Each year, as part of its Annual Report to the Community
the Syracuse Area Domestic & Sexual Violence Coalition
is honored to present the powerful personal stories of courageous survivors.

On this page, the inspiring voices of . . .

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Agnes  .  Ed  .  Jaime  .  Jennifer  .  the family of Chiarra Seals

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Aminata  .  Crystal  .  Helen  .  Nori

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Elisa  .  Janice  .  Melissa

My name is Agnes and I’ve been asked to speak at this community forum on domestic violence. I’ve always been an active member in my community, involved in many different things and projects and I’ve known of Vera House. I was with my partner and husband for several years and raising two small children. At the time, not being exactly sure of what to do or who to turn to, I just picked up the phone and called Vera House. Anne just happened to be on the other end.

At first we spoke very briefly, maybe two minutes, two days out of the week or so. It was really helpful just to be able to have someone to speak with. Usually, I know that they say at Vera House to go to a shelter, but the shelter was not accessible for me. So, we spent a lot of time speaking to each other on the phone, back and forth, this went on for several months. We never met but this worked out better, especially for me, because it was really just focused on what I was going through and the reality and dynamics of what I was dealing with. This was especially important when law enforcement had to be called. That went so horribly wrong that the two cops that came to our home were suspended without pay. Anne was on the phone that morning and sprang into action, doing what she usually did, which was to always be supportive. Don’t get me wrong, there were people like Colleen, Sally Johnston, and Jose Grow, my family support coordinator at the time. But what was great about my situation, if there could be anything great about domestic violence, was that I could reach Anne day or night or she could reach me if those said persons were not available.

I also would like to mention part of the police force that the community hears less and less about and has the most thankless job, but is so vital, The Domestic Violence Unit. So, I would really like to say "Thank You" to all who work so hard in the Domestic Violence Unit and the police department, especially Mike, who I know left the department shortly after my case began. But, I will never forget the strength, support and courage given to me during my time of great need and crisis. To Officer Dowdell as well, much thanks. The Domestic Violence Unit has such training, strength, courage, love, heart and understanding for what they do. It’s amazing to watch them work and to thank them as well, for all that they do and all that they give of themselves.

Vera House has a chance with this grant to work with the community in figuring out ways to make the shelter accessible for all women or men, regardless of capability. Vera House should really seize the opportunity, because violence is a crime and it should be treated as such. It does not care about the color or non-capability of its victims. And, this has clearly worked in other communities; so Vera House and our community should not blow this opportunity - it should be embraced.

I’d like to leave you all with one of my favorite quotes: “a community's strength is measured by the ability to include the gifts and contributions of all its members.”

My name is Ed. I am 45 years old. I am a survivor of sexual abuse. The abuse started when I was 7 years old - I ended it when I was 14 years old. When I was 10 years old I told someone from school, they told me that it wasn’t a good time to talk about it. In high school I told a trusted teacher - the teacher just walked away!

Two marriages, four kids (two who I have no contact with), lots and lots of poor choices, so many jobs . . . . age 14 to 44 - 30 years of panic-driven choices. At 43, no place of my own to live, no job, no car of my own, in trouble with the law, and running from creditors. I had hit bottom.

So many phone calls, 20 or 30. People asking, "Do you have insurance? We can’t help you, try this number…" It took two weeks to find Vera House and my life began again the day that Vera House called.

I hope and pray that today when a child tells anyone that someone is touching them in a weird way, someone makes a phone call!

We need education, awareness and a system of help for men, women, boys and girls, so people can take action if they need help or if someone confides in them.

I would like to thank Vera House for helping me to help myself. I would also like to tell the men I spend time with once a week (in a Survivor’s Group at Vera House) how much I appreciate them. We laugh, cry, learn, and most of all, heal and learn to trust. This is a group of brave men and I would not be the MAN I am today if it were not for these very special men.

Thank You.

I remember the summer before the abuse began - running through the fields of golden rod and phlox behind our house. I used to run through the fields and put the flowers in my hair - my Mom used to say that I was so beautiful, even though she was allergic to them. She did not care about her allergies because she adored the way I looked with the flowers in my hair. This was the innocence of my childhood. I was almost nine when the abuse started. I didn’t view things the same nor did I run through the fields anymore, or feel beautiful like I did before the abuse.

I saw a psychologist when I was 14 and I disclosed to her about the abuse and she told me that I was doing the right thing by telling someone about what I had endured. I kept that in mind after it was leaked out into the community and the school district. I kept that close to my heart when I was called a liar, when my head was smashed into lockers, when my hair was pulled out of my head and when I was spat at. By the time I was 15, I threatened to commit suicide. When this failed to get the help that I needed so desperately, I finally did try to commit suicide during school hours. I was almost 16. My abuser only served three months for the 4-1/2 years of abuse that he inflicted on me. He now, no longer, has to register as a sex offender.

I feel that justice did not prevail when I was younger. Being that I was a minor the court records were sealed. I was not allowed to be present during the trial and I am angry that I am unable to read the court records to find out what was said in the court room in my defense. I have no one that wants to speak to me about the abuse or what happened to me when I was younger. I hear that I should just leave it in the past and not open a new can of worms - but now I am beyond that! I want to know the truth. I want to put this behind me and move forward through helping others that have suffered like I have.

I want to find ways to change laws because sexual abuse is a premeditated act. Sexual predators seek out their victims in advance to build a comfortable and trusting relationship. I believe that the laws regarding sexual crimes should be stiffer. The whole reason I needed to find a place like Vera House is because I needed to speak. I needed to break the silence and bring this matter to the forefront. I intend to help society understand this very serious crime happens all too often.

I was a victim for many years of my life but today I proclaim, I am NO LONGER a victim, I am a SURVIVOR!

My name is Jennifer. When I was asked to speak here today, I wasn’t sure that I could muster up the courage to do it, but here I stand before you, ready to break the silence.

Every 2-1/2 minutes, someone in America is sexually assaulted. Think of how many lives that affects? Not just the victims, but their families and friends as well. Patricia Weaver Francisco states, “If the occurrence of rape were audible, its decibel level equal to its frequency, it would overpower our days and nights, interrupt our meals, our bedtime stories, howl behind our love-making, an insistent jackhammer of distress. We would demand an end to it. And, if we failed to locate its source, we would condemn the whole structure. We would refuse to live under such conditions.”

I never thought that this would happen to me. I never thought I would be standing up speaking out against Sexual Violence. But here I stand before you today, telling my story. It was the first month of my freshman year of college. I was 18 years old, and he was 21. He was interested in me, and he was cute. What wasn’t to like? He was my boyfriend and I trusted him. We had been dating about a month when suddenly things turned sour. I never thought my life could come crashing down around me in just one night. But it did. He had been drinking heavily and he wanted to have sex, but I said “no”. I was a virgin at the time. I just wasn’t ready yet. He wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. He used force and violence to get what I wouldn’t willingly  give. He held a knife to my throat and raped me repeatedly throughout the night. (He even went as far as putting the knife inside me, and throwing me into a wall.) You don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t do that to anyone! In my head, I clung to thoughts of the people in my life who I loved and anything I could think of to keep me sane. I thought he was going to kill me. There were times when I wanted him to kill me. Questions flowed through my head: “What did I do to deserve this?”, “Why me?”, “How can I get away?”, “What is he going to do next?” The next morning he drove me back to school as if nothing had happened.

I was in shock. I didn’t know what to do. I vowed never to tell anyone about what had happened. I hid the pain and the bruises hoping no one would ask, but part of me wishing that someone would notice something was desperately wrong. I buried my feelings and the pain for a year. The first anniversary of the rape came and went with sudden feelings of depression. The memories came flooding back. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath me. My world as I knew it shattered like a piece of glass. A month later I finally confided in a friend and cried for three hours.

My secret was out. Now what? Help. I needed help in dealing with all the emotions. I put on the mask, pretending to be the “normal” Jen. I would be exhausted by the time night came and I was able to take the mask off. Eventually it became too much to handle. I needed outside help. I told two teachers who I felt could help me cope. I started therapy at school in January. I tried desperately to heal, but things just continued to get worse. I didn’t know how to control my feelings. I was upset, angry, hurt, anxious and sad. I had nightmares, couldn’t focus on my classes, and the things I enjoyed most were a now a burden. There was no end to the pain. I eventually told my mother about what had happened. It felt good to not be hiding it anymore. I wanted nothing but to be normal and happy again.

Summer came and I was so afraid to be away from my newfound support system that I had gained through the struggle of the year. That’s when I found Vera House. I began counseling and Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy. The flashbacks lessened, the nightmares decreased, and now I am becoming a happier person again. I feel more like “me” than I have in a long time. I returned to school refreshed and ready to continue my battle.

It’s like a nightmare that you can’t wake up from. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and I am easily triggered by sights, smells and sounds. I want nothing but to get rid of the horrible images that float through my head daily. I can still feel the pain that he inflicted on me at times, which becomes a terrifying reminder of everything I went through. The physical wounds were just the beginning of my struggle. He left me with emotional scars that I am not sure will ever go away. I try to heal the inner wounds, but new ones are always opened in the process. Questions that can never be answered hang over my head. I still writhe with guilt that this was somehow my fault.  I still question things that I did in order to be put in that situation.

I am so grateful for all of the people who have helped me in my healing along the way. I wish there was a way to repay them for all they have done for me. I can’t change what happened to me, but I can help to educate others. Speaking to other survivors is empowering. Think of what we could do if we all spoke out. That is why I am here today. Today is the one year anniversary of the day that I broke my silence. I have become a volunteer of the Sexual Assault and Victimization Prevention Task Force on my campus to help educate the other students about sexual violence. I want to make a difference in the world.

My healing is far from over. I hold both strength and fear inside me and teeter between the two.  The only thing I can hope for now is to continue on the path of healing. As Alice Sebold said, “I live in a world where the two truths coexist; where both hell and hope lie in the palm of my hand.” 

My name is Jennifer, and I am a survivor of rape. Thank you.

Since the loss of our loved one, the family of Chiarra Seals has not been the same. We think of her constantly . . . often we think we see her in a crowd or someone who resembles her. We miss her laugh, her crazy jokes and antics. We miss having her around on holidays and family get-togethers. Who would have thought that she would be dead at such a young age? It was so unexpected . . . . her children miss her terribly and wonder when will they see her again. How do you tell a 4-year-old that his mother is not coming back?

We are still a family in mourning. We will never forget that fateful day when we were all gathered together, and learned that she was dead. It's like living in the past, and the shock, hurt and pain resurface - and the tears come.

We loved Chiarra - she was our blood - she was close to our hearts. She will always be missed by our family. Yes, we continue to live our lives, but our lives are not the same because of one careless person who decided to be God, and take her life.

 

Aminata's story . . .

My name is Aminata and my country of origin is Liberia. An African woman is raised to honor and obey your husband at all times. Women do not have a voice or any choices. Since our country is so poor, marriages are arranged for the benefit of the whole family. Parents usually choose a husband for you but on occasion a woman who encounters an eligible man can present him to her family for marriage approval, as it was in my case. My family approved of my husband because he lived in America and because of that it was assumed that he had financial stability. A husband who lived in America or is an American citizen is an automatic opportunity for a better life for the whole family.

My husband and I married in Africa in the traditional way in 1988. He brought me to Canada in 1990. From Canada we immigrated to America in 1994. Since our marriage began, my husband has been physically, emotionally, verbally, and sexually abusive. He financially exploited me as well. I worked extremely hard for our business but he kept all the money and left me with all the bills and bad credit. In 2003 I found out that he ruined my credit when I attempted to get my own cell phone. The customer service representative informed me that I had bad credit and I was denied service unless I got a co-signer. I sent for my credit report and was shocked to find that my husband had not paid any bills for the business, utilities or hospital bills. To my surprise he’d put these bills in my name, without my knowledge, leaving me responsible for this financial burden I now carry.

For an African woman or any woman in America who comes from a foreign land, life in America is not an easy transition. The culture and traditions are not the same but you are expected to continue the traditions from your land. For example, in my country if a woman is married and is in a domestic violence situation, she is not allowed to divorce even though she is being abused. The custom is to work it out no matter what with the families help and direction. If a woman still refuses to stay in the marriage, this could cause grounds for her your father to leave her mother which is a punishment of great shame to the family. Most women, especially I, wouldn’t want to put my mother through that suffering so I stayed in my abusive marriage for 18 years.

In those eighteen years of marriage, my husband forced me to have sexual relations because he thought it was his right. In America this behavior is defined as rape or sexual assault but in Africa it is not defined. To even speak of it is considered madness. Now I know that my body is my own and I have a right to say “yes” or “no” to sex.

Eighteen years of pain and tears but no longer. I have taken control of my life back. I have a beautiful daughter that I want to set a good example for and let her know that she and I deserve the happiness of the American Dream. With the help of Vera House, I got an order of protection against my husband and custody of my daughter. My uphill battle is not over though. My husband warned that if I did not stay with him and do as he said, he would have me deported. For years he had threatened and controlled me with this. I finally had enough and said no to him and left him. As a result, a few weeks ago my husband withdrew his petition for my permanent residency in an effort to punish me. So although this circumstance is a difficult one, I will fight to the end to stay in America and raise my daughter here with every opportunity she can have.

Through all of this, I have not given up and never will. I don’t care how many millions of dollars he has or whether he controls the whole world, I will never go back to him, ever. I want to tell women, all women, that if they are in an abusive relationship, there is help and hope. Find the courage to leave and take control of your life back. I did and you can too.

Helen's story . . .

Good afternoon, my name is Helen. I am honored to be here today. I am a victim of domestic violence and I thank you for letting me talk with you all today.

I would like to start off by simply asking a few questions.

▪ How would you feel if you couldn’t walk anywhere in public alone?
I can never be alone. I was always outside during the summer, I have hardly been outside in months and when I do go outside or go anywhere I must be with someone.

▪ Did you ever think that someone could be outside your door listening to everything you say in your home?
I have caught him more than once kneeling down listening; I have since had to put a security camera in front of my door.

▪ Do you ever look over your shoulder when you go somewhere, because you think you are being followed?
I have caught him numerous times following me.

▪ Do you ever feel that someone is watching you?
I have seen him just sitting and watch me from a distance.

▪ Have you ever been threatened by someone and wonder if they would act on their threat?
I have been living it every day for the last three years, since I decided this was not a healthy relationship…

I was in a relationship with this man for a couple of years, and I have spent three years trying to get away from him. He has emotionally and physically abused me. He has insisted that he will never go away. I have to tell someone where I am 24/7 for my safety. I am constantly checking my door to make sure it’s locked because he has tried to break in. He constantly calls from payphones and hangs up. He has warned me on many occasions if I didn’t stay with him I would pay and I would have to deal with the consequences. He has harassed me in so many ways.

Since June 1, 2006, I was fortunate to get an order of protection. But that hasn’t meant anything to him. He has still been active about reminding me he has not forgotten me. He leaves things on my family’s cars. He has people drop things off for him in front of my door. He has mailed letters proclaiming his love and sends cards and flowers. Every time that he is arrested he sues me in small claims court with suits that are ridiculous to prove. He tries anyway to get me upset. He is just more sneaky and dangerous. He is very unpredictable. His behavior changes rapidly - one minute he would be nice, and then he would get violent and vengeful if he doesn’t get what he wants.

How would you like to live like this? I have been living in constant fear for three years. I pray everyday he will just leave me alone. I basically live in a prison. I have lost a lot of weight and I was suffering from anxiety attacks. Today I am a lot better. I am still up most of the night because that’s when he’s most active, and I can’t sleep. I still have bad days, but now thanks to Vera House I have more good days. I thank Vera House for helping me go through this, because just a few months ago I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown because of all the emotional stress he has put me through. I know that if I break down he wins.

I have one last question to ask all of you:

▪ I would like you to ask yourself, what does freedom mean to you?
The definition in Webster’s dictionary states that freedom is being free, being independent, being able to move with ease, and exemption from obligation and discomfort.

I have lost all of that. My life has been turned upside down and will never be the same. For me, today, “Freedom” is being safe and being alive and having the strength and courage to be with you all to share my story. Vera House has shown me how to be safe and that’s my number one priority. Number two is letting what he has done to me and what is doing to me not to affect the rest of my life. It is one day at a time and always being aware of my surroundings. I hope you can put yourself in my shoes to appreciate your freedom. This is the worst nightmare that no one should ever have to live.

Thank you for letting me be a part of your day today. Remember this could be happening to someone you love. It could be your mother, sister, best friend, or even your daughter. Or is it happening to you? Being aware and educated - that is the key.

Thank you.

Crystal's story . . .

I was a helper, a social worker, a feminist before I was hurt. I was the woman telling others not to walk alone, how to be assertive, set clear boundaries and to demand respect in relationships. But then, I went on a date. It seemed that no matter what I said, how I said it, who I was did not have a place in his apartment that night. He was not listening. He was shut off to the strong, feminist saying stop, he didn’t care that she was there; he probably didn’t even comprehend that I was saying stop. I was looking for a way to get out, a way to make him stop, and a way to get him to see me. It turned out I didn’t have that choice and it didn’t matter who I was outside of that apartment.

I feel like the night he raped me was actually a culmination of many small acts of violence and assaults on my femininity and sexuality. Ever since I was small I have been told to be quieter, be smaller, and be thinner. Boys and men have made fun of my body and called me fat ever since I can remember. In high school a teacher severely sexually harassed my sister and me. Our mother, who was also a teacher at the school, did little to publicly stop him, for fear of making her work environment tense. And then, I was the first of my high school friends to come across a close girlfriend at a field party who had just been sexually assaulted. I then felt personally victimized and betrayed as her only advocate when most of our sixteen-year-old friends did not believe her and said they always knew she was a whore.

In ways, I think these experiences did the opposite of making me smaller. They made me bigger. I am a fighter. I didn’t let boys in 7^th grade calling me a cow make me cry - I turned around, looked them in the eye and laughed. But, that night that didn’t work. The craftier I got at trying to get clothes back on, the rougher he got. The more assertive I got, the more physically aggressive he got. There was this horrible moment of surrender where I realized that it was going to be safer to stop fighting, where if I kept up this tough girl thing, it was going to get scarier than I could imagine. This is when I feel like profound injury happened. This is when he didn’t let me be Crystal. I had no choice, I couldn’t fight back - I couldn’t stop him from hurting me.

One of the scariest parts of that night was how he apparently could tell I was a fighter. It was like he wanted me to fight back. He made comments as he got more and more aggressive about me “playing hard to get” and “liking it rough”. Like this was some sexual game that we were playing and that I was enjoying what was going on - that my no’s meant yes - that he knew what I wanted and I didn’t. He repetitively said this. It was his way of not having to listen. I felt like an actress trying to anticipate his next move and negotiate my way around it. How could I play his game and not get hurt? It turned out that I couldn’t, that all along he was planning on him being right and me being wrong.

The night he took me back to his apartment I was a feminist. It just didn’t matter. And the days, weeks, months after I was also a feminist; but that didn’t change the voices in my head replaying tapes of “You were stupid”, “It was your fault” and “You got what you deserved”.

I have been working on ways to take my experience of being raped forward with me. I think of this as the difference between wearing it on my heart and carrying it in a backpack. At first, I was focused on leaving it behind me and returning to following my “safety rules” of not being alone with men I don’t know, etc. It was actually the combination of my own healing work and my work with survivors that taught me that the real task seems to be finding a way to carry it forward. I am searching for ways to understand myself as a survivor and to use it as another part of myself, another way I know myself.
 

Nori's story . . .

My name is Nori. My story begins in Mexico where since the age of four I worked the land from sun up until sun down. There was no time for school or play, just work. I still can’t read or write, not even my own name. My whole family (all twelve of us) worked for one small meal a day and shelter, if you can call an old broken tarp cast over a three-wall shack shelter. Sometimes, we would earn extra meals or treats by “entertaining” tourists after work. It was a shameful way to live and by the time I was 12, I ran away from that life only to fall back into it somewhere else. It seemed that poverty, despair, and corruption is all there was in Mexico, at least for me.

I always heard that there was freedom and a chance for a good life past the border in America. I worked very hard, for many years as a farmer but I never gave up hope that someday I would live that “American Dream”. I tried several times to cross the border and was caught each time and returned to my hell homeland. One day by means I can’t reveal, I did make it to America and landed a job on a migrant farm. For the first time in my life, I worked and made my own money, which I sent back home to help my family still in their struggle. I had warm hot meals and a decent place to rest my head after a hard days work. I even had the luxury of a real toilet and a shower with running water everyday. That may sound funny to someone who has had these things their whole life but for someone who hasn’t it is a luxury one does not take for granted. Life was finally good for me, I thought.

When I met my partner here, she was everything any man would want. She was beautiful, smart, and so kind. She was also an American citizen allegedly with connections that could help me become a citizen myself. I trusted her completely. I was very happy at first but then she changed. At first she made nasty Mexican remarks but she’d apologize. She even began to hit me when she was having a bad day but she’d apologize. Her remarks became more vicious and her hand wasn’t enough to hit me with. The apologies were fewer until there were no apologies given. I was forced to give her all my pay, to perform sexual acts against my will, and tolerate what is nothing less than physical and mental torture. You may ask why a man would tolerate this from a woman. Why would anyone tolerate it from anyone? I’ll tell you why I did in a word……FEAR. The threat of being returned to Mexico was something I could not risk. The threat of worse things to come in America made me do whatever she wanted.

I didn’t know about domestic violence and sexual abuse. I didn’t know a man could be a victim, admit it, and still be a man. One day I overheard a woman speaking about domestic violence in Spanish and she said one phrase to another woman that changed my life. She said, “No one deserves to be abused”. There was compassion and confidence in her voice. Since that day I met Elisa, my way of thinking is different. She gave me options to choose for myself what I wanted to do. She educated me on what domestic and sexual abuse is and undeniably I was a victim. I say I was because she gave me the support I needed to be a survivor. I’m a male survivor of domestic and sexual violence and I am not afraid to say that. It does not make me less of a man, it makes me more of a man. Today is our last meeting. I fled to another camp to escape my now ex-partner and she found me and punished me severely. My body and spirit are broken by a woman I loved and trusted. I’m leaving NY for my safety because that is my choice. I will not be a victim any longer because I am a survivor. I won’t give that up. I hope that these words are helpful to another man or woman who suffers as I did. You too can be a survivor. Peace and blessings to all.

Elisa's Story . . .

My name is Elisa and I am a firm believer that some of the most beautiful things emerge from the ugliest of situations.

As a child I remember fearing the boogey man beneath the bed. As an adult I realized that the real monster lay beside me upon my bed. They say, "Love hurts." This old expression to describe the common ache of a broken heart is becoming the new motto for violent and abusive relationships today. The truth is that love is an emotion. It can't hit, punch, push/shove or kick. It can't break a bone, inflict a bruise, or cause a concussion. Therefore, love can't hurt you, only an abusive person can. I know this for fact because I have survived two abusive relationships in my life and each ended in violence. I learned the hard way that the most dangerous time for a woman in an abusive relationship really is when she attempts to end it and leave. Contrary to what these "monsters" that abused me believed and tried to make me believe, no one deserves to be abused. People are accountable for their own actions and choices. Nothing you say or do can "make" or "justify" a partner crossing the line and assaulting or abusing you. That is why the end of these relationships represents a newfound freedom from violence and abuse that I do not take for granted.

Although I do give myself credit for fighting hard to get to the point I am at today, I did not make it here alone. I had help along the way from some of the most amazing people on the planet. Vera House, Inc. was instrumental in my ending the cycle of violence in my life and I can't sing their praises enough. A good friend gave their hotline number to me years ago when my marriage hit rock bottom. I was apprehensive to make the call because I was in denial of the reality of my life as a victim. That call changed my life. Until that moment, I had been unaware that so many services were available to "people just like me." I was amazed at all the services available for children and even pets. Vera House opened doors for me and walked through them with me.

Due to the efforts of so many, I have finally come to the conclusion that I love and respect myself. I deserve to be in a healthy relationship where my partner loves and respects himself and me. As a mother of two young girls, it is important to me to set a positive example for them and educate them about healthy relationships. Not so they don't make the same mistakes that I have made but to give them as much information as possible so they can make the best choices for themselves in relationships and life in general.

The ugliness I experienced as a domestic and dating violence and abuse victim trampled my spirit, but could not break it. I am a survivor! The beauty is that I now have the opportunity to join my voice with many incredible voices united for the vital cause of raising awareness and ending domestic and dating violence and abuse. Even if it is one life at a time, the cycle can cease to exist and each of us can contribute to making that a reality. You see, "We weren't put on this earth to see through each other but rather to see each other through." I do not know whose quote that is or even if it is worded correctly. However, the message is clear- to help one another.

Today it is my honor to be a Vera House volunteer and Syracuse Area Domestic Violence Coalition member. October is an important month as it is Domestic Violence Awareness month. It also signifies my debut article on the subject at CNY Latino. CNY Latino is an excellent bilingual publication, for which I now write a monthly column regarding domestic violence and related topics. I would like to thank Hugo Acosta, CNY Latino's publisher for the opportunity to reach so many through his publication. To even reach and help one person is beyond a blessing to me.

In ending, I would like to take a moment to thank a few others. To everyone who has ever contributed to Vera House, Inc. in any way, my heartfelt appreciation forever. I extend my sincere gratitude to the Onondaga County District Attorney's office, which is composed of an amazing, dedicated team. Bravo to them because once upon a time I slipped through the cracks of the legal system and they helped restore my faith in a system that does work. I volunteer my Spanish/English translation services to them and feel rewarded each time. I appreciate and respect law enforcement for their significant efforts as well as everyone from A to Z that contributes to this vital cause. My eternal gratitude to my best friend, Deanine, who has been with me every step of the way, I'd be lost without her. Finally, THANK YOU for taking the time to allow me to share these thoughts with you and serve as a reminder that your efforts are not in vain. There IS HOPE and I am proof of that. Thank you and be safe.
 

Janice's story . . . FREEDOM

I was her only child, her first-born, born to her on her l6th birthday.
I didn't know her anger. I didn't know her pain
I thought I was a beautiful birthday present. Boy was I vain!
 
I tried my best to be her good little girl.
I studied hard and earned good grades.
I dotted my I's and crossed my t's.
I remembered my manners, to say thank you and please.
 
"If you can get a B, you can get an A", she would say!
In my mind I'd think
Is it Johnnie Walker Red talking, or is it my mother today?
 
I cleaned her house spotless, but it was never good enough.
When her other babies came along, I cared for them too.
The best that a teenage girl could do.
 
Then Daddy left, and the Divorce papers came.
According to Mommy, Daddy had put our family to shame.
"And you", she said, "are the biggest mistake I have ever made in my life.
It's all your fault that I married your sorry Daddy and became his wife."
 
And from that day on she BEAT me.
She BEAT me because I looked just like Daddy.
She BEAT me because I made Daddy leave.
She BEAT me because I was not Daddy.
She BEAT me until she drew blood, and I became numb to the beatings.
She BEAT me into fear. I was so afraid. Afraid to tell anyone. How she beat me.
 
I met a boy. He and I were both sixteen.
He told me that his Daddy was awfully mean!
He seemed nice. He gained my trust.
I told him about Momma and how she fussed.
 
By graduation, he had a plan.
He said, "Marry me and I'll set you free!"
Freedom. How peaceful that would be.
 
A year into the marriage, I was 19 and full of life
He was a hard worker and I was a stay at home Mom
Because that's the way he said it should be.
My husband, my beautiful baby boy, and me.
 
I thought everything was just fine,
Me, being the perfect Mom and the perfect wife.
Until this stranger came home one Friday night.
 
I had dinner on the stove, and I was dressed to go out.
He said, "Where do you think you're going?"
I said, "Out with some friends". He said, "No you're not."
I said, "Yes I am". He said, "No you're not."
And slapped my face so hard with the back of his hand.
I became numb from the pain.
 
I thought, "This isn't Freedom.
This is Momma, all over again!"
____________
My name is Janice, and I am a survivor of child abuse and domestic violence. I don't think I will ever escape the emotional scars that I earned from childhood and 11 years of a physically abusive marriage, but I do thank God that I had the strength to seek help and take control of my life. I'm a believer that everything happens for a reason, and the experiences that I just shared with you in poem, led me on a journey to a place where I, for the first time in my life, really felt free. That place was at Vera House.

While a resident at Vera House, I was inspired to return to school and pursue a career in Social Work. I took classes at Onondaga Community College and graduated in 2004. I have worked at Vera House as a Volunteer, a Resident Supervisor, a Co-Facilitator for Alternatives to Domestic Violence for Men, and am presently a Case Manager at the Main Shelter. I am presently working on my Bachelor's Degree in Social Work at Syracuse University.

In closing, I just want to say that "We have to talk about Domestic Violence". It can be a silent killer, if we don't talk about it. I was fortunate to walk away with emotional scars. Many others did not survive. If you or someone you know is a victim, tell somebody, set yourself free. If you know someone that you even suspect is being abused, reach out. Ask them if there is something that you can do to help. If you are the person that is being abusive to your partner, seek help. If you just pick up the phone and call a hotline like we have at Vera House, and anonymously talk to someone, it's a start. But do something to keep yourself safe, and everyone involved safe. As a community it is our job to work together to end domestic violence. That is my mission!

When I was asked to speak today at Vera House's Report to the Community I was a bit hesitant at first. While I have shared my experience before with selected individuals I had only once before shared it publicly and in that instance the media was not involved. Among other things I was concerned with how others would perceive me and my experience. I was worried that I would receive different treatment from individuals who had not previously known that I was a survivor. It then occurred to me that my exact fears were part of the reason why rape and sexual assault still occurs. That the societies in which we live in have made it taboo to discuss this vicious crime in which the body is violated and the spirit is maimed. The stigma that is attached to rape, sexual assault and domestic violence makes it difficult if not impossible for some individuals to seek help. Rape, sexual assault and domestic violence all thrive on secrecy and silence but they are not merely a personal issue, they are a societal battle.

My story is no better or worse then anyone else's. Four years ago I was raped by my ex-boy friend in my own room. I had been at a party earlier in the evening at my best friends place and all of my friends were there. I remember having two drinks but feeling like I had more. It was later determined that something probably was put in my drink though it couldn't be proven. At the end of the evening my ex-boy friend offered bring me home since I was feeling ill, was disoriented and unable to stand up and walk very well. My friends didn't think anything of it since they all knew him pretty well. What happened next no one could have predicted. The man who I trusted with my life, who I had spent the last year and a half with and who knew me inside and out climbed into bed with me, held me down and raped me. I tried to push him off me, kick him, do anything I could to stop him but I couldn't move any part of my body. To this day I do not understand nor will I probably ever understand why he did what he did. All I know is that on that night, in that moment, he forever changed who I am and how I will view the world.

Since this was someone I knew and trusted I wasn't able to verbalize what happened to me. While I knew I didn't want to have sexual relations with him that evening, while I knew we did anyway, I didn't know it was rape. I didn't want to tell anyone what happened that night, I was afraid that it was my fault. He was someone I knew and trusted, someone who I had had prior sexual relations with. I had been drinking that evening and was worried that I someone did something to cause this. I never sought counseling and I never reported it. I went for a medical exam merely to make sure I was physically ok but emotionally I was failing apart. I doubted everything I did and said for a long time after that. I was afraid to be intimate with anyone for a while and then I didn't care any more because it didn't matter any more to me. I didn't matter any more to me. It took a long time for me to get to where I am today. I now know that there was nothing I said or did that caused him to rape me. No matter what I drank, how well I knew him, what our prior history was he was the one who made the decision, not me. It is a never ending battle though, it never gets easier but you get stronger every day.

"Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries,
Leaving behind the nights of terror and fear
I rise
In daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
I rise
I rise"

Still I rise Maya Angelou

I am currently finishing up my Masters in Social Work and plan on working as a therapist in the field of rape and sexual assault when I am done in May. I am currently interning at Vera House New Directions Rape and Sexual Assault Services and am very active in prevention and education work as well as counseling work. I am involved annually with the production and planning of the Vagina Monologues, which sheds light on the issues of rape, sexual assault and domestic violence both nationally and internationally as well as the planning of Take Back the Night, a march, rally and speak out that allows individuals to come together to take a stand and make their voices heard.

Thank you for being here and listening to my story and the other women here. I would like to commend them both on their courage and strength. You are truly making a difference. I would like to leave you all with this one thought.

Nancy Venable Raine said, some day we will all march to the capitol carrying flowers, and we will leave them on the steps. We will celebrate anniversaries. We will give names. The month, the day, the year, the hour. We will stop being alone. We will stop being silent.