience of your choice at a discounted rate, great food, raffles, a silent auction etc. and the funds go to very worthy non-profit organizations that are soldiers in the fight to eradicate thi silent epidemic of Domestic Abuse such as The Purple Ribbon Council for Children and Cut It Out-Salons Against Domestic Abuse. Since the event I am hosting is in Brooklyn, New York, most of the allocations will go to a local beneficiary. In this case, the beneficiary is "Sanctuary for Families"- New York's largest non-profit set up to aid women and their families who are victims of Domestic Violence. http://www.sanctuaryforfamilies.org/

Although the world is in economic turmoil, I believe in the power of the human spirit to make a difference regardless of the odds. Already I am receiving a large outpouring of volunteer support that really brings joy to my heart and renews my confidence in human beings. I really wish these great organizations existed in full force when my mom was alive. Who knows, maybe she would be here with my siblings and I today. So we have to make sure that they stay in operation.

My mother was a woman who always gave of herself to charities. She had the biggest heart of anyone that I know to date. The world lost a really great woman who no doubt would still be using her life today to help change the world. Let's all use our lives to be the change that we want to see. If you would like to attend, the details of Brooklyn's Girl's Night Out event are below.

DATE: Thursday, May 7th 2009

TIME: 5:00pm - 9:00pm

PLACE: EMPIRE BEAUTY SCHOOL

2384 86th Street and 24th Avenue

Brooklyn, New York

To buy tickets or to make a donation, please go to http://www.gnousa.org/ and click on the Tickets tab.

*If you would like to have a Girl's Night Out event in your city or town, please refer to the website above as well.

Thank you lovely people for your support!

Early Release

2009-03-23T04:00:00.000-07:00

I just received official notice from the Parole Board that my father will be released from prison on June 19th 2009. After serving 16 years of his 7 1/4 - 25 year sentence for murdering my mother, he will soon enjoy an early conditional release because of good behavior. Of course my father would be on his best behavior. There was no woman for him to abuse while in prison. I see men who beat women as very, very weak individuals. Inside, they know they are weak but instead of trying to change this, the best way in their minds to make it up is by getting angry and showing their machismo by either finding a weaker woman (if the woman is not completely weak, they pummel her until she is manageable) and punishing her. When a woman cries and begs and pleads for him to stop beating her, raping her etc., this gives the abuser more "power".

The official letter from the Parole Board states that my father will be released to a parole officer. A parole officer? My family and I made sure that my father was put on the immigration deportation list and for years we were told that upon release, he would be automatically placed in a detention center where he would await a plane ride back to his country of birth. So I called the Parole Board who referred me to U.S. Immigration. The immigration officer was quite helpful but when he told me that my father's fate, whether he would be deported or not, rests with immigration I just shook my head. All these years that my family and I were trekking to parole board hearings every two years, we made sure to have my father's information looked up to make sure he was still on the deportation list. And now there is a possibility that he may remain in the United States?

The immigration rep. took my contact information and said he will send me two forms to fill out and return so that I would be updated on my father's status. I await those forms.

For the first time, now that the reality of my father's release is staring me in the face, I am not scared. I have been released from my fear of him and it feels liberating! I just want to forget that he exists. If I see him, that would remind me that he does. I want him to live the rest of his life in his little corner of the world knowing that he can never see his children again in the flesh. My siblings and I were robbed of a loving mother. He should be robbed of us.

Rihanna and Chris Brown Revisited

2009-03-11T10:04:00.000-07:00

Hello again everyone. I have not neglected the huge Rihanna/Chris Brown story. I know that everyone has voiced their opinions on this subject in all facets of media. Although Rihanna's situation is unfortunate, fortunately it lends a forum for Domestic Violence to be spoken about on a broad scale for people of all ages, especially tweens and teenagers who idolize the two performers.

Should a woman or man who is struck by their significant other continue the relationship hopeful that he or she will not hit them again? Oprah Winfrey has been criticized for adamantly proclaiming on her show that, "... a man who hits a woman will hit her again!" Some people on her forum have even stated that she is being extremely judgemental. I say that Oprah is right on the money. These people who are criticizing her comment have never been exposed to domestic violence. They are fortunate to have never experienced it but we all don't need to be exposed to terrorist acts to realize that terrorists will stop at nothing to get their point (whatever it may be in their warped minds) across. What I am trying to say is, if you have not been privy to the outworkings of Domestic Violence, educate yourself. We all need to know why Domestic Violence exists and what the signs of Domestic Abuse are and how a victim of Domestic Violence can escape.

To all those who think that we shouldn't get involved in Chris Brown and Rihanna's business or the business of any other couple who is experiencing Domestic Violence, please pay attention to this next line. Domestic Violence is a Societal Issue. The breakdown of family is the pre-requisite to the breakdown of our community and thus our country. The great empire of Rome which annihilated its enemies, implemented the most effective war tactics and instituted a government that is still in effect as the blueprint for the powerful governments of the Western world today, stood the test of time until one element completely eroded at their culture and eventually caused its fall-The breakdown of the family unit.

The family unit is so crucial that it can make or break an entire empire and thus the world. Domestic Violence is a poison that will destroy families if it is allowed to continue. This is why we as citizens need to step in. Now that doesn't mean that we should just throw ourselves into the middle of a dispute. There are many many organizations set up to help the victim and the abuser, such as UNIFEM and Safe Horizon. To the left of this article, you will notice a column of links to various helpful resources.

Back to Rihanna and Chris Brown. Sadly, Rihanna is back with her abuser, sending a message to him that she is his property under his control and sending a message to tweens and teenagers who look up to them that its okay for their boyfriends and girlfriends to hit them, push them etc. now and again. An ovewhelming number of young women were already in abusive relationships before Chris Brown's public attack of Rihanna. By the way, Rihanna admitted to police that this was not the first time he struck her. It's so sad. Can you imagine how many young girls will now use Rihanna and Chris Brown as a crutch to justify staying with their abuser?

I really wish that Rihanna would read this post or get some kind of help from some where. She doesn't realize that as time goes by and Brown spirals more out of control, she will be following along with him as his little punching bag. I believe that when Domestic Violence situations are left alone long enough to grow and fester, they will most definately end up in death. I am unfortunately speaking from experience.

Religion is like Candy

2009-02-27T07:41:00.000-08:00

Candy One by Diana Cretu-DeviantArt.com

Religion is like candy. The way that it’s wrapped determines who will eat it. If I like shiny silver wrappings, I will go after the candy wrapped in silver. If you prefer multi-colored wrappings, you will grab that. But then there are some people who are like children in that they’ll just simply eat anything as long as it's sweet. Presentation is everything and the reason why I bring this up is because the Jehovah’s Witness religion (which they say is not “a” religion but the “one true” religion) was presented to my sister and I in the most appealing wrapping we had ever seen. It promised that we would see our mother in a paradise on Earth. She would be resurrected from her sleep when God awakens all those in their memorial tombs. Now this may very well be so, but the fine print was the key. The only way we would be able to see her is if we became part of and followed along the lines of Jehovah God’s only organization on Earth. Of course that would be the Jehovah’s Witness religion with its many rules and regulations. We were taught and believed that the rules and regulations really weren’t burdensome but were for our benefit, protecting us from Satan’s world and the harm that it would exact upon us, being that we, as Jehovah’s Witnesses, were Satan’s number one target. All my little sister and I cared about was seeing our mother again and at that point, we would do whatever it took to do so. Thus we started our Bible studies.
I will be speaking about my experience with JW’s (Jehovah’s Witnesses for short) because they played a major role in my life as I lived as a baptized Witness for a decade. It is important that people in abusive relationships with children see how unprotected and opened to the world and its many vices their children will be if they died at the hands of their abuser. I am just sharing my experience as a girl who was orphaned when my father killed my mother after years of abuse. I was very much an open field to the world and most of the confusion I endured was at the hands of my extended family and Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Sister P, the wife of the Presiding Overseer who studied with my grandmother, was a very stern woman who walked painfully upright and looked as if she was in anguish every time she smiled. Smiling and looking happy is a must for all Witnesses because to the world, they should always appear be the happiest people on Earth since they are, in their words, God’s chosen people. Also, “worldly people” should be attracted to the Jehovah’s Witness religion when noticing how sterling and jovial they are in comparison to the rest of the ailing world. Anyway, I wanted to share one of my latest poems with Sister P. I was very shy as a child and didn’t share my poems with everyone. Sharing one of my poems with someone was sharing a piece of me, a piece of my soul. The poem is entitled, “Valley of My Eye”. It was born out of the utter sadness I felt losing my mother and the continuous struggle to stay afloat without her.

Valley of my Eye
I took a trip, up a mountain, the highest
Steep was its full mass
Dents, chasms the wretched I topped
I bathed in glory at last

But behold an abyss, depth and width
As spacious as the sky
Where solid fog stayed still and slept
Valley of my eye

Grassy green half staffed and stunted
Grief’s whirlwind now loom
But look I saw another pang
Black roses in full bloom

Weeping willows stood their ground
Robins lost their soft song
Salty streams of tears came forth
Why do they flow so long?

And then a tremor shook the earth
A godly sight to see
My traveling companion, my steps of fear
My mountain majesty

I must climb again, this thing the highest
Echoing one steep cry
To come upon it again, I dread
Valley of my eye

When I finished reading, Sister P began to laugh. And the laughter got louder and more condescending. She then said, “Mountain majesty?”, and started laughing again. My heart sank as I looked at her. I was already in the process of indoctrination so I automatically thought, ‘What did I do wrong?” She told me that only God can have the title of Majesty and then she proceeded to go into her Bible to show me scriptures to back this up. This was a routine that I would be subjected to on a regular basis; having the Bible used as a tool to whip me into shape. Sister P also saw a short story I was writing for school which was set in Ancient Egypt and involved Pharaoh’s and mummies and Egyptian gods and she told me this was an absolute no no. “A Witness of Jehovah can not entertain or be involved in idolatry and essentially false religion.” She said as she pulled out the Bible and in seconds, found the scriptures to back her up. I wanted to do what was right at all times and fit into the religion, (it hurts to even write this) so I severed ties with my best friend that I had since I was 6 years of age. My friend who stuck with me and carried me through the most difficult times of my life – Writing. As I wrote at the very beginning of this blog, writing was my defense mechanism. It was very valuable to me, but if I wanted to see my mother again in the near future, I had to align myself with Jehovah God’s “one true” religion. From that point, I didn’t write as a hobby for ten years straight.

All That Glitters...

2009-02-26T04:55:00.000-08:00

I believe in God. If you have been reading the entries to this blog, you probably noticed all my references to God so that’s a given. But I wasn’t always a believer so to speak. I was raised an atheist by my father. He always told me that god didn’t exist and the concept of god was created to keep men under control. “I am god and you are god”, he would say. He taught me that the Earth wasn’t created but that it came about by chance. I believed all of his philosophy until I was ten. My parents had just finished shopping at “Big R”, a large supermarket (a predecessor of the COSTCO’s and BJ’s) and my mom and I waited on the platform for my father to pull up the car. I looked up at the sky which was a vibrant, aqua-type blue and the full white clouds that floated gently over the blue. It was an ethereal dance. I watched in admiration at this process that is taken for granted by us humans and said to myself, ‘There must be a god’. How could something as amazing and perfect as our atmosphere come about by chance? How could the Earth, so perfect to human life, come about by chance? How could I, so precise in my design come about by chance? From that day on, I believed in God.

I loved to read and I wanted to know what was inside of the much talked about Bible which was said to be from God. My mom bought me a huge brown leathered children’s Bible with illustrations galore. I loved this book. My father saw me delving into it one Saturday and forbid me from reading it again. “If I see you reading this again, I will throw it through the window!” He was a man who carried out his threats so I would hide on the far side of my bedroom underneath the bed by the light of the sun through the window. It sounds like a passage from “Flowers in the Attic”, but it’s true. Both my sister and I would read together.

One Sunday a man and a woman came to our door bringing ‘good news’ about God’s kingdom. They were Jehovah’s Witnesses. I was shocked when my father invited them in. I sat down with my father not knowing where this would go. They spoke a little about Jesus’ teachings and explained how he was sent to Earth to proclaim God’s coming kingdom in the future. To my surprise my father asked questions but I soon found out he was only setting them up to try to catch them in some intellectual trap. He went on to argue with them for over an hour. Debating, really argueing, was one of his past times. He laughed at them, a condescending laugh and tried his darndest to make them look and feel stupid. But the Jehovah's Witnesses continued on the defense, armed with their Bibles and memorized scriptures, they flipped the pages with lightening speed-an onslaught of bullets aimed at my father and his empty reasonings. Then, as time ran away, they started looking at their watches and excused themselves as their other ‘friends’ must be looking for them. They left a book with me called, "Bible Stories for Children" and highlighted a vibrant illustration from the first chapter with Adam and Even and a whole host of animals co-existing. They left me with the thought that I could live forever in a paradise on Earth just like the paradise called Eden that God intended for all humans.

Speeding up two years later, when my sister, brother and I were officially placed with our maternal grandmother, she had not long started studying the Bible with the Jehovah’s Witnesses in her neighborhood. The Presiding Overseer or the main ‘man of the cloth’ in the Kingdom Hall (the Jehovah’s Witness place of worship) and his wife studied with my grandmother and her sister. I will call them Brother and Sister P. Brother and Sister P had an ‘adopted’ daughter (I will go into depth later) who was 9 years older than me. They assigned her to study the Bible with my sister and I. Their wide smiles and overly happy dispositions gave me the creeps at first. Then they gave my sister and I a hope; the hope that we would see our mother again on Paradise on Earth in the near future. They played to the need that my sister and I longed for. Our mother was just killed a couple weeks earlier and this really was ‘good news’ indeed! From this point on, I was hooked. The teachings of Jehovah’s Witnesses, which were spoon fed to me everyday, really seemed to fill that fresh gaping whole in my soul. Everything seemed to glitter, until my eyes started to open...steadily.

TRANSITIONING

2009-02-23T18:22:00.000-08:00

I felt so fortunate to be able to bypass placement in a strange temporary home by the flawed child welfare system. I thanked God for allowing my brother, sister and I to be able to stay together as a family; a broken family but a family none the less. I thanked God for the hand-me-down clothes I received which replaced my own clothes after they could no longer fit me. I didn’t grow out of my clothes, I lost weight rapidly, so they engulfed me. My sister and I wasted away for months after our mother was killed by our father. It was as though we were terminally ill cancer victims on our last leg. Everything my 8 year old sister ate, she vomited. I apologize for the grittiness but my experience is real and this is the best way that I can express myself. Everything I ate came out as well. I had diahrea everyday. I was naturally skinny but at this point, I was unhealthy looking. In high school, my new nickname was “Stick”. More important than looks, my sister and I really were unhealthy. My sister, brother and I developed anemia. This made us more susceptible to diseases that normal immune systems would fight off. The stress of losing both our parents the way we did so suddenly was too much for our bodies to handle. I basically wanted to die.

A preliminary hearing was set by the District Attorney’s office to determine if the case was serious enough to go to trial. Of course the case was serious enough for prosecution. This process was mandatory. The D.A. and the court appointed child psychologist prepped me for the questions that I would be asked as I was on the stand. I remember walking into a drearily lit court room through a side door. I guess that was the door under aged witnesses entered from. Forty-some-odd faces looked annoyed at having to trek to court for jury duty. They stared at me as I climbed up the steps to the chair next to the judge. I was basically swimming in a black sweater with burgundy roses printed all over it. It was more like a sweater dress as it easily reached my knobby knees through my jeans. Over and over again, I kept pulling it up at the neck, adjusting it to not fall over my shoulder.

Although I was prepared, I was terrified. I was asked questions about the happenings that night many times in front of a few people at a time but never a whole room of almost 50 people. The questions started okay. “What is your name?” I answered. ‘Good. One question out of the way.’ I thought. “How old are you?” I answered. ‘Two questions.’ The easy questions kept coming until the D.A. requested, “Please tell the court what happened on November 22nd…” I started recapping the events from the day time until the night, trying my best to robotically hold in my emotions. It didn’t work. It was even a surprise to me when I broke down, crying hysterically. When I spoke of that night, I felt as though my body was there again, reliving the horror. The one person who would have been able to comfort me at this time was dead.

The D.A. asked the judge to allow me to have a moment off the stand to regroup. He granted the request and I was escorted out of the court for about 10-15 minutes. The D.A. and psychologist tried to calm me down but I calmed down on my own in my own time. They promised that I would only be asked one more question. I agreed to enter the courtroom again. I was not expecting what I was about to witness. The entire room of once annoyed faces were all streaming with tears now. Eyes were red and noses were being blown into tissues. I did a double take at everyone as I approached the stand again. I knew that my story was sad but I didn’t know it would evoke so much sadness from strangers.

The last question the D.A. asked me was, “What is today’s date”. I answered quickly so that I could hurry up and get out of that chair. I was one week away from my 16th birthday. This is a time when an adolescent is beginning her transition into young adulthood. Here I was, wishing for my life to be over. I felt like an 80 year old who lived a long and hard life, my thoughts, my memories weighing heavy upon me. I felt old and weak and sickly depressed all the time. This was my transition into a new life; one without parents or anyone who truly loved me or my siblings; one where I was looked upon as unprotected prey to take advantage of; one where I ( with the exception of my siblings) existed alone.

Correlation between Intimate Partner Violence and Certain Facial Injuries

2009-02-12T07:56:00.000-08:00

Otolaryngology resident at SUNY Downstate Medical Center, Behrad Aynehchi, MD, co-authored a study published in the Archives of Facial Plastic Surgery showing that women who are injured by an intimate partner tend to suffer from distinct types of upper facial injuries, while those injured from other causes are more likely to suffer lower facial fractures.
“Women who suffer abuse at the hands of a loved one may not be so quick to talk about it, however, their facial injuries speak volumes.” Newly released research in the January/February issue of Archives of Facial Plastic Surgery, one of the JAMA/Archives journals, shows women who are victims of intimate partner violence tend to have different patterns of facial injury than women who experience facial trauma from other causes.

Temple University facial plastic surgeon Oneida Arosarena, MD, FACS, and her colleagues reviewed six years worth of medical and dental records from 326 women treated for facial trauma at the University of Kentucky Medical Center. Arosarena also saw this type of abuse first hand. 'I remember a patient who suffered a nasal fracture at the hands of her husband,' said Arosarena, an associate professor in the department of Otolaryngology at the School of Medicine. 'I repaired her injuries and social workers found her safe housing, but she still went back to him. That was a very touching case because it wasn't just about fixing someone's facial fracture; it involved social work and a community of health care workers trying to help this woman.'

Stories like these pushed Arosarena to ask her patients difficult questions about their relationships. Those answers, coupled with her team's research, revealed women who are injured by an intimate partner tend to suffer from distinct types of upper facial injuries, while those injured from other causes, such as a car accident or fall, are more likely to suffer lower facial fractures. In other words, brain injuries or breaks around the eye socket and cheekbones would signal intimate partner violence, whereas a broken jaw might not. The findings surprised Arosarena and her co-researchers.
'We fully expected the injuries to be distributed like they are in other traumas, but they weren't.'
Of the 326 women treated for facial trauma, 45 patients were assault victims, including 18 documented victims of intimate partner violence, while 24 of the remaining 26 assault victims could not or did not identify their assailant. Other common causes of injury included car crashes (139 patients), falls (70 patients) and unknown or undocumented causes (35 patients).

Unlike domestic violence, which may be perpetrated by a spouse, sibling or other family member, intimate partner violence is more specifically described as abuse by a spouse or significant other. Experts estimate more than one in four women in this country suffer from intimate partner violence. That figure along with this research has Arosarena hopeful that the particular pattern of injury may tip off doctors when women are being beaten.

'This research will hopefully make first responders and trauma surgeons more aware that there is a correlation between intimate partner violence and certain facial injuries. And we hope it prompts them to ask just how those injuries happened.'

Other authors in the study include Travis Fritsch, MS, Intimate Partner Violence Surveillance Project, Kentucky Injury Prevention and Research Center; Richard Haug, DDS, University of Kentucky; Yichung Hsueh, MD, University of Louisville; and Behrad Aynehcki, MD, State University of New York, Downstate Medical Center.

Outlet: News-Medical.Net

Rihanna and Chris Brown

2009-02-09T19:08:00.000-08:00

There were many ooh's and ah's, exciting moments and disappointments at the Grammy Awards last night, but nothing was more disappointing than the pre-Grammy events starring 20 year old Rihanna and 19 year old Chris Brown. Although both were nominated for 5 awards collectively and were scheduled to perform, neither one showed up forcing last minute fixer-uppers including Justin Timberlake and the legend, Al Green to perform together. The reason: Chris Brown and Rihanna were involved in a domestic violence altercation.

Earlier that morning, Chris and Rihanna can be seen at a Clive Davis event in L.A. looking happy together. But it has been reported that later that evening, when they left together in a car Brown was driving, an argument ensued that got physical. I have read some articles that state that Rihanna now has a bruised face and a bite mark from the incident. After the blow up, Chris Brown fled the seen leaving Rihanna in the car alone. From the car, she called authorities and the hunt was on for Brown. He eventually gave himself up within hours as Rihanna was taken to an area hospital.

A week after Teen Domestic Violence Awareness Week, this unfortunate incident reminds us that Domestic Violence hits all walks of life, all ages, all cultures, all finanical status'. In this day and age, if the allegations are true and they seem more true than not, why is Domestic Violence still a plague upon us? Apparently, Chris Brown has grown up seeing his father abuse his mother but this is by no means an excuse. It's actually a pre-requisite to his illicit behavior. It is a proven fact that children who witness Domestic Violence on a regular basis are taught that it is okay or normal to behave in the way of the abuser or the victim. Not everyone emulates the behavior of their parents or guardians, but it is a difficult cycle to break. Believe me because I am speaking from experience. Watching my father beat my mother (sometimes daily) turned me into a victim for a time as an adolescent and a young woman. Since then, I have broken that dysfunctional cycle but it took alot of work.

Hearing this news story brought back chilling memories to me of my father beating my mother in the family car. I sat in the backseat most times in anguish, feeling helpless and insignificant. Back then I felt like my existence didn't really mean much to my parents since my father couldn't care less if I was present or not. Although my mother knew my father still beat her in front of me, she made it a priority for me to be with her at all times so that he wouldn't beat her as brutally. And she may have been right, but that didn't stop him from murdering her in front of me, but I digress.

It is true that my life experience with Domestic Violence prompted me to comment on the Rihanna/Chris Brown incident, but even more so I was prompted by initial eyebrowing raising comments on internet articles by young women and girls that idolize Brown. The overwhelming majority of comments by these females were in support of Brown. But it wasn't just 'benefit of the doubt support'. I read comments bashing Rihanna. Some stated that they 'heard Rihanna is controlling and jealous', so I guess this means she deserved it. Others stated that 'she probably provoked it because Brown would never hit anyone'. This is a thermometer into the psyche of young women in this new millenium. Anyone who believes that, is a potential victim themselves, period point blank! They might not know it now, but they are already making excuses, blaming themselves for (God Forbid) a potential abuser. In some articles, the writer reported that this prevailing attitude was the main message on Chris Brown's Myspace page, Facebook and other message boards. Scary!

Anyone who professes to love you and hurts you, does not love you at all. If you are a victim of Domestic Violence or know someone who is, please refer to the internet links to the left of this article to get help. Please know, it is not your fault. I will be following this story as it becomes clearer.

http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/hiphopmediatraining/67416/chris-browns-alleged-assault-charges-could-cost-him-endorsement-deals/

http://music.msn.com/music/article.aspx?news=351828&gt1=28102

Water is Thicker Than Blood Sometimes

2009-02-05T16:53:00.000-08:00

'girl 1'-deviantart.com

"I'm going to make you guys rich!" This is how one of my aunt's greeted me when I finally arrived at my grandmother's house after my father murdered my mother. It was almost 4am. The constant barrage of questions from detectives was, as they explained, so that they could get all the details of the horrific night as they were fresh in our memories. Although the interrogation was for our benefit, it felt like torture. These are details you want to forget and here I was being forced to remember. It felt as if someone pinned my eyelids back so that they could throw as much salt in them as possible.

One haunting feature I will never forget about sitting there in the precinct was this-watching my 3 year old brother playing with a Bart Simpson figurine on a skateboard (a little fringe benefit from the McDonald's Happy Meal the detective bought us). Bart Simpson kept him occupied as he drove it back and forth, back and forth. But I knew his ears were perked, listening to the questions being thrown at my sister and I. My sister couldn't stop crying. The little 8 year old looked as if she aged 30 years. Pain was scarred all over her face. I tried not to cry because I knew my siblings fed off of me, so I didn't (at least not in the police station) but my eyes, a virtual damn drowning in tears, told a different story. My head felt like it was in the middle of a nutcracker and two large men were on either side pushing against it with all their might. I just wanted to scream and never stop screaming. Years of frustration from infancy culminated in one fateful night when my father finally came through with his two decade old threat to kill my mother.

Child welfare services waited in the precinct for my siblings and I to take us to our respective orphanages. They were going to split us up because of the large age ranges. One of my uncles (my favorite uncle) stepped up and begged for us to go to my grandmother's house at least for that weekend. Luckily, his request was granted, but of course, welfare agents would later have to come to inspect the home to see if we would be allowed to stay permanently.

When leaving the police station, the throbbing in my head just got worst. I knew there would be a crowd at my grandmother's house which was the central meeting place for the family. On a night like this, my siblings and I needed all the support and all the hugs we could get. As I suspected, there was a crowd of silent sad faces everywhere. But when my aunt, my mother's youngest sister ran up to me and said, "I'm going to make you guys rich!", I was taken aback. Rich? Even if that were so, is that something that a 15 year old girl who just witnessed her father murder her mother and who barely got out of the house with her siblings alive, wants to hear? Obviously my aunt thought that money brought some sort of great, god-like comfort to the bereaved. Little did I know that was a sign of things to come. That was just a doorway into a new chapter in my little life; a chapter where greed dictated everything; including the way my family treated me and my brother and sister.

This chapter of my life is very difficult to write about because it hurts to know that the overwhelming majority of my family, people who were supposed to love us children unconditionally, really saw us as an opportunity to make money. And why not? We didn't have any parents to protect us.
Funds were kept from us such as Social Security etc. I found out that that same aunt was claiming me on her tax return even while I was a married adult. These are just a couple of examples of how my siblings and I were thrown out to the wolves when our mother was taken from us by our father. I will cover all the details to the best of my ability in this 2nd Chapter of my blog, that I have penned, "Water is Thicker Than Blood Sometimes".

2009-02-02T08:56:00.000-08:00

New York State and the rest of the country have proclaimed the first week in February to be Teen Dating Violence Awareness and Prevention Week. The NYS Office for the Prevention of Domestic Violence (OPDV) is pleased to introduce a new campaign to raise awareness about this important issue, but we are clear that every, day, week, and month – not just the first week in February – demand commitment and vigilance to ending teen dating violence. We invite you to join us in helping to raise awareness on this important issue by taking part in our campaign, in whatever way you can.

Below is New York State's Governor Patterson's P r o c l a m a t i o n (printer-friendly/pdf)
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Whereas, the youth of New York are this State’s most precious resource and ensuring their safety, well-being, healthy development and positive growth is a priority and responsibility we all share, and the transitional adolescent years present new challenges and choices for teens as they experience dating relationships for the first time and, unfortunately, associated pressures and expectations that can lead to abusive behavior; and

Whereas, the crime of teen dating violence, including physical, verbal and emotional abuse, sexual assault, and harassment via texting, email or “instant messaging” is a reality for many teenagers in New York and other states and, like drug abuse, it’s a reality of which many parents are unaware; and

Whereas, nationwide surveys conducted in 2006 and 2007 examined teen dating relationships and experiences, and specific findings from these surveys include the following: 30% of teens in a dating relationship have been text-messaged 10-30 times an hour by a partner to find out where they are, what they are doing or who they are with; the findings also indicate that nearly one in five teens has been slapped, hit or pushed by his or her partner; and

Whereas, dating violence is occurring at increasingly younger ages as evidenced by more young victims utilizing domestic violence programs and by studies indicating that half of youth 11 to 14 years of age (“tweens”) are in a dating relationship and, of those, 62% experienced verbal abuse and one in five experienced physical abuse; and

Whereas, studies also indicate that long-term effects of violent relationships can be serious and put victims at higher risk for substance abuse, eating disorders, risky sexual behavior, suicide and adult re-victimization; and

Whereas, New York has long recognized the significance of addressing teen dating violence and has undertaken significant action in this area, such as the 2008 historic passage of a law that enables teens to obtain civil orders of protection against their abusers, the development of public awareness campaigns and, most recently, the production of a web banner and poster to be distributed to schools and other places frequented by teens throughout the State; and

Whereas, both Houses of Congress have declared the first week of February as “National Teen Dating Violence Awareness and Prevention Week,” and New York State joins in this observance by encouraging statewide youth, families, schools, law enforcement communities, government agencies, elected officials, civic organizations and other interested groups to sponsor and participate in related programs and activities;

Now, Therefore, I, David A. Paterson, Governor of the State of New York, do hereby proclaim February 2-6, 2009 as

Teen Dating ViolenceAwareness and Prevention Week in the Empire State.

G i v e n under my hand and the Privy Seal of the State at
the Capitol in the City of Albany this twentieth day
of January in the year two thousand nine.

Governor
Secretary to the Governor

Will President Obama Turn His Attention to Domestic Violence?

2009-01-23T04:06:00.000-08:00

So here we are with a new year, a new President, a new Administration and a new ideal way of looking at things. I do praise President Barack Obama's swift actions to close down the "Concentration Camps" in Guantanamo Bay. This shows his character and intolerance of atrocities. I know he has alot on his plate but my hope is that he turns his attention also to the silent epidemic of Domestic Violence.

Domestic Violence is a thermometer or symptom of a morally declining society. This type of violence directed towards someone who was once love by the assailant or who is at least in a position where love is supposed to flourish (marriage, intimate relationship) is so conrtradictory that it is sick. It shows a lack of love for self on the part of the victim and the abuser. It is sad but in my observation, most people do not love themselves. I don't believe that anyone can rise to their potential and live a happy life unless they have love for self. Love for self is so crucial that if everyone in America hated themselves, American culture would truly crumble because no one would care enough to work towards the betterment of their neighborhood, let alone themselves.

At least with Vice President Joe Biden on his side, I have a strong feeling that President Obama will act towards eradicating Domestic Violence. Honestly, if the reforms that Biden worked hard to put in place existed when my mom was alive, I believe she may still be alive today. Everytime she called the police when she was attacked by my father, she would never press charges and he was left to abuse her another day.

Be that as it may, I cracked open a fortune cookie yesterday and the fortune read, "If you keep looking back, you will end up there." Very deep indeed! I believe its best to remember past mistakes and situations so that I don't find myself there again. But I will spend the majority of my time looking forward to a better future for all with the hope for change glittering in my eyes!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2008-12-31T10:39:00.000-08:00

I'm so sorry 2008. You were good to me but I'm leaving you for something better - 2009 Baby!!! A bigger, better year is careening towards us in all its beautiful glory. Starting in Times Square with the full drop of a huge, silvery, twinkly ball ladened with hundreds of energy effecient light bulbs, the new year will be ushered in to us here on the East Coast. I'm oh so excited about 2009. I have only great plans for us and I know they will be fulfilled. I want to go back to school, preferably NYU to do the film/english thing. I want to finally get my license to drive. Hey Hey! Don't knock me. Come to NYC and you'll understand the reason why I've been avoiding this. But no longer will I be hampered down by fears. I will face them square in the face. Above all I wish for Happiness and Good Health for myself and my loved ones. With 2009 by my side, I only see positivity. I think this will be the beginning of a beautiful relationship. I wish everyone a Safe, Healthy and Happy New Year!!!!

What are your New Year's resolutions?

Happy Holidays...On a Budget

2008-12-23T06:13:00.001-08:00

Greetings Everyone! I know I haven't blogged in a while. It's not that I haven't been reflecting on my life as a Ward of the Court. For one, my computer literally blew up in a number of sporadic sparks rivaling the fireworks of Independence Day. The only difference is that smoke spiralled into the air after the display. I'm in the process of replacing my computer but I have to get someone to help me transfer all of my data which I am praying is still intact. Most people are busy with their Holiday shopping and planning and last minute projects at work, so it is difficult to find a willing IT person.

My job is really demanding right now as well but I am happy to be working. I have been thinking about all of those out of work as a result of the Budget crisis; not able to make ends meet, having to downsize their homes, having difficulty feeding their children and themselves and it makes me think more of giving of myself rather than giving immaterial things. I don't have the means to give gifts to people this year and that makes me feel bad because I love to give. All I can give to people is a sincere smile and a "Happy Holiday's" greeting and hope that they appreciate it.

What I really hope is that my example as a child who lost both parents at the same time as a result of Domestic Violence, would help others who are in violent relationships to leave before it's too late. It doesn't matter if you have been married for 2 months, 2 years or 20 years. It doesn't matter if you share children with an abuser. It doesn't matter if you are an adult dating or a teen dating. It doesn't matter if you are 16 or 61, no one should ever put their hand on you to hurt you. Love doesn't hurt.

Some really valuable information was brought to my attention yesterday by a co-worker. It was an opportunity to volunteer for either the Rape Crisis Service & Hotline Program or the Domestic Violence Hotline. I would love to help with either one but I am leaning more towards the Domestic Violence Hotline since I have lived it. I hope I will be able to meet the qualifications of the non-profit organization that is funding this program. I think that for the Holidays, gifts that don't cost much are the most valuable and let us not forget those less fortunate than us and to always be thankful for everything that we do have.

Happy Holidays Everyone! Enjoy!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!

2008-12-11T10:22:00.000-08:00

Wherever you are mommy, Happy Birthday!

My mom would have been 57 years of age today if my abusive father didn't cut her life short with a single bullet. I want my mother's death to be an example to current victims of Domestic Violence. I want her death to save lives as these women and men come to the realization that this too can be their fate. All of those days, weeks, months, years, decades of violence can come to fruition. Domestic Violence is a senseless, cave-manish way of life. Life was meant to be enjoyed by everyone. Do you not think that you deserve to have a good life, free of violence? If you are a victim of Domestic Violence and you have access to a computer, please refer to the links to the left of this article to find help. Let's help stop this silent epidemic.

Besides my mom's death, I want her life to be remembered. Regardless of making the decision to endure the violence my father exacted upon her, she tried to use her life to help others. First and foremost she was a wonderful mother to my siblings and I. Her example has taken the three of us to great heights in our young adult lives. Although my brother was only 3 years old at the time and has no memory of her, he can see her essence exuded from my sister and I.

My mom also tried to help the poor by giving to charities monetarily and by giving of her time volunteering. She was the glue that kept the relationships in her family (brothers, sisters and mom) together. When she died, family bonds died after and have never been the same. She had many friends that called her sister. My mom is missed by many but she left a beautiful, shimmering mark behind that people still gaze at with admiration. Her quality of woman is rarely seen but when I look in the mirror, I am proud to say that I see her. I love you Mommy. Happy Birthday!

The Anniversary Part III - "Mommy"

2008-12-11T04:40:00.000-08:00

After my sister trekked into the night over to our cousins house two houses away, I followed suit with my little brother all bundled up in my arms but after first peeking down the stairwell to pin point my father's whereabouts. He didn't seem to be around, so I hurried through the front door. As soon as I got to the house, my sister was still standing out on the porch in front of a locked door. Apparently they double locked the door and were searching for the key. At that moment, my father came out of our house with his gun in hand, looking around screaming my name. For a moment he looked dead in the direction of the three of us but he never saw us. He just kept on screaming my name holding up the gun.

I held my little brothers mouth so he wouldn't make a sound and I knew my sister already knew to stay quiet. Six enlarged terrified eyes, stared at my father. Three heart beats trembled uncontrollably. We just wanted to live.

Finally our cousin's husband returned, fiddling with the keys, asking us what happened. I said franticly, "Please open the door." I looked back to see if my father, who made his way down the path of our front lawn, heard me. He did. And he looked toward us. But at that moment the door opened and we all pushed in at the same time. "Close the doors quick! Lock the doors!" I begged. Our cousin and her husband watched us in terror and asked us, "What Happened!" Finally I was able to release everything from the night that I had been holding in calmly as my mother lay dying in our basement. I felt like screaming an endless scream with my arms outstretched in the middle of the Grand Canyon. I put my brother down and in between asthmatic crying and tears and more crying the words came out. "Daddy killed Mommy."

The police eventually poured into my cousin's house. All you could see was a sea of blue and speckles of suited men everywhere. The siren's kept blaring and the red and blue lights kept reflecting into the living room. A female officer was assigned to my siblings and I. She sat us down and gently asked what happened. I remember looking over to my 3 year old brother who couldn't speak as yet due to the traumatic environment he was subjected to. Silence descended and all I saw was one tear drop, stretched and trailing, as if in slow motion, from his eye. His little face with full pink cheeks was pleading to me. At that moment, I felt him call me "Mommy".

The Anniversary Part II

2008-11-26T10:33:00.000-08:00

As I sat there watching "Family Matters" in the living room by myself, I peeped my father reaching for his gun on the top shelf in the front coat closet. He then hurried down to the basement. When he was out of sight, I immediately ran upstairs to the phone in my mom's bedroom. Then I thought quickly. 'Who should I call? The police? No! I got in trouble for that from my mother before. My grandmother? Yes!' (This was a decision that got me blamed by family members for my mother's death for a few years to come). While I waited for grandma to pick up the phone, I heard a loud commotion in the basement. Then I heard a shot and then silence. My grandmother repeated, "Hello? Hello?" In a daze I said very plainly, "Daddy just killed mommy". My grandmother screamed, "What?! What's going on there Nicole?! What's going on?!..." At that moment, my father started to dial from the kitchen downstairs. When he realized I was on the phone he yelled at me to come off the phone and in his words, ..."I'm trying to call the cops. Something happened to your mother!"

I hung up the phone slowly, hearing the drifting screams coming from my grandmother. I floated downstairs to meet my brother and sister's placid faces at the foot of the stairs. I told them to go up to my bedroom and they did quickly. Then I don't know why but something told me to go towards my father in the kitchen. I heard him telling a tale to the police as he usually did. On the way to the kitchen I stopped at the basement door because the walls leading down were all covered in thick bloody hand prints. When I reached my father, I saw his hands practicly smothered in bright red blood. The yellow rotary phone on the wall was now red. When he saw me, he covered the receiver for a second and said, "Go and see what happened to your mother. Something happened to your mother!" I swear everything was occurring in slow motion. I did move slowly in order not to set my father off. I had to act like nothing just happened. He didn't just beat and shoot my mother to death. She wasn't lying in the basement bleeding out. I glided over to the basement door again but something told me not to go downstairs. I had a strong feeling that as I walked down the stairs, my father would shoot me in the back. So as he continued with his call, I went straight to the coat closet and grabbed my siblings coats and shoes.

I then walked upstairs to my bedroom where they were just milling around. We didn't really interact verbally besides me telling my 8 year old sister to put her coat on and telling her to go over to our cousins house two houses away. My intention was to have at least one of us escape this hell and our father's wrath. Like mice, we inched down the carpeted steps. Then I opened up the front door as slowly as possible because it had the habit of screaching with every move. At this point, I didn't know where my father was. It was a mystery.

The Anniversary

2008-11-21T05:08:00.000-08:00

I have not written anything in any of my blogs for over a week now. Granted, affairs at work and at home have picked up a notch in the busy department but that has never stopped me from writing before. I did a momentary zen-like pause yesterday and did some introspection and came to the only plausible conclusion. The anniversary of my mom’s death is creeping up. Like a natural law imbedded in my inner clock, the anniversary of her murder causes a reaction in me every single year. The same phenomenon happens to my sister who was 8 years old at the time. Usually we’re depressed for a week or so. This year has been my busiest year for some reason and I haven’t shed a tear as yet but that’s not an indication that I’m not tortured inside. And as far as my writing goes, I have not experienced that “umph” that would normally make me drop my twizzler and rush to my computer and write until 1:00am. I’m forcing myself to write right now.

Tomorrow, November 22nd will be 17 years since my mother was murdered by my father. It feels like only one year has passed. Still fresh in my psyche are the details leading up to her death and the details directly after. It was a crisp November Friday night. For the first time in the 6 years that we were living at our home, my father locked the only lock on the front door that everyone knew I didn't have a key for. When I came home from school, I was locked out. I headed over to my cousin's house just two houses away as my father probably estimated. My sister followed suit when her school bus dropped her off. We had fun playing around at my cousin's house. It was peaceful compared to ours. So when I happened to see my father pulling up in his car from work around 5pm, I did not go home. I wanted to stay where I was for as long as I could. He didn't even come over to get my little sister and I because this would get in the way of his plan. Time passed and when my mom arrived about 7:30pm to a sleeping hunter, she came over to my cousin's house to collect my sister and I.

We entered our home to see my father just rousing from his nap (he probably got tired waiting for my mother). We took our coats off and dispersed. I went straight to the living room television in expectation of my mother's favorite show ironically titled, "Family Matters". She affectionately called it "Erkyl" after the minor character that became the main one. To make a long story short, my father picked a senseless fight with my mother. After he beat her up in our living room, my mother headed quietly to the basement to do laundry as if nothing ever occurred. My little 3 year old brother was always with my mom, so he followed her down the stairs crawling backwards. My sister also followed her down there. I think the intention in their young minds was to make mommy feel better with their company. I, on the other hand, was bred in a more hostile environment, so I did what I did everytime a blow up would occur. I vacated the premises. I went straight to my bedroom upstairs. Around 9:00pm, when I heard everything settling, that's when I decided to go downstairs. There I would witness a more horrific series of events.

TO BE CONTINUED....

White Ribbons

2008-11-10T03:53:00.000-08:00

Just less than 10 years ago and really up till the moment, it seemed impossible that the United States would ever have an African American President. Racial tensions were alive as they have always been for the past 400 years. Tensions still exist but it is apparent that an evolution is taking place. People are changing! They are replacing their otherwise accepted ignorance with open mindedness. People are actually using their minds and rejecting what society has been feeding them from time memorial. People came out of the wood works in droves to vote to ensure that a needed change would occur and thus Barack Obama was elected the first African American President of the United States of America.

In the same vein, I believe that Domestic Violence would come to its end. What room is there in an evolved world for cave man antics of abuse? Changes have steadily been taking place since my mom was murdered by my father almost 17 years ago. Lasting change is coming and I believe the key is to help men learn to respect women and in turn themselves.
There is a campaign affiliated with UNIFEM called the White Ribbon Foundation.

What the White Ribbon Represents

* Wearing a White Ribbon is not a badge of purity or a badge of perfection. It does not mean that the wearer has perfect relationships.
* It means that this man believes that violence towards women is unacceptable.
* It is a visible sign that the wearer does not support or condone the use of violence against women.
* Everyone can show their commitment to ending violence against women by wearing a white ribbon.
* Proceeds from purchasing a White Ribbon go towards changing community attitudes through high impact awareness campaigns.

November 25th is White Ribbon Day. White Ribbon Day was created by a handful of Canadian men in 1991 on the second anniversary of one man's massacre of fourteen women in Montreal. They began the White Ribbon Campaign to urge men to speak out against violence against women. How refreshing it is that women (statistically the overwhelming victim of domestic violence) are not the only ones fighting to end this scourge. In 1999, the United Nations General Assembly declared November 25 International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women. The White Ribbon has become the symbol for the day. For more information on the White Ribbon campaign and White Ribbon Day, please refer to the links to the left. Let’s help get the word out and get involved.

October Is Not the End

2008-11-03T14:06:00.000-08:00

Domestic Violence Month (October) has come to a close. With all the events that took place, my hope is that more people were made aware of how prevalent Domestic Violence is in America and the rest of the world. I hope that more people came to realize how truly destructive it is, ripping the family apart from its core; discarding precious hearts that only want to give love and be loved. Not only is the family affected, but society as a whole. The breakdown of family was the key to the annihilation of the mighty Roman Empire. This growing plague is encompassing the world. Let’s stop it in its tracks by lending our voices, our time, our funds, and our hearts to the cause. UNIFEM, Safe Horizon and other organizations (some of which are listed to the left) are set up to do just that. Have you ever thought about volunteering to direct distressed victims on the phone to programs that would help them? There are many things that you can do to help end the vicious tirade.

The Domestic Violence Awareness Information Tables that I was able to organize were very well received at my job on October 30th. The Location (next to the cafeteria) and the 12pm - 2pm time slot was perfect as traffic was heavy at this time. Doctors, students and employees alike took many of the brochures and pamphlets that I was able to get from the Brooklyn D.A.Charles Hynes' office and Mayor Bloomberg's office. One booklet that many doctors and med students found interesting was the "Medical Provider's Guide to Managing the Care of Domestic Violence Patients within a Cultural Context."

Even the President and Executive Vice President stopped by for a bit and expressed how happy they were for the information table because Domestic Violence is a very important cause. Many passing by expressed how timely the table was in light of the recent news events involving husbands murdering their wives. The table also became a forum to discuss these very scary headlines. Several took literature in hopes of being of some assistance in this silent epidemic. A resident police officer wants to assist in increasing the volume of the event next year by joining forces. Of course I agreed, but Domestic Violence Awareness doesn’t have to be confined to October. It has to be tackled head on at all times. Domestic Violence Workshops are taking place this month at my place of employment. So far, a good number of people have signed up to attend.

I was also asked to be interviewed for a Health Center B-CAT (public access) television show to discuss how it felt to grow up in a home where Domestic Violence ruled and ultimately destroyed my mother. At first I was leery about it because I have kept this part of my life hidden from most people. But I thought, ‘If my example will help one person to make the step to escape with their life still in tact, I’ll do it.’ So I did it last Monday and it went by much smoother and faster than I imagined.

All in all, Domestic Violence Awareness month was a powerful eye opener for me. Although I lived it, I learned many things I didn’t know before. I also learned something valuable about myself. This is what I would like to do for the rest of my life – help people get out and also educate the public. I heard some very ignorant comments sitting at the tables for two mere hours. One man, who I once thought was very dignified, said upon seeing the tables, “Oh I don’t need that information. I only beat my wife once a month.’ Although it was meant to be a joke, it was in such poor taste that my perception of this person has plummeted to the dark depths of the ocean. He then went on to say that he didn’t need to take any literature for anyone that he knew because he would never surround himself with the likes of an abuser or a stupid victim. So sad that people walk around with brains and don’t use them. What a waste. He sounded so stupid on so many levels but no worries. We will educate him and others like him that seem to be in abundance. I am convinced that Domestic Violence will come to an end with great perseverance and heart. Let’s all come together as one and stamp it out!

"I Will Pull The Veil Over Your Face"

2008-10-28T13:39:00.000-07:00

“I will pull the veil over your face.” Imagine someone telling you this over and over. Now imagine that someone is your significant other; the one that you love and that is supposed to love you. My mother would always get quiet when my father uttered these creepy words to her. He said them with such conviction that I believed him and I am certain my mother did too. I am bringing this subject up in light of the horrific acts perpetrated against Jennifer Hudson’s family this past weekend. Apparently the murderer was known by the victims, making these crimes domestic in nature. If Jennifer Hudson’s sister’s estranged husband turns out to be the murderer, his actions, as heartless as they were, follow a pattern that all abusers share. His mother still proclaims that her son (although fresh from spending 7 years in prison for attempted murder etc.) would never murder these people. But she did admit that her son did mention that Jennifer’s sister wanted a divorce from him two weeks earlier.

Sometimes when an abuser sees his ‘line of fear’ is about to be cut off by divorce, separation or any other means, he/she may try whatever it takes to keep the fear going by exacting more fear and punishment. They may threaten, stalk or even attempt murder. This may be the case but there are many programs set up with the sole purpose of protecting the victims. Do not take verbal threats to your life lightly. As simple as it may seem, if anyone verbally threatens your life, they can be arrested once you report it.

Honestly, at this point in my life, I refuse to allow any human being to put fear in me. In my mother’s case, fear paralyzed her into doing nothing. The only thing my mother would do is whisper what my father would say and do to her friends and family and then in the same breath, beg them to do nothing. Besides fear for her life, my father hung another fear over my mom’s head. He threatened her in front of me, “If you ever leave me, I will kill your mother and all your &^!#% brothers and sisters!”

My mother had seven brothers and sisters and she was the third child and first daughter. I’ve always known the dynamic of my extended family on my mother’s side. My grandmother was the proud and strong matriarch that everyone looked up to. She seems to be tactless at times as she throws commands, demands and her strong opinions at you but this is just her way. She graduated from ‘The Old School’ and ‘The School of Hard Knocks’ from the ‘Class of Tough Love’. I lovingly call her, “La Bella Mafia”. My mother was from a softer, gentler nation. She was the more level-headed voice of reason who all her brothers and sisters and cousins would go to, to get advice (somehow she was very practical when it came to affairs other than her own). They also valued my mother as a kind, listening ear, especially when my grandmother didn’t want to hear it. My mother also helped raise her five siblings. She was the ‘second mother’ so to speak and beloved by everyone. I think that when my father threatened the family, my mother essentially sacrificed herself in order to keep them safe. But that kind of thinking was utterly warped on my mother’s part and it led to her death.

Be that as it may, although my father killed my mother, he was granted the right to view my mother’s body in the funeral parlor before any other family members. I was completely appalled. All I could envision was my father following through with his long-time threat, slowly pulling a veil over my mother’s face as she lay in her coffin, in other words, looking down at her, smirking and reveling in his work. I had my grandmother help me object to my father’s request with authorities but he had the right since she was his “wife”. That was just plain ridiculous. Talk about adding insult to injury. So my father, handcuffed and chained, was escorted to view my mother’s body. I cringe and my blood boils every time I think of it. I can not wait until atrocities as with Jennifer Hudson’s family and my family are demolished completely. Let us all stay silent no more and take a stand against the terrorism that occurs in our own neighborhoods – Domestic Violence. If you are someone that you know is a victim of Domestic Violence – Intimate Partner Abuse, Teen Dating Abuse, Child Abuse, Elder Abuse etc., please refer to the links to the left and take a stand.

Jennifer Hudson's Relatives Murdered: Suspected Domestic Abuse

2008-10-25T07:28:00.000-07:00

CHICAGO (AP) -- The mother and brother of Jennifer Hudson were found shot dead Friday at a South Side home, and police were looking for a missing child who is the nephew of the singer and Oscar-winning actress.
"We can confirm that there is an ongoing investigation concerning the deaths of Jennifer Hudson's mother, Darnell Donerson, and her brother, Jason Hudson," Hudson's personal publicist, Lisa Kasteler, said in a statement. "No further comment will be made and the family has asked that their privacy be respected at this difficult time."
Police spokeswoman Monique Bond said the deaths appeared to be the result of Domestic Abuse. The Cook County medical examiner's office said autopsies for Donerson, 57, and Jason Hudson, 29, were pending.
CHICAGO, Illinois (CNN) -- Police are questioning a suspect in the killings of Oscar-winning actress Jennifer Hudson's mother and brother, according to published reports, and are searching for a boy missing from the scene. An Amber Alert has been issued for Hudson's 7-year-old nephew Julian King. According to the Chicago Sun-Times, William Balfour, 27, has been taken into custody. On his MySpace page, Balfour says he is married to Jennifer Hudson's sister Julia Hudson and has a stepson.

Jennifer Hudson won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar in 2006 for her portrayal of Effie in the film version of the Broadway musical "Dreamgirls." She competed on the third season of "American Idol" in 2004, making it to the top seven contestants before being eliminated from the contest.
The Associated Press reports that Balfour is on parole and spent nearly seven years in prison for attempted murder, vehicular hijacking and possessing a stolen vehicle.
Julian, the missing boy, is 4 feet 11 inches tall and weighs 130 pounds. He was wearing a brown polo shirt with stripes and khaki pants when last seen, authorities said in the Amber Alert.
· WLS: Bodies found in home of Hudson's mom
· CLTV: Sources say Jennifer Hudson relative slain
A 1994 white Chevrolet Suburban usually at the house was also gone, authorities said at an evening news conference.
The Amber Alert said Julian, who police said was Donerson's grandson, could also be in the Suburban or in a teal or green Chrysler Concorde with a temporary license plate, a left front headlight hanging out and scratches on the left side.
Deputy Police Chief Joseph Patterson said the bodies were found about 3 p.m. Friday, when a relative arrived home and found Donerson shot to death on the living room floor.
The relative backed out of the house and called police, who found Jason Hudson shot to death in a bedroom, Patterson said. Watch the police news conference »
Neighbors reported hearing gunshots earlier Friday, he said. Authorities found no signs of forced entry to the home and are not sure whether other items are missing. Watch the scene outside the house »
Hudson's representatives would not disclose her whereabouts Friday, but Willie Davis, pastor of Progressive Baptist Church, told CNN affiliate CLTV that she is on her way back to Chicago.
Davis said he was notified that he might be called out to assist Hudson and her family members.

The ADT AWARE Program:Protection for Abused Women

2008-10-22T11:12:00.000-07:00

I thought this program was such a phenomenal one from the moment I read about it as I perused the Brooklyn, New York D.A.'s office: Domestic Violence Unit.

http://www.brooklynda.org/toc/dv_toc.htm

Since 1992, ADT Security Services, Inc., has offered a life-saving program to address the scourge of domestic violence. The ADT AWARE® program, which stands for Abused Women's Active Response Emergency, is active in more than 160 communities nationwide. It is credited with helping save the lives of 28 victims of serious domestic violence and has given countless other victims the peace of mind to escape an abusive partner.

The ADT AWARE® program is a coordinated effort among ADT Security Services, representatives of local law enforcement agencies, prosecutor's offices and battered women's shelters. After these community groups have selected participants for the program, ADT donates and installs electronic security systems in the homes of victims of domestic violence. The systems include a hold-up alarm pendant, which can be worn or carried with the victim while in the home. In the event of an imminent attack, the victim can press the button on the pendant, sending an immediate, silent alarm to ADT, which in turn notifies the appropriate police agency. Law enforcement agencies participating in the AWARE® program have agreed to respond to these AWARE® alarms on a priority basis.

ADT donates the equipment, installation and monitoring of the AWARE® systems. There is no charge whatsoever to either the victims or the community. Agencies within the community are asked to simply set criteria for selection of victims who are at the highest level of risk for lethal attack by their batterers.

The criteria typically require the victim:

1) be in imminent danger of attack,
2) have a restraining order or other order of protection against the abuser, and
3) be willing to prosecute and testify against the batterer in a court of law if he's apprehended as a result of the use of the ADT security system.

The ADT AWARE® program has received widespread acclaim for helping reduce the incidence of domestic violence, acting as a deterrent to would-be attackers while helping victims of abuse return to a safe and normal life in the one place in which they should feel safe—their homes.
If abuse is a clear and present danger for you or someone you know, follow these three steps:

1) Complete the Danger Assessment to see if you qualify.
2) Check the list of communities served by the ADT AWARE® program to see if this free ADT service is offered in your community.
3) Read through the AWARE® FAQs for some answers to basic questions.

To get more information on the AWARE® program, contact Ann Lindstrom

ttp://www.adt.com/wps/portal/adt/about_adt/adt_in_our_communities/aware

ESCAPE

2008-10-20T11:13:00.000-07:00

My mother tried to escape my father on a number of occasions. I remember some scattered details of two of these incidents but fortunately, my maternal grandmother has filled in the blanks for me. I remember my mother waiting for my father to go to work one morning. As soon as he stepped out the door, she started packing franticly. A couple of her brothers came over and helped us move to my grandmother’s house. It was a collaborative mission that was successful – for a time. I was about 4 or 5 years of age (not long after I put my father’s loaded gun to my aunt’s head – see “My favorite Auntie”). I have memories of living at my grandma’s house intermittently. I think we stayed there for about a school year because I remember going to kindergarten in the neighborhood. I found out as I got older that my father convinced my mom that he would commit suicide if she didn’t return home. My father worked for New York City Transit on the train tracks, so he claimed that he would electrocute himself by jumping on the third rail. My mom, being the big-hearted teddy bear that she was, didn’t want that on her conscience so she made the decision to go back to him although her mother advised her not to.

The second time my mother left my father, it was a similar process of last minute packing and running. We ended up by grandma’s house again. I always felt safe by grandma’s house. There were always a lot of people there. It was kind of like a bed & breakfast & dinner for family in need. Our bedroom was large and used to belong to my mother’s two younger sisters. Huge high school cheerleading pom poms that belonged to one of them still hung on the inside of the closet door and on the outside, a multiplication table that my mom made still hung for me from the last time I was there. I was 6 years of age at this time and attending first grade not far from there. We stayed for another school year+ until my father got another bright idea. For some reason, I have no memory of this but apparently my father kidnapped me from school one day. The school day wasn’t over and he never picked me up before. In those days, there were no strict rules as to school pick up as there are now. He just said he was my father and I was released to him. Next, my father called my mom and told her that he was on the way to the airport with me and if she didn’t come back to him, he would take me to his country of birth and she would never see me again. So of course my mother agreed to return to him and that was the end of everything. I wouldn’t live at grandma’s bed & breakfast & dinner again until 9 years later when my father ultimately murdered my mother.

I divorced my husband when he attempted to be violent with me. He also told me that he would kill himself and I advised him to go right ahead. Did he do it? Of course not. Even if he did, I know that his actions had nothing to do with me. The problem was there wayyyyyyy before I came on the scene. These things that my father and my ex-husband said and did were all control attempts. No human should have control over another human being and no one should feel forced to be in a relationship with someone, especially not someone who definitely needs psychological help. There are more programs available today than there were two decades ago when my mother was in need. I took advantage of a couple of those programs to make sure that my ex stayed away from me. I have listed a few helpful websites on this site to your left for those in situations like my mother who need to Escape. Don’t be afraid. Stand up for yourself and your family and take that step to safety, peace of mind - Freedom.

YOU ARE LOVE!

2008-10-19T06:46:00.000-07:00

As far as I’m concerned, my father never showed my mother love but she believed that he did love her. I mean, she was a beautiful woman on the outside but more importantly on the inside. She loved to laugh and make people laugh. She was very endearing and people from all walks of life were attracted to her light, like moths on a summer night. I can understand my mother’s actions or I should say inactions more now that I am an adult. I definitely don’t condone her deciding to stay with my father/her murderer, but I understand. I think if you exercise your ability to step into someone’s shoes, you become a more well-rounded individual because you understand that your reality is not all about you but every single soul around you and when you are concerned about others, you are conscious of only benefiting them, not hurting them.

Anyway, my mother was easy to love. So why didn’t my father love her? It’s simple. He didn’t love himself. If your candle is extinguished, how can you light some one elses. In the same vein, if you don’t possess a love for self, how can you give love to others. I believe that God is love and God made us in his image and likeness, so we are made of that most important ingredient – LOVE. Some people may not believe in Jesus Christ, but the fact is that he walked the earth and while on the earth he taught some very valuable lessons. The most important lesson was when he taught that all the commandments could be summarized this way – Love God with your whole heart, your whole soul, your whole strength, your whole mind and love your neighbor as yourself. I hope I’m not being preachy but it is Sunday :) but more significantly, I believe this teaching is pertinent to the point I’m trying to make. Love is the answer to all the woes that ail mankind but the love has to start with You. YOU ARE LOVE. Even if you don’t realize it, you exude love from your DNA through your cells, it runs through your blood, all your organs and permeates through your skin creating a light that surrounds you and attracts people to you. Depending on what we have experienced in life, this light of love may well be very dim or somewhat extinguished. Believe it or not, this is a choice that we make.

Regardless of the hard upbringing we may have had, the abuse we may have had to endure as a child or adult, the disgusting names we have been called, this is not who we are. It’s difficult not to let those atrocities erode away at how we view ourselves but if we have to fight an uphill battle, we have to fight that uphill battle in order to maintain that Self-Love. Sometimes, it’s as easy as simply opening your heart to a therapist; talking to a professional person who will keep your confidence. If my mother loved herself, she would not have allowed my father to abuse her. If my father loved himself, he would not have destroyed the one person in the world who truly loved him.

I realize as an adult that I am like my mother in many ways. I am full of love (sometimes I am called a hopeless romantic). On the flip side, from her example, I learned to avoid relationships with men who do not love themselves. Imagine a scale whereas on one side, there is a person heavy with love for self and on the other side, someone who doesn’t have that love for self. The scales would be lopsided. Ultimately, in my opinion, this relationship (because it lacks balance) will become dysfunctional and fall apart. It’s good to take your time and get to know someone before taking that big step of commitment. One red flag that I always pay attention to is when a man says, “You’re too good for me.” Trust me, if they say that, they are right. More importantly, before we step into the dating scene, we have to make sure that we have a love for ourselves or we’ll just be attracting those losers who prey on the insecure and could be potential abusers.

In a world that seems loveless at times, I just felt compelled to talk about the attribute of Love. It surely does exist in all of us. We just have to realize that it is there and encourage it to grow by learning to Love ourselves. In an earlier blog, “The Empath”, I expressed that I hated my reflection. But as an adult, I have learned to love myself and now I can smile when I look in the mirror. When I look at myself and acknowledge all the pain I have experienced and then look at how far I have come out of that valley of despair, I admire myself. I love myself! You can relearn to love yourself too once you realize that it's official - YOU ARE LOVE!

Domestic Abuse vs. Drug Abuse

2008-10-18T15:28:00.000-07:00

Being a victim of drug abuse and being a victim of Domestic Violence is very similar. I know it sounds strange but let’s just look at the parallels.

a) Drug abusers believe that they can not live without their drug of choice.
b) Women and men in abusive relationships believe they cannot live without that insignificant other.

a) Drug abusers think that the drugs make them feel good.
b) Victims of Domestic Violence believe that the one abusing them really loves them.

a) Drugs and their effects become part of the brain’s hard wiring, creating new neural synapses, forcing the brain to crave it.
b) Abusers brainwash their victims to believe they are basically nothing without them.

a) Drugs slowly destroy the user, emotionally, physically, psychologically etc.
b) An Abuser slowly destroy their victim, emotionally, physically, psychologically etc.

a) Drug Abuse affects not only the user but the entire family.
b) Domestic Abuse affects not only the victim but the entire family.

a) When a drug abuser makes the decision to become clean, it is a long, hard struggle against themselves. The transition is excruciating.
b) When a victim takes that step to get away from the abuser, it is a long, struggle; an uphill battle and the transition is painful but possible.

a) DRUGS KILL
b) ABUSERS KILL

Wow! I knew there were similarities but I didn’t know the list would turn out this long. I’m sure there are some more comparisons that I didn’t touch on. All in all, the point is that being a victim of Domestic Violence is life threatening, therefore, the victims need to be aware of programs set out to help them rid themselves of the filth and “become clean” so to speak. To the left of this article, I have listed a few programs online. If you are a victim or know someone who is, please take advantage of them. Breaking away from a life of abuse is not impossible.

A Moment of Silence

2008-10-16T19:42:00.000-07:00

Tonight in Park Slope, Brooklyn, many gathered to remember those who have been lost, support those that survive and take a public stand against Domestic Violence. Candles were lit in memory of the victims. The vigil concluded with a reception at the Park Slope United Methodist Church honoring survivors of domestic violence who spoke to those assembled about their own personal experiences. Although I wasn’t able to physically make this event which was sponsored by Safe Homes Project of Good Shepherd Services, I was present in spirit. My heart goes out to those victims and my smiles go out to the survivors. I am sure that listening to the experiences of fellow survivors spurred them on to continue on the right path.

This is the reason why I write about my mom. I want her example to shine brightly and help others being victimized by Domestic Violence. Although her murderer, my father, is about to leave prison with a whole life ahead of him, he hasn’t left behind a legacy. His life in my opinion is empty, wasted. My mother, although dead, will still live on as her example helps others. This will be her legacy – A legacy of self-discovery, self-love and resurrection. For many leaving an abusive insignificant other, the road ahead is a long, bumpy one that doesn’t seem to have an end. Many will become homeless, living in shelters as a result of escaping. But just compare your life before, living in utter anguish, walking on egg shells, afraid to breathe too hard for fear of setting off the abuser, to your life now, living in shelters, but protected and cared for and safe. I always say it’s better to live in a shack with someone you love than in a lavish mansion with someone you don’t love. The lover in this case is you. If we love ourselves, we will we do whatever it takes to preserve our quality of life and the lives of our children if there are any involved. So tonight, as every night, I will be remembering my mom whose life was cut short at the age of 49. If she was 79, it still would have been too short.

My mother was a beautiful, charitable soul who always thought of others ahead of herself. Every Thanksgiving she would donate turkeys to homeless shelters. This is just one example of the many projects my mom’s heart was moved to take part in. Noteworthy: She never bragged about it. Imagine all of the people who could have been helped if my mom was still alive. Imagine my little brother (who was 3 years of age at the time) with no memory of this beautiful soul who carried him for 9 months and who was overjoyed when she found out she was finally having a boy. Imagine me on my wedding day, wishing my mom was there to see me all grown up, but having a moment of silence for her at the reception instead. Domestic Violence is so senseless I can not wrap my mind around its “logic”. That's because there is no logic. Domestic Violence just breeds pain, pain and more pain for all involved. Let’s take a stand and make Domestic Violence a thing of the past. I believe wholeheartedly that this can and will be accomplished. In the meantime, regardless if you are in Park Slope, Brooklyn or Tibet, let us all share a moment of silence for all the victims

Let's Silence the Silent Epidemic

2008-10-14T15:35:00.000-07:00

Hello All! I am just resurfacing from a long, much needed holiday weekend. This past Saturday, Oct. 11th, there was a walk in the borough of Queens called, “Walking with New Hope Against Domestic Violence" sponsored by New Hope Lutheran Church. It was a walk to raise awareness and educate the community about domestic violence. The walk itself stretched for 2.5 miles and along the sojourn, informative literature was handed out to the public. Also on Saturday, The “Garden of Hope” sponsored a legal workshop called Immigration Remedies for Domestic Violence. Sanctuary for Families’ staff attorney, Yi Jen Chang covered VAWA, battered spouse waivers and U-Visas in Chinese.

On the menu tonight for those in the New York City area who are interested, News 12 Brooklyn presents, DiVA Talk, a one-hour live talk and call-in forum addressing domestic violence issues with experts. Information will also be available on where to go for advice and help. The location is the Brooklyn Public Library at Grand Army Plaza, Stevan Dweck Center for Contemporary Culture – 10 Grand Army Plaza, Brooklyn, New York. RSVP is required (718) 537-3405. Tomorrow, October 15th, The Advisory Council, NYC Elder Abuse Center Planning Project will be sponsoring an educational forum called, “Breakthroughs in Elder Abuse & Neglect: Multidisciplinary Approaches Promising Results. This event is a Weill Cornell Medical College, Continuing Medical Education activity. Laura Mosqueda M.D. and Laura Giles, M.S.G. will be presenting. The one hour forum will be followed by a reception at Weill Cornell Medical College –Uris Auditorium, 1300 York Avenue @ 69th Street, New York, NY. Many people don’t realize that Child Abuse and Elder Abuse falls under the category of Domestic Abuse. When we think of HOME, we want to have feelings of comfort and well being, not morbid fear. For many, there is nothing homely about HOME. It is so unfortunate, but I believe if we keep on educating the public and increasing their awareness, this silent epidemic will lose its silence and become cured.

I have been working on getting a table set up in my place of employment. The great part is that I work in a hospital. The kind of traffic we get comes from all over the neighborhood so I am hoping that this venture will educate some people who may be in abusive relationships to get help. I also want silent people who know of a friend or family member suffering at the hands of an abuser to lose their silence and extend the informative pamphlets and brochures to them. Today I received a box of literature from a very helpful woman in the District Attorney’s office downtown Brooklyn. It felt like Christmas when I saw the delivery man walk through the door. I secured a table with Facilities and a space from the Room Scheduling department for October 30th. I know it’s all the way at the end of Domestic Violence Awareness Month but that was the only date available. Therefore, in the meantime, I have been posting flyers from the “Million Voices Campaign” all over the first floor of the hospital to touch people as they pass by. I’ve also decided to simply stand outside of the cafeteria that gets the most traffic and give out literature. I hope that the whole campaign reaps great results.

October is such an exciting month for raising awareness about Domestic Violence. Let us all take a stand and Silence the Silent Epidemic. It is our responsibility.

Rehab In A Bottle

2008-10-10T15:52:00.000-07:00

After 15 years and many trips to the parole board, my father has been deemed rehabilitated and will be having an early release from prison in the summer of 2009. This is a day that I dreaded as a youngster. Fear of him being released would jump me out of my sleep at night. After my mom died, I even started sleep walking and talking. That’s how stressed out I was. Even at a time when the body and mind is supposed to rest and unwind, I was highly strung. I am proud to say that I am no longer fearful of him. No one should be feared but God and not even God wants us to have a haunting fear of him. My father, at release, will be sent to a holding facility where he will wait to be deported to his country of birth. This is a little light in a dense fog but what about the people in his country that will be subjected to his behavior. I know that my father has not changed for the better in prison because up to this day, he has not apologized or acknowledged killing my mother. I refused to speak to him all these years but I used to write him, not as a child would a father, but as a psychologist would a patient. I would show him why he should get help and even offer some biblical scriptures that I thought would be helpful to him.

When he noticed the scriptures, I knew that a little half-life light bulb flashed over his head. He saw this as a way to try to manipulate me to get me on his side. So when he wrote back, not only would he complain about my mother’s family, listing all the lies they supposedly told on him, he would express how he’s learning about God and coming to appreciate him. I saw him coming a mile away. I refused to be susceptible to his manipulating tactics. Suffice it to say, this was a crock. My father did not believe in God. He raised me to be an atheist and for a time I was. On Sunday morning, whenever my mother would get me ready to attend church, my father would insist that I stay home. For the most part he would win. For this reason, my mother started taking me to a Baptist church right before midnight on Saturday nights with one of her good friends, while my father was engaged in his weekend binge drinking- fests in some undisclosed location.

After catching me reading the Bible one day in the living room, my father warned me that if he saw me reading the Bible again, he would throw it through the window. I knew this would be the case because I have seen him throw objects through the window such as our vintage yellow rotary phone after he felt it’s warmth. This meant that my mother was on the phone and this was an absolute No No. He ripped it out of the kitchen wall and flung it on the front lawn with a warning that the phone wouldn’t be the one going through the window next time. OK. Moving right along…
My father was adamant that God did not exist and he bestowed upon me his teachings. He was very dogmatic during his teaching sessions as I was his only pupil. He taught me that I was god and he was god. He said he was also Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. This was an eye-opener for a six year old to say the least. My father also admired Hitler and other terrorists so what kind of authority on truth was he? By the age of 10, I came to my senses on my own. My father had and I am sure, still has a lot of hatred in his heart. He manufactures so much hatred that he can not see God in the beauty all around him; such as in the pollen of a flower that bees can not resist, the flickering light in fireflies, the frolicking of the end of summer squirrels and the deep gold hues of the sunset moving across the horizon like slow, thick molasses.

If perchance my father has changed, that’s good for him. I really do not want any part of him. I believe in my bones that he hasn’t changed at all because like I said before, he hasn’t once acknowledged what he did or apologized. So after paragraphs of blaming everyone but himself for his imprisonment and subsequent erasure from my life and the lives of my siblings, the closest my father would come to acknowledging what he did was, ‘I am sorry for what happened to your mother’. Happened? What ‘happened’ to my mother didn’t just haphazardly, by chance, happen. It was executed for almost 2 decades. Every time my father abused my mom, it was harsher than the abuse before. It was another step closer to her impending murder. And on that wintery Friday night, it came to fruition. My father actually planned my mother’s murder that night, but that’s another blog entry. Please, let my mother’s example be a warning to everyone reading this who is in an abusive relationship or who knows someone who is in one. Let’s stop this crazy silent epidemic. Now, as my mom’s body continues to rot away in her coffin, my father is about to experience the sweet taste of freedom again. Rehab in a bottle.

The Green-Eyed Monster

2008-10-08T13:53:00.000-07:00

My father never laid a hand on me or my siblings. In fact, he would beat my mother for physically disciplining me. Twisted? Yes. My mother actually told me one day that if I ever revealed to my father that she hit me, the beatings would get worst. The threat was real and I was cornered from all sides. This is why I mentioned in one of my earlier entries that because the family was a dysfunctional one, the roles were all confused. My father was the terrorists, my mother was the victim and my assailant at times and I was the victim and fly on the wall. I forgive my mother for the beatings because she was all screwed up from my father’s brainwashing. Don’t get me wrong, she did treat me like a loving mother for the most part. But sometimes, I was her competition.

My father would purposely give me attention that should be given to a wife. He would supply me with whatever toys I wanted, he would take me on tours throughout NYC, he would even take me along with my mother to restaurants every single Valentines Day. My mother thought she had no say in the matter. My father would also call my mother derogatory names in front of me like, pig, dumb dog, stupid a--. Then he would turn around to me with the advice, “Don’t be like your mother you hear.” My mother would then proceed to drop her head down in shame. So my father created a place for jealousy to be bred and fed between the greatest most natural bond in my opinion that exists: the relationship between mother and child. Now I see the situation clearly. He was jealous of my mother – period.

My mom finished school in another country, so she wanted to get a High School diploma in the United States. I watched her study diligently after work while my father walked around her and called her stupid and told her she would never pass the tests. Well my mother tuned him out for once and passed those tests. I was so very proud of my mom. She framed her diploma and hung it in our living room with great pride. Every time I passed, I would watch it like a work of art in the museum. But of course, my father took it down and threw it on the ground and told her that he didn’t want that ‘piece of garbage’ in his house. She put it up again the next day and he took it down again and beat her. I didn’t see her put it up again after that. So, I know for a fact that my father and other abusive insignificant others are jealous of the one they are abusing.

If my mother were alive today she would say, “What? Jealous of me?” But yes. She couldn’t see through her cloud of self-hatred (manufactured by my father) that she was worth so much. So much so she was priceless. At her funeral, her co-workers got together and rented two Greyhound buses to pack with people who wanted to attend the services. They didn’t just go to the funeral, the buses also drove to the burial site. I have never seen Greyhound buses filled to capacity rolling into a cemetery before. The buses were just a part of the endless line of vehicles filled with people who my mother touched. I don’t remember many things from the whole funeral and burial process but I do remember the buses and saying to myself, “And mommy said she didn’t have any friends.”

When she was alive she thought she wasn’t worth anything because my father reprogrammed her into thinking that she wasn’t. All of God’s creations are worth something. We are so valuable that we are priceless! Don’t let anyone try to make you believe that you are not. Hold your head up high and believe within yourself that you are priceless. This is the only way you can make that move by any means and leave the abusive situation. Right now, I love myself for everyone who doesn't love me. People don't have to love you, but they will have to respect you for the love that you have for yourself. If they do not respect you, they do not respect themselves, thus they do not deserve to be in your presence. Believe that! The love that you have for yourself will without a doubt cause some to be jealous, but let them be jealous from distance.

Open Season

2008-10-07T07:28:00.000-07:00

There’s no love like a mother’s love. This adage may be old but it is so true. When my mother was murdered, somehow it became open season on my siblings and I. We became a forum by which relatives and others could exercise their demons on. I’ve never seen anything like it. I came to realize that when people know that you have no parents, they look upon you like you are a piece of nothing. I learned so many important aspects of human nature from a child’s perspective first hand that some people never learn or care to learn about in their lives. For example, people for the most part have different faces. They have a face for work, a face for friends (depending on the friend) and a face for family. For some, the only time their real face is revealed is when they have to look in the mirror and that’s only when they are not lying to themselves. For others they reveal that true face to kids like me who they couldn’t give a damn about because they had no one to answer to. As far as they were concerned, I had no protection. But little did they know that I had the highest form of protection; God’s love.

When we became Wards of the Court, I was so thankful when my maternal grandmother won custody of us. After a whole night of interrogation in the police precinct, Child Protective Services waited to take the three of us into separate orphanages because we were so apart in age. My favorite uncle stepped up though and begged for us to at least spend the night by my grandmother’s house. Fortunately for us, we never saw the inside of an orphanage as Protective Services, after examining my grandmother’s house agreed for us to live there. I thank God for this. On the downside, when we made our entrance into my grandmother’s house about 3am the next morning after the police precinct, people were plastered everywhere in silent awe just staring at us and I was greeted with a hug from an aunt on my mother’s side with the quote, “I’m going to make you guys rich.” Very comforting words indeed especially when your father just shot your mother to death in your presence. Little did I know that this was just a preview of the greediness we would face at our grandmother’s house(more on the specifics later).

At any rate, my father has four sisters who are successful according to the world’s standards. One is a world renowned doctor and the other three have their own businesses. I have five adult cousins, older than me from that brood and a grandmother. When my mother was alive, they didn’t have much contact with me or my siblings. When mom died, it got worse. They supplied my father with a lawyer and didn’t have any contact with us for years.

Last weekend, I missed a telephone call from one of those aunts on my father’s side. So I listened to the voice mail and she said, “Hi. I wasn’t sure if this is still your number but I tried calling your grandmother and she wasn’t available so I called you.” (Well of course I felt special…Not) “I am in California. If you want to call me back, here is my number ______.” When I got the message, I called her back 2 days later and when it went to voice mail, I left her a message confirming that she did call the right number and she could return my call whenever she liked. Of course she never returned my call. I think in her mind, she already did her part. The way my father’s family looked down on my siblings and I used to make me feel very low. Now, I don’t care as much but I must admit there is that tinge of pain that I would feel for anyone that is rejected by their own family; anyone enduring little pity calls and pity hand outs now and then from a set of people who share the same blood as you but believe themselves to be better than you. I actually pity people like that. Thus one of the lessons I learned was- sometimes water is thicker than blood.

Anyway, my mom always taught me to never ask anyone for money. She pounded this lesson of self-sufficiency and independence in my head a thousand times over. When she died, I ended up in a position where I needed financial help fast for school. I was always an honors student throughout my entire educational career. When I started college, less than two years after mom died, I still wanted to keep that record shining. My new family circumstance was one that Financial Services took a while to understand. Every time I applied for aid, I would have to provide 50 million documents including my mother’s death certificate. This was heart-wrenching every year I had to do this and even when I provided everything, it took forever for Financial Aid to understand the urgency of the situation. So although I was able to take classes for my first year of school, I didn’t have money to buy books. I asked my grandmother and other relatives on my mother’s side for help but all I received were rejections. So I bit a hug bullet and out of sheer desperation, I got in contact with my doctor auntie, thinking she would understand my situation. Well! I have never been so screamed at and accused of atrocities in my entire life to date! She accused me of being a thief trying to steal her money so I could use it to gallivant around town with. She called me a liar. She said that when she was going to school she didn’t have to pay for books therefore I am lying about wanting money for books (mind you, she went to college in the 1960’s). After a couple minutes of ranting and raving she hung up the phone on me. That was my first and last conversation with my dear aunt. A year later, out of the blue, one of her sisters sent a non-refundable plane ticket for me to spend the summer with them in California. I turned it down immediately when my maternal grandmother tried to give it to me. I saw it as a pity hand out. When my grandmother emphasized that it was non-refundable, it didn’t make a difference to me. My little sister took the ticket instead. She regretted doing so afterwards (another story).

Anyhow, I got through my first year of school relying on notes from professors and photo copies of chapters from fellow students. By my second year in college, I was able to get a job to support my schooling habit. The most important message that I want to convey to people is the same throughout all of my blogs. If you are in an abusive relationship and children are involved, please, if you don’t want to think about your welfare, think about your children. Take Heed: Children without loving parents or Wards of the Court are open to the world and its many vices and faces and they are not pretty. Believe me, I miss my mother more than words can ever begin to describe.

A Most Shoelicious Spectacular!

2008-10-03T09:46:00.000-07:00

Marshalls, Safe Horizon and Unifem (United Nations Development Fund for Women) teamed up to help raise awareness about the silent epidemic, Domestic Violence. It was a union meant to be as one of the coordinators from a travelling massage company (forgive me for not getting the name) told me yesterday. He explained that they had been touring the United States, marketing their massage chairs, giving foot massages to passerby’s and New York City happened to be their next stop, the same day Marshalls Shoes, Safe Horizon and Unifem were going to set up an outdoor Domestic Abuse educational program in Union Square. The four organizations decided to join forces to present a Shoelicious Spectacular of pampering, cat walk artistry and of course chocolates.

I received an email message from Marshalls (my good friend) informing me of this upcoming event. Of course I said I’ll be there. Instructions: If I donated a pair of lightly worn shoes, an artist will take them and create a tree sculpture to be displayed in Union Square after which it would go to Domestic Abuse Survivors in need. Cool! If the cause itself wasn’t stimulating enough to attend, Marshall’s evoked the primal feminine hunger for shoes and more shoes by underlining that the first 100 persons to arrive by 12:00pm and donate, would receive a free pair of fall shoes of their choice. So of course, I arrived at 10:45am. I was told I had to wait until 12pm so I decided to watch them set up the massage chairs, the fantastical displays of “edible shoes”, red shoe cars, the two catwalks and the paparazzi stage for when actress, Leighton Meester from gossip girl would make her appearance. Everything was decked out in the signature purple, symbolizing Domestic Violence Awareness. I took pictures and milled around the park a little while waiting. Luckily, I happened to spot a host of East Indians in their traditional garb gathered around a new statue in the square. I took a closer look and apparently, a brand new statue of Gandhi was being dedicated. He is immortalized wearing his glasses and carrying his trademark staff. Garlands upon garlands of vibrant flowers of red, yellow and white were placed around his neck and outstretched arm. Of course I had to take pictures of the event and the news crews surrounding it. I thought this fit in so well with the Domestic Violence affair and the overall theme of Peace.

My worst nightmare-my batteries for my camera ran out so I had to hunt for more. I breathed a sigh of relief when I found a record store down the street. I bought four beautiful looking AA batteries but when I put them in my camera and kept flipping them, I realized that they were rechargeable batteries that needed to be charged before use. I almost flipped especially when I saw that a line was forming without me at 11:30am. I set out on another expedition, this time going further away in the opposite direction. I found a Radio Shack and this time I made sure that these batteries could be used now and even better, they were $10 cheaper. Alright, so now I was ready. I trekked back three blocks and there were only 6 ladies on the line, so I gently slipped to the back, my heart pounding while I inserted my brand new batteries. Volunteers took sizes and gave everyone on the line purple and white T-shirts that read, ‘Today I Took a Stand Against Domestic Violence 10/2/08’. I felt so honored to be given this T-shirt that my eyes started to well up. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life; raise awareness about Domestic Violence until it no longer exists. I know it sounds super-optimistic but I believe, with hard work and heart, it will eventually be eradicated.

After we all received our T-shirts, we were given a ticket and told to head over to the “Shoe Gold Mine”. I was astounded by the outdoor shoe store set up. It was very comfortable with cushioned seats and helpful volunteers donning their purple and white. We were told to choose our favorite from an array of twenty some odd pairs of shoes and boots and give the size to the male volunteers. Then the men would run to a huge purple and white truck (rivaling the size of the inventory of most shoe stores) in search of the shoe. They actually let us take our time trying on the shoes until we found ‘the one’. I already had my eyes on a pair of short black boots for work that I wanted since last year. Happiness glowed all over my face when I saw my 7 ½ make it’s appearance. Then I was escorted to style and profile on one of the catwalks modeling my new shoes and my older pair in my hand while a DJ spun some dance music, after which I would place the shoes in hand in a bin at the end of the runway. Coordinators applauded me as I made my way down but I stopped to applaud them for such a successful and worthwhile cause. They were probably wondering, ‘why is this girl applauding us?' I ended up telling two of the coordinators my reason for attending and I thanked them whole-heartedly. I believe that they knew they made a difference, especially when several survivors of domestic violence strutted their stuff confidently down the catwalks as well. The donated shoes were then displayed on the 'tree of life' (as I nicknamed it) as symbolic leaves. My shoes were the only green ones so I was very proud.

Following the runway display, we were all invited to sit in massage chairs while receiving a relaxing foot massage as servers offered us shoe-shaped chocolates in silver platters. Yummm! I loved the premise. Women need to feel worthy enough to be pampered and celebrated. When you are emitting the light of self love, you will not subject yourself to abuse. Love for self is the key. All in all, in my opinion, this event was a complete success. I made a difference and had fun doing it. Although I was on the receiving end this time, I would love to volunteer for the cause so I am researching for opportunities as we speak. I’ll be keeping you informed as I find out about other events such as this as we observe Domestic Violence Awareness month. I have an idea to raise awareness at my place of employment right now, but it is on the drawing board. I'll let you know how it develops. Tomorrow I will be busy filming a 4 minute piece for a 24 hour film race so the next article will be Monday, October 6th. Looking back now, this article seems like two in one. Well anyway, take care everyone and keep safe.

OCTOBER is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month

2008-10-01T15:28:00.001-07:00

As we kick of the month of October, let us remember those who have died as a result of domestic violence. Help those we know are in abusive households or situations by giving them strength through the info that they need to leave. Take part in the many events that are happening all over the country. Below is a list of some of those events. I will continue to research more. Also, don't forget to refer to the helpful links to the left. The Purple ribbon, like the pink ribbon for Breast Cancer Awareness is the symbol for Domestic Violence Awareness. Death by Domestic Violence is Intolerable. Let's Take Action! Show your support to end domestic violence by taking it to the streets!

To add your public awareness event, please send information to kwagner@ndvh.org with Subject: AROUND THE COUNTRY.
October - Domestic Violence Awareness Month

Oct 1-31 - Cleveland, OH Purple Light NightsYour home, office, etcSponsored by the Domestic Violence Center in ClevelandView article

Oct 1 - Belleville, IL4th Annual Peace Vigil6:30 p.m., Mt Carmel Cemetery at 10101 W Main St.Sponsored by the Violence Prevention Center of Southwestern Illinois.View article

Oct 1 - Chicago, ILLight Up the Lakefront Luminaria7:30 p.m., Oak Street BeachView announcement

Oct 1 - Fort Wayne, INAnnual Flowers on the River Walk5 p.m., RiverSponsored by YWCA of NorthEast IndianaView flyer

Oct 1 - Naples, FLCourthouse Candlelight Vigil5 p.m. - 6:30 p.m., Collier County CourthouseSponsored by Shelter for Abused Women & ChildrenView Press Release

Oct 1 - Sacramento, CA3rd Annual Californians Uniting to End Domestic Violence: Statewide Day of Awareness11 a.m. - 12:00 p.m., West Steps of the State CapitolSponsored by California Partnership to End Domestic Violence and the Domestic Violence Interagency CollaborativeView website

Oct 2 - Somerville, NJ20th Annual Candelight Vigil6 p.m. - 7:30 p.m., Somerset County CourthouseSponsored by Resource Center for Women & Their FamiliesView website

Oct 2 - Charleston, WVSilent No More Demonstration & VigilDemonstration 5 p.m. - 6 p.m., Kanawha Blvd between Leon Sullivan Way & Morris StVigil & Reception 6:30 p.m. - 8 p.m., YWCA on Quarrier St.Sponsored by YWCA Resolve Family Abuse ProgramView website

Oct 3 - Basking Ridge, NJPurple Laces…Safer Places!3 p.m., Pleasant Valley ParkSponsored by Resource Center for Women & Their FamiliesView flyer

Oct 4 - Ketchum, IDWalk the Walk10 a.m., Ketchum Town PlazaSponsored by Advocates for Survivors of Domestic Violence in HaileyView article

Oct 4 - Miami, FL Personal Invite to Million Voices Campaign members!Domestic Violence Walk and Expo7:15 a.m., 16501 NE 16th Ave, North Miami Beach, FL 33162Sponsored by SafespaceView flyer

Oct 4 - New Bern, NCDV Awareness Fun Ride (motorcycle)9 a.m., 1333 S Glenburnie RdSponsored by the Coastal Women’s ShelterView website

Oct 4 - Dade City, FLWalk a Mile in Her Shoes (Mens’ march against domestic violence)6 p.m., Dade City Cruise-InSponsored by Sunrise of PascoView article

Oct 4 - Richmond, KYMusic with a Mission (Free Concert)5 p.m., The Ravine at EKUSponsored by Hope’s Wings Domestic Violence Program, Madison County Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault Council, EKU Department for Women and Gender Studies, Multi-Cultural Affairs and Dept. of Anthropology, Sociology, Social Work and University Book and Supply.View article

Oct 5 - Danbury, CTA Community United Against Domestic Violence Annual Walk10 a.m., Western Connecticut State University (Westside)Sponsored by Women’s CenterView website

Oct 6 - Madison, WIPurple Ribbon Walk & RallyNoon, corner of State St and MifflinSponsored by Zonta Club of MadisonView article

Oct 6 - Orlando, FLLight Up the Night6 p.m. - 8:30 p.m., UCF Reflection PondSponsored by UCF Victim ServicesView website

Oct 8 - Mankato, MNCandelight Vigil6:30 p.m., MNSU fountainSponsored by MNSU Women’s CenterView website

Oct 11 - Manassas, VAFamily Matters10 a.m., Hampton InnSponsored by Big Sis & Company and PNC BankView website or informational flyer

Oct 11 - Salem, OR2008 Domestic Violence Awareness Walk/Run7 a.m., Minto Brown ParkSponsored by the Marion County Domestic Violence CouncilView flyer

Oct 14 - Philadelphia, PAListen Up: Young Artists Have Something to Say About Domestic Violence6 p.m., ArtJaz Gallery, 53N 2nd StreetSponsored by Lutheran Settlement HouseView article

Oct 14 - Westport, CTReception, Film & Discussion - Waitress6 p.m., Westport Public LibrarySponsored by Westport Domestic Violence Task ForceView website

Oct 16 - Arlington, VASilent Witness & Candlelight Vigil5:30 p.m., Women’s Memorial at Arlington National CeremonySponsored by Doorways, Ft. Myer Family Advocacy Program, and U.S. Military tributeView website

Oct 17 - Quad Cities, ILFlowers on the River5:30 p.m., Ben Butterworth ParkwaySponsored by Family ResourcesView article

Oct 18 - Newnan, GAWalk for National Domestic Violence Awareness Month4 p.m., Wadsworth Auditorium on Jefferson St.Sponsored by Community Welcome HouseView website

Oct 19 - Newburyport, MAWalk Against Violence & Dorothy ’s Run 5K11 a.m., Bartlet MallSponsored by Jeanne Geiger Crisis CenterView Article

Oct 19 - Philadelphia, PAFestival of Hope1 p.m., Clark Park (43rd Street and Baltimore Avenue)Sponsored by Lutheran Settlement HouseView announcement

Oct 19 - Succasunna, NJAnna’s Run/Walk to Stop Domestic Violence7:15 a.m., 72 Eeyland AveSponsored by Ralph’s Runners and Roxbury Field of DreamsView flyer

Oct 23 - Dade City, FL12th Annual Candlelight Vigil6:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m., Florida Hospital Zephyrhills (west lawn)Sponsored by Sunrise of PascoView website

Oct 26 - Virginia Beach,De-feet Domestic Violence Walk1 p.m., 24th Street Park and BoardwalkSponsored by Samaritan HouseView website

Oct 27 - Immokalee, FLChildren’s March on Main (including children’s fair)6 p.m. - 7 p.m., Main StreetSponsored by Shelter for Abused Women & ChildrenView Press Release

Signs and the Imagination

2008-09-30T10:25:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I finally told my sister about this blog and explained to her how therapeutic it felt writing about my past experiences with our parents. She brushed over it lightly. I knew she didn’t really want to know the details of what I knew about our family life. She has heard stories told from other relatives but not really from me. From the time she was born, I made a resolve in my mind at the age of 8 that I would protect her by any means necessary from the atrocities that I had to witness. So when I sensed that a blow- up was about to occur, I would remove her from the situation.

I was already programmed to know when a fight would break out. I would see the “signs”. Late at night on the weekends, my father would come home drunk, decked out in his slobbering binge drinking regalia. This was almost always a recipe for disaster. He might silently stare at my mom with the flickering fire of content in his eyes; this was a sign that an eruption was about to occur. Or, he would go out of his way to create a totally pointless argument. For example, when he came home from work, he would feel the vintage yellow rotary phone on the wall in the kitchen to see whether it was warm or cold. If it was warm, that meant my mother was talking on it with her friends, and this “horrid act” was forbidden. If she truly was speaking on the phone and heard my father’s keys in the door or the garage door opening, I would watch her jump immediately and rush off of it and head upstairs to appear busy with some household activity like separating laundry or tailoring his clothes. Sadly, my mom was trained like Pavlov’s dogs. When he felt the warmth of the phone, that was an automatic argument and almost always, grounds for a beating.

Anyway, when I would see the signs, I would move my sister to another room and engage her in some creative play with our toys; something fun that would distract her. I even transformed our once dusty, box-ladened basement into a Playland/Classroom. My mother topped it off with a fluffy cream-colored carpet that we would make snow angels and roll around on pretending it was snow. The two clothes lines above served as ski lifts for the Barbies. In that basement I taught my sister how to read, which was essential to delve deeply into the pleasantly distracting world of the imagination. Although my father forbid me from reading anything fictional (including the Bible which he deduced was fictional) I made sure to introduce my sister to the literary land of fiction starting with Shakespeare who I loved. She became an avid reader of everything and right now her literary resume is a long one that spans all through the classics.

So when I mentioned this blog to my sister, I knew it wouldn’t be on her to do list of works to delve into but I just thought I should make her aware of it. I brought up one experience from the blog to her attention and my normally extremely talkative sister whose mouth my mother proclaimed ran like faucet water and who she prophetically described as the next Oprah Winfrey, went silent. She has witnessed some of our parent's tamer fight scenes but there are some events that I screened her from that she is still not aware of to this day. The rape incident stunned her into a silence so strange that I decided at that moment to continue to shield her from some things for her sake. Not everyone can handle hearing the grave details of abuse. Imagine the children forced to experience it first hand everyday. Our imaginary winter wonderland in the basement was our great escape. There, our laughter painted the walls and our snow angels tatooed the carpet. This was our secret place of protection. Little did we know that our mother would later die there on the fluffy cream-colored carpet.

Write Out Loud!

2008-09-29T07:23:00.000-07:00

This weekend I stumbled upon a great writing opportunity as I was perusing the Writer’s Digest website. Field Report.com encourages writers to send in excerpts of their true life experiences for a chance to win a cash prize of $1,000, which they offer every month. Your writing peers are the judges, scoring you from 0 – 10. I thought this was amazingly timely, so I entered my blog article, “The Empath”. I renamed it “The Empaths” though, to reverberate a collective voice of children and adults just like me. So far, I received two comments and both anonymous persons seemed to benefit from the opened door into my dysfunctional household. One even commented that everyone not only in physically abusive but emotionally abusive relationships should read it. Despite the monetary prize, I already feel a sense of triumph because someone has already profited from my entry.

I read other people’s entries also and commented on them and realized that everyone has a story. In all shapes and sizes and colors, everyone has an interesting story to share. Your story doesn’t have to be as crazy as mine to be fascinating. What matters is that you take that big step and write it. And what’s most important is that you write it with your heart. I find this whole experience of simply writing down pieces of my soul in this blog, knowing that people may be reading it, to be exhilarating. It’s hard to explain but I feel a peace of mind on a different level whereas there are no more walls surrounding me. I encourage everyone to write their life down somewhere. It doesn’t have to be in a contest and you don’t have to be Hemingway. Take it from me, the simple act of writing is extremely therapeutic so please, take that step if you haven’t and Write Out Loud!

Do Not Feed The Animals

2008-09-27T06:49:00.000-07:00

The bully in the school yard, the overbearing boss, the obnoxious security guard, the abusive significant other; they all have a secret that they don’t want revealed. They may come across powerful and intimidating, but underneath that veneer they are unhappy souls. And guess what, they want to spread this unhappiness to you. The abuser is a control freak with low-self esteem who is essentially jealous of the happiness you may exude, so they will do what it takes to pummel you through the ground until you have nothing left but sadness – Mission Incomplete. The abuser does not stop so easily when they see they have knocked out that once beautiful sparkle in your eye. It gives them twisted pleasure to continue with the name calling, punching, kicking etc. for as long as you let them. This is why you must stand up for yourself.

Abusive persons have usually had a bad childhood or experienced something to create the unhappiness and misery they may feel inside. It is a sad situation, this vicious circle, and it is easy to feel sorry for someone who has been abused in the past, but if they have now become the abuser, you can not fix them, so don’t try to fly in and be the super hero. There is a word for people who can help – Psychiatrists. Professionals such as psychiatrists, psychologists and therapists are all trained to help such people in need. The abuser may lament, "I will Change", but they CAN NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES CHANGE WITHOUT PROFESSIONAL HELP.

My mom met my father as a young man in a bad situation. He was basically alienated from his family and living in what I have heard described as a ‘two by four hole in the wall’. He also worked as a bag boy in a local grocery. My father’s mother basically gave him away to her brother who was always at sea (in the naval forces), and his alcoholic wife who would tie him down during the day after school because of his bad behavior and release him at night. He was violent from an early age. At 17, he had already attempted murder by beating a man continuously in the head with a brick until he lost consciousness and eventually awoke brain damaged.

Feeling sorry for the person who became my father, my mother helped him get a lucrative job at NYC Transit and eventually they ended up getting married. Later on down the line, he would brag continuously about making more money than her at this job. Doesn’t make much sense, especially when as a married couple, you are supposed to function as team for the benefit of the family. He was in constant competition with my mom. It was jealousy. She was a very happy woman; always laughing, always giving to charities, always optimistic until he got his claws into her really deep. There is a very good reason why signs are posted all over zoo’s and safari’s and other wildlife centers which say, “DO NOT FEED THE ANIMALS”. It’s not that the animals don’t deserve to be fed. They benefit best when fed by professional caretakers who study their eating habits, their habitat, their species etc. If we, as the patron just strolling by, decide to take it upon ourselves and feed them what we have (which is inappropriate), it won’t benefit them like the food a professional would supply for them. And depending on the animal, they just may attack. The same goes for those of us who, through pity, fall in “love” with an individual while trying to “fix” them psychologically. Please leave it to the professionals. And if anyone reading this sees themselves in my father, please cease your destructive behavior and seek help.

The Empath

2008-09-26T04:51:00.000-07:00

“I don’t want to leave because of the kids”. This is an excuse that most persons in abusive relationships use. This justification not to act and leave is wearing thin though. Many persons have died using it. Granted, children naturally want their parents to stay together no matter what. They feel broken inside when the two halves of who they are, are separated. But imagine how broken a child feels each time they witness the abuse. Imagine for a moment how broken a child will be when they are burying one parent and the other is locked away in prison for their murder.

Most adults feel a degree of empathy for others but children are natural empaths. They are extraordinarily sensitive to everything that goes on around them, especially when it comes to someone they love dearly. Unknown to my father, I felt all of my mother’s pain. I can’t tell you how many times I have seen my father beat my mother to a pulp in front of me. It didn’t matter how much she tried to fight back, he would over power her with heavy punches as if he was beating a man.

My father had the habit of pretending to hug my mother ( in a head lock) in front of me and with a smile on his face, he would watch me and give her upper cuts to the gut and ribs as if I didn’t have two eyes to see. Every time he punched her, he was punching me. Every time he kicked her, he was kicking me. Every time he slapped her around, called her derogatory names and told her she was worthless, it felt as though he was doing all of these things to me. I remember in the Bible that God essentially said, if you touch one of these, meaning his followers whom he loved dearly, you are touching my eyeball. That’s how sensitive I was to my mother’s pain. (As an adult, I find that I am highly aware of most people's emotions who I come in contact with, but that's another episode).

After a beating, to add more insult to injury, my father would look at me and say in front of mom, “Don’t be like your mother you hear.” I would watch my mother walk away with her head down, ashamed. The physical pain was nothing compared to the worthlessness and utter self hatred she felt. Although I started out life chipper and full of energy and confidence, my diabolical family life made sure that I soon became shy and introverted. Like my mother, I developed a self-loathing. By the time I was about 10 years of age, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I thought I was ugly and disgusting. I remember banging my reflection in the mirror once because I hated myself so. I wanted to break it but I knew I would get in trouble, so I didn’t.

I had my first “emotional breakdown” when I was 7 or 8 while watching a bout of ‘Round 298’ (I will talk about that in detail another time). So people, what I really want to bring home is that it’s an excuse to say that you will not leave your abuser because of the children. You are doing your children and yourself a disservice by staying. Children are empaths who feel everything. You are in danger of losing your children emotionally and your children are in danger of losing you if you stay.

National Day of Remembrance for Victims of Homicide

2008-09-25T04:44:00.000-07:00

Today is the Million Voices Campaign’s National Day of Remembrance for Victims of Homicide. This campaign in conjunction with the National Domestic Violence Hotline penned the motto, ‘Giving America a Million Reasons To End Domestic Violence’. The organization consists of a group of people and organizations in America (such as the Lifetime Network) willing to educate, inform, and raise awareness about the problem of domestic violence while extending sources of help. The goal is to reach a member base of one million. Joining is easy and even better, it’s free. If you are interested in joining, please click on the National Domestic Violence Hotline link to the left or click on the link at the end of this article. Remember, there is more strength in numbers.

This day is a personal day of remembrance for me. I became a Ward of the Court when my father killed my mother after almost two decades of abuse. It was a Friday night, a couple of minutes after 9pm on November 22nd, 1991. It still feels like it happened last night. A couple of days before, my father brought a new gun into the home and placed an innumerable amount of bullets in a can next to it on the top shelf of our coat closet. He showed me where he placed it and told me, a young teenager, that if any of my mother’s friends came over to the house, to use it on them. I immediately warned my mother and she said and I quote, “He’s not going to do anything with that,” end quote.

Many women and men and now teens, do not believe that the person that they love and who originally professed to love them would ever take their life. Well the reality is a scary one people – ONCE ANYONE PUTS THEIR HAND ON YOU TO HURT YOU, THE POTENTIAL TO KILL YOU IS THERE. This is the red flag to RUN and never look back! LOVE DOES NOT HURT. If you are anyone that you know is a victim of domestic violence, please contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE. All the information that you need is on the site www. http://ndvh.org/index.php or you can click the link to the left. Don’t be one of those lost souls, like my mom, who have been reduced to a simple memory on a day of remembrance. Save a Life. http://www.ndvh.org/support-ndvh/million-voices-campaign

My Favorite Auntie

2008-09-24T03:52:00.000-07:00

Auntie “Jane” is my favorite Auntie. Of course that isn’t her real name and neither is her last name, Doe. She was and still is a tough cookie. But one day when she came over to our home when I was about four or five years of age, all of her tough exterior melted in the matter of a second. My father was always fascinated with guns. He would buy toy guns for me to play with (a no no for kids) and he would collect real guns for himself. Apparently I watched where he stashed a particular silver looking gun with a white handle. This is the same gun that I would watch my father threaten my mother with, putting it to her head over and over again, as she pleading with drenched eyes for him to stop. This made him feel powerful I guess. How pitiful but I digress. I must have thought this gun to be intriguing in some way. Maybe it was because it was so shiny. At any rate, my favorite Auntie “Jane” sat down on a little chair of mine, playfully teasing me as she normally would. This time though, I pushed a chair against my parent’s Chest of Drawers, climbed up to the top drawer and pulled out my father’s shiny silver gun. My aunt told me that, she didn’t see me coming. All she felt was the revolver against her temple and she froze literally. Her body became cold and stiff and she couldn’t even move her mouth to call my mom from the kitchen. She was afraid that any little movement on her part would trigger me to pull the trigger. When my mother finally came into the bedroom, she was completely and utterly mortified. What kind of scene that must have been. Can you imagine?! Seeing your toddler pointing a gun at your teenaged sister’s head? A toddler who thought it was just another toy like the ones daddy would usually buy her.

Unknowingly, my father was already teaching me a most horrific lesson; a lesson that would have ended up landing me in jail as a juvenile delinquent and probably a career criminal with a rap sheet starting at the age of four, if I didn’t have the proper guidance from my mother, her family and more importantly, God. My father was teaching me that if someone made me angry, shoot them. He didn’t have to sit me down and give me the rundown of the lesson plan. I simply learned from his example.

Children are Genius Sponges. They suck in everything around them at a remarkable rate and their memories rival that of computers. Therefore parents, do not think that your children don’t know your patterns. Their heightened awareness allows them to record and imitate your every move and everything that comes out of your mouth. And another thing, children see everything so please be as good as an example to your children as you can be. And please do not expose them to bad television or your bad behavior. We all get mad at times but let’s not give our children a front row seat to the horror show. Be that as it may, my mother thought quickly and grabbed the gun from my hand. It was loaded.

First Memories

2008-09-23T04:31:00.000-07:00

My first memory is a dream; a dream of me falling down a flight of stairs in slow motion in my parents first apartment. I am about three years old and I remember the age because I was still in a crib. Every time I would have this dream, I would fearfully jump out of my sleep, clasping the ivory bars of my crib to stand up. In the dream, everything is a dreary yellow and the air feels like oatmeal; very thick, slowing down every tumble down the stairs. And just before I reach the bottom, I always wake up. As an adult I tried to assess this dream in a positive manner. I see the fact that I never hit the bottom to mean that in life, basically, I will never allow myself to hit rock bottom. Each tumble down the steps surely does hurt, as in life, we always experience painful situations (the death of a loved one, never knowing your parents, being a victim of abuse, feeling alone) but we will never hit the bottom where we can not go on anymore. That is the positive attitude that we have to have toward life.

After that dream, one of my earliest memories is witnessing my father raping my mother at the age of five. This was a time when rape was unheard of in marriage. A man was entitled to take his “due” from his wife anytime he wanted to because she was basically his property. At the time, I didn’t know what was going on of course. As I got older, in my teenage years, I realized what it was. So it was as if I was reliving it all over again. I saw my mother trying to fight my father off, screaming at the top of her lungs. I saw her leave four deep scratches behind his left shoulder and every time I would see the scratches for weeks after that, I would remember the act in detail.

Although I can’t remember what I had for breakfast sometimes, this memory is one that I can not forget, even if I tried. I have a fantastic long-term memory. Before I didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse but now I am glad for the ability to remember so far back in my history. Some, well most of my memories are painful, but I am thankful for them because I can learn from them. I have learned that I don’t want that type of life for myself as an adult or for my own children. Bad memories are like a detour on a map that can guide you away from ever having to experience them again. They also build character and wisdom in you that you can pass on to others. When you speak, you can lift your head up high and speak with authority. Life can definately feel like falling down a flight of stairs through thick oatmeal at times, but you will never reach the bottom. God does not allow us to experience more than we can handle.

My BFF- Best Friend Forever

2008-09-20T18:57:00.000-07:00

With pencil in hand and blank, white paper staring at me, I discovered my best friend forever. My best friend has no gender and can not be seen by mere eyes, it is felt and through it I have gotten through the worst of times. My BFF is writing. I discovered my ability to write fictional stories at the age of 6 and even better than that, I realized that I could travel anywhere and be anything I wanted to be when I put pencil to paper and allowed my imagination to soar. It was and still is my best friend. When my father would attack my mother, I would slink back into my room, pull out my favorite composition notebook and just write about being somewhere else. I could literally block out their sounds as I delved deeper into the story at hand. Writing is still the perfect emotional outlet for me.

I am sharing this because we all need emotional outlets to carry us through the rough times. We just have to figure out the best ones for us personally. It could be painting or sculpting and please remember, no one said your works have to be perfect. Usually, art born out of emotional turmoil has the most depth. But if you feel that you are not artistically inclined, don't worry. Playing a sport is a great physical way to release negative energy. If that's not for you, try exercising, pruning Bonsai plants, Tai Chi or Yoga, reading etc. Other emotional outlets for me are coloring in my kid's coloring books. My little one, the feisty one, is tired of me using her books, so I've decided to get my own. Another one for me is listening to water flow. I don't have one of those fancy fountains (although I would like one) but when water falls in between my stacks of dishes in the kitchen sink, it is the most pleasant sound. And I try not think about having to wash them afterwards.

My main emotional outlet just happens to be my own BFF. There are many outlets out there just waiting to be discovered by you. You'll be surprised!

INTRO

2008-09-20T18:50:00.000-07:00

Hi. My name is Ward of the Court. At least that’s how New York State identified me from the age of 15. Then I was on my own. But the feeling of being on my own arose from as long as I could remember. My parents were too caught up in their confusion to realize that an impressionable child was growing underneath their tattered wings. I grew up in a middle- classed household (according to societal standards). To the outside world, we were a picturesque family. But when the doors or should I say bars, slammed shut, it was like being in prison. I was subjected to my father’s constant abuse of my mother, verbal, emotional and physical and she in turn, heaped that frustration upon me, especially when my father purposely treated me with love and attention and contrasted me to her in order to basically piss her off. Because it was a dysfunctional household, we did not play out the regular “family roles”. My father was the “ticking time bomb terrorist”, my mother was the “crime victim” and I was the “fly on the wall” that got pulled into the chaos on occasions by both if it benefited them. I also served as a “threat” to my mother. The worst part about the whole thing is that I loved them.

I have been meaning to write about the shattered episodes of my childhood but I’ve been putting it off because it is oh so difficult to write. Right now, I can feel my body gently shiver beneath my skin. When I came upon blogspot I thought,” Wow, I can blog it! This should be easier.” Well it’s not that easy, but I am motivated by all the “Wards of the Court's” out there. I want all of them to know that they are not alone and I want them to see that they can make a life out there for themselves; beyond the biological parents, beyond the craziness all around them, there is a shaft of light that is beckoning for their happiness. I am going to write not in any conventional order. I will write just as the memories come to me. My moniker is Ambrosia...and this is my life.