The Women's Crisis Center of Greater Newburyport

Thank you for inviting me to speak with you this morning. I am here to talk to you about domestic violence and spirituality. But before I do that, I want to give you a brief overview of the Women's Crisis Center. Eighteen years ago, the agency was created by a group of men and women who were concerned about the lack of resources available to battered women and children.

During the first two years, the agency was run entirely by volunteers until enough money was raised to fund a part-time director. Today we have a staff of eighteen, operate two sites and a safe home, and serve nine communities. The agency offers many different services to battered women; a twenty-four hour crisis hotline, assistance with restraining orders and court proceedings, individual and group counseling, and emergency shelter.

Two years ago, we created the Children of Violence Empowerment project. Studies show that children who witness domestic violence are more likely to be depressed, do poorly is school, have sleep disorders, and resort to violence as a way to resolve conflict. When a woman comes to the crisis center, we are trying to help her remember what it feels like to be nourished and cared for. We are also helping her restore her children to their childhood.

Domestic violence is a pattern of behavior used to establish power and control over another person through fear and intimidation, often including the threat or use of violence. Battering takes many different forms; emotional abuse, economic abuse, sexual abuse, threats, isolation. Batterers use a variety of behaviors to maintain fear, intimidation, and power.

Battering escalates. Battering ususally starts so gently, that you barely notice that there has been a shift. It may start with a slight criticism (i.e. how come you are wearing that?) or request (I wish you'd spend more time with me. It seems like you would rather be with your friends). This kind of attention initially may feel good; he loves me, he doesn't want me to be attractive to other men, he misses me when I'm not around. Once this dynamic has been established, batterers gain more control by name calling, threats, violence in her presence (such as punching a fist through the wall). It may escalate to restraining, pushing, and slapping. Finally, it can become life-threatening.

So what is happening for the woman? She is living every day trying to anticipate what she shouldn't say or do, who she should or shouldn't talk to, what she can wear. Some days her smile is a smile, other days her smile is a taunt, an invitation to grind it into her face. No matter what she does, she cannot fix this. He must hold himself accountable for his actions and make the necessary changes in his life.

We cannot talk about domestic violence without talking about love. Falling in love makes us feel bigger, able, more beautiful, and more loving. Love is one of those things that fulfills our soul's desire to form deep connections. Love gives us not only hope for ourselves, but for each other. Without love and that desire for connection, domestic violence becomes simple. You hurt me, I leave. But when you love that person and you feel responsible for his actions (why wouldn't you – he's been telling you that you are), leaving feels wrong, it feels abrupt, and irresponsible.

I am going to tell you about one woman – about her journey. She was a waitress and he was a fisherman. He was tall, athletic, and handsome. Unlike many of the men she knew, he watched out for her. He met her at the end of every shift and walked her to her car to make sure she was safe. He was good and strong, but she was still careful. She knew too many women whose hearts had been broken, who were careless with their affection. He was not scared away when she said she wanted the relationship to happen slowly.

After a few weeks they began dating. He held her close, he told her his dreams and secrets. She confided in him and told him things she swore she never would. He begged her to tell him her dreams and she was embarrassed to find she didn't really have any. He would laugh and tell her that he had enough dreams for the both of them. But in her heart she knew the truth, he was her dream. The love they shared was her dream. He made her breath stick in her throat and her face flush. And he was good to her. He took her to Boston to see movies and go to restaurants. He told her that her past boyfriends were crazy and they didn't treat her right.

They married one a half years later and moved to California. She would find full-time work and finish her degree at night and he would get on a fishing boat. It was the first time she lived away from her friends and family, but she looked forward to creating their own home. In less than a year, she wrote a letter back home. She had to tell someone how mangled their lives had become. That letter became a short story called "Lesley in California".

Lesley's story is typical of many battered women. She was hit last night and it wasn't the first time. She has limited resources – no money, the electricity has been cut off, her friends and family live far away. Kevin promises her that it wasn't about her; that he hit her because he had been through a tough time and had too much to drink. He hints that once he is making money, everything will be like it used to be; that the electricity will be turned on again, that they will go out on the town and he'll buy her something pretty. She hopes he means what he says – she wants to believe him.

Domestic violence robs its victims of the ability to transcend the present to dream of the possibilities that lie before them. Alice Miller wrote that "violence is the murder of the soul." The soul reminds us of our connection to the world around us. To believe in the possibility of a different life, one must have faith in that which is unseen.

In order to survive, a battered woman has to focus on what is happening right now: Where are the kids, what kind of mood is he in, what am I wearing, are there any weapons around? She is constantly searching for that magic combination that will make him happy or least prevent another fight. When her husband leaves for his fishing trip, Lesley is left alone. Alone to remember what their lives used to be like, to remember what it used to feel like to love him and to be loved. But this is also her opportunity to discover what she knows - she also has some time to reach out for help.

When confronted with a personal experience of domestic violent, most people also experience a crisis of meaning in their lives. Very basic questions arise and are usually expressed in spiritual or philosophical terms: Why is this happening to me? Why isn't God helping me? Or What meaning does this have for my life? This kind of examination is an indication of people's efforts to understand, to make sense out of suffering and to place the experiences in a context of meaning for their lives. These questions are to be seen as a healthy sign because they represent an effort to comprehend what is happening, begin to define what they need to do to feel safe, and seek out resources.

How then do we help a battered woman repair her fractured soul? Along with the hotlines, court proceedings, and shelter, we must also provide spiritual care to these families. To spiritually attend to those needs, we must act as agents of healing. Her first step is to reach out and speak her truth – to tell people what is happening. For too long, she has been spoon-fed the truth by her batterer and told that she deserved it, that if she would change he wouldn't get so mad, or yell at her, or hit her. So the first step is to speak the truth, the second step is to let her know that she is not alone, and the third step is help her find those people, those agencies, those services that will help her dream about a future that is loving, respectful, and safe.

The most important thing we can offer a battered woman, anyone who is suffering is to listen. Many years ago, a young woman woke up in California and wrote her truth down and sent that letter home. She knew she couldn't live in fear any longer. She knew it was better to give up the dream she had for their lives and live alone and heal. She was right. That story was written by my father, Andre Dubus, and the letter was written by me. Thank you.

**Copies of "Lesley in California" are available at the Church.

Suzanne Dubus