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Elizabeth Thompson, interim executive
director and Alexandra Micheals, administrative assistant and
fund-raiser
for Humboldt Women for Shelter
by GEORGE RINGWALD
The felicitously named Wish
House in Garberville, a sanctuary for victims of domestic violence,
Marilyn Bowen works the crisis line. "We have many cases
of people being battered," she says. Still, a lot of people
don't want to report their batterings. "Women don't want
the police being called," she explains.
Carin Engen, public relations
person for the past four years, says the situation hasn't changed
much over the years. "There are still people abusing drugs
and alcohol, and as long as you have that, you're going to have
domestic violence. Marilyn is so good at her job; she really
relates to the victims." Parenthetically, she adds:
"We call them `survivors.'"
Bowen, now in her 50s, said
matter-of-factly in a recent telephone interview with the
Journal: "I was battered myself."
("Most of us are,"
confides a staff worker at the Humboldt Women for Shelter in
Eureka.)
Thirty-five years ago Bowen
was married to a man she learned was a paranoid schizophrenic.
"He beat me pretty good," she recalls. "When he
hit my son, that's when I lost it."
One day when he passed out (caused
by the mental problem), she got together the tips she'd saved
from her waitress job, packed up and took off.
"I got three counties away,"
she related, "and still he tracked me down. He kidnapped
my two kids. He took them to Mexico -- he's of Mexican descent
himself."
They were legally divorced in
1976.
Bowen signed the divorce papers
on condition that she could see her children. But her two sons,
now grown men, carry the scars of the childhood abuse. As Bowen
says, "Basically, they grew up being abused by him, and
they're unhappy men. Just real negative."
The scars of domestic violence
are long-lasting, and, indeed, they mark the lives with cruel
impartiality of all concerned -- children, women and the batterers
themselves.
A high rate of domestic violence
Patricia Samson, program director
of Eureka's Humboldt Women for Shelter [at left in photo with Angelique Velasco, crisis
services coordinator], said there's
a clear need for the shelter and not just for women.
"We obviously have a great
number of women here, but not women exclusively."
"That's right," puts
in Alexandra Micheals, administrative assistant and fund-raiser
for the shelter. "That's why we're women for shelter, not
shelter for women."
She goes on: "I think it's
becoming more recognized now that domestic violence isn't just
a problem with women being battered. Men can be battered by women,
men can be battered by other men who are domestic partners, women
can batter other women."
Elizabeth Thompson, the shelter's
interim executive director and its newest member, notes: "Humboldt
county has a much greater arrest rate for domestic violence."
Indicative of the problem's
extent, the shelter last year handled 2,796 telephone calls on
the hot line.
"Alex," as Micheals
is known, said: "The most serious issue in the county obviously
is the number of women killed by their domestic partners. [Just
recently] there was a woman killed by her domestic partner, and
I think within the past 10 years there have been something like
12 murders of women by either husbands or boyfriends or former
spouses. That obviously is the ultimate violence, and the sort
of thing we're trying desperately to intervene and avoid here."
Bill Rodstrom, program coordinator
of the Domestic Violence Project in the District Attorney's Office,
told the Journal that Humboldt County is about 44 percent
higher than the state average for domestic violence cases.
Why?
"There's a pretty high
correlation between poverty rates and domestic violence rates,"
he replies, "even though very wealthy people can have domestic
violence too."
He goes on: "I think there
is more stress among people who are at lower economic levels.
Unemployment rates are usually tied somewhat to domestic violence
rates."
Thompson makes another point
about domestic violence: "What a lot of people don't know
is the most dangerous time -- the most hospitalizations, the
most murders occur when someone is trying to leave a battering
partner. The time in which people need the most careful safety
planning, the most shelter services, the most transportation
out of the area."
At left: Panel from a quilt made from
drawings by children of domestic violence victims.
And yet, as Micheals says: "You
often hear people who have no understanding of the issue say
things like, `Well, why did she allow this to happen to herself?
If somebody hit me, I would just leave. What is her problem?'
But that person just doesn't understand the kind of mind state
that anybody can get into when day after day they have esteem
chipped away until they get to a point where there really is
hopelessness about everything they're thinking and feeling. The
closest you can really compare it to is brain-washing.
"That's why the support
group meeting of clients with staff are so important," she
says.
"They help break patterns
of thought that women who attend have," she explains. "Lowered
self-esteem. The support groups work on changing this kind of
pattern, and on teaching the participants that it's not OK to
allow yourself to be battered, that what happens isn't your fault,
all the mental litanies that go on in the brains of people who
have been abused, particularly over a long period of time."
Rebecca Floyd, who formerly
worked on the management team at the Humboldt Women for Shelter,
said: "We have a very high incidence of domestic violence,
and a lot of it goes unreported, down in the south part of the
county particularly because of pot growing, and here in the north
because of our Native American population out in the boonies.
It's very hard for the Sheriff's Department to get out there
a lot of times."
Since leaving her shelter job
in April, Floyd is now chair of the Domestic Violence Coordinating
Council for DVERT, an acronym for Domestic Violence Response
Team, whose goal is to bring together the various agencies that
operate in the domestic violence field here: for instance, North
Coast Rape Crisis Team, Humboldt Women for Shelter, Children's
Welfare Service, the District Attorney's Office, police and sheriff's
departments, Superior Court judges.
Floyd acknowledges that DVERT
is "not a done deal," meaning it's still in the planning
stages. But if anyone's going to do it, she seems a likely prospect.
She is an intense, committed woman who isn't afraid to step on
big toes and who repeatedly emphasizes the necessity of county-wide
action.
"Although I think the community
is beginning to change," she says, "There has been
very little understanding of what domestic violence is really
about and how we can go about doing something. The law is not
enough, agencies working are not enough; it's gotta be community
response.
"And truly," spewing
out the words rapidly, "this county is being horribly
impacted financially by domestic violence."
A patriarchal society
As a number of other women and
men as well have said in Journal interviews, Floyd traces the
origin of domestic violence to machismo -- "part of the
patriarchal structure of the society that we've been raised with,
that a woman is owned by her man.
"And even though we may
intellectually understand that that's not the way it should be,"
she continues, "it's always gone that way and that is what
domestic violence is about. It's about power and control, and
how we value power and control in our society Is it OK for women
to be angry? No, it's not. It's not nearly as OK for a woman
to be angry as it is acceptable, and in fact probably expected,
for men to be angry. And to express that anger in a physical
way. We consider that `natural.'"
This is what Floyd sees as the
wakeup call for the community.
"The worst are the judges,"
she asserts. "The lack of information and knowledge that
the judges have is horrifying. Good legal help is essential to
victims, and they're not getting it. It's going to take community
pressure to get judges interested."
Floyd relates that she and District
Attorney Terry Farmer once went to the judges "trying to
get them to at least put all the domestic violence cases in one
court, rather than being spread over five courts, which makes
it impossible for agencies who aren't well-funded to begin with
-- to try and give court accompaniment to all the women who want
it."
"Its going to take community
pressure to get the judges interested. It's a very tight clique;
it's very hard for us to influence them."
Another problem has been the
law itself -- in particular assault statutes, which mandate a
relatively short time period in which to bring charges against
a batterer and do not allow victims to sue for attorney's fees.
Those shortcomings appear to have been fixed last week when Gov.
Gray Davis signed legislation that allows a victim of domestic
violence to sue for general, special and punitive damages. The
new law, the work of Assemblywoman Sarah Reyes, D-Fresno, also
gives courts the power to grant equitable relief, an injunction,
costs and reasonable attorney's fees.
Floyd turns to a different subject.
"The damage done to children in domestic violence situations
is horrendous," she says. "Society is breeding a huge
generation of men and women being programmed to domestic violence.
"And I would think that
Humboldt County would be a community that truly embraced this
idea of working together to end domestic violence."
That's where DVERT comes in
-- getting a county-wide awareness through a uniting of agencies
to attack the problem of domestic violence.
Floyd says, "I would like
every victim advocate in the county riding along with police
to see what they encounter; I would like to see every deputy
DA that works with domestic violence going out with the police;
I would like to see police doing volunteer work at the shelter,
and begin to experience these women and children; I would like
to see the deputy DA have to go down and stand in the social
services line with the victim while she tried to get services
and money to feed her kids."
One
woman, who shall be nameless, tells of her volunteer service
working a crisis line in Arcata about 20 years ago.
"I started hearing their
stories, and I was just mortified to think of the things they
went through," she recalls.
She'd get a call, and would
ask: "Are you safe? Can you talk? Sometimes you'd hear screaming
in the background. It was scary.
"I'll never forget -- a
young woman with a baby. She called when she was sure he (the
batterer) was gone. She started to move, staging it very carefully.
We came by in a car and picked her up. She was just scared to
death of this guy."
Another time she went out to
see a victim at her home. "The apartment was trashed, signs
of physical violence all around," she relates. "The
woman had a big black eye."
That is why she remembers the
job as being so scary.
The question is put to leaders
of the Humboldt Women for Shelter -- do they ever have that feeling
of being afraid?
"I don't," Patricia
Samson responds. "I mean, I'm cautious, I'm careful, but
I don't work here with a feeling of fear. In this culture, this
time and day and age, I think everyone is aware of, or should
be aware of, their surroundings, and what's going on."
Elizabeth Thompson puts in:
"I think you can't be afraid and work here, because your
fear adds to the client's fear."
The shelter house, incidentally,
has its own safeguard. The location is strictly confidential,
as is that of the safe house.
Humboldt Women for Shelter Inc.,
now in its 25th year, is a nonprofit organization, with funds
coming primarily through the state, with a little bit of federal
money, plus private donations, some county money and even money
batterers may be required to pay.
Alex Micheals, who just finished
the budget for the fiscal year starting in July, reports that
"all our funds together will probably total about $480,000."
The shelter building and the safe house are leased. "We
run a very lean operation here," she says. "Everything
that comes in goes right back out." At last count, the shelter
had 19 paid staff workers.
Restraining orders ineffective?
The question comes up about
the effectiveness of court-ordered temporary restraining orders
against batterers.
"There's always the issue
of how much difference they make," admits Samson. "The
biggest benefit I can see is that if you have one against an
individual or the cohabitant, then the police actually can arrest
that individual for showing up at your door. But a piece of paper
is not going to guarantee that somebody isn't going to do something
to you."
Micheals adds: "There are
always these people whom a restraining order triggers the batterer
to be more violent."
One encounters these "on
the other hand" responses every now and then in the exploration
of domestic violence.
Rebecca Floyd, for instance,
notes that when people started to work on domestic violence,
they learned that they couldn't get the victim to testify in
court against their batterer. "And the reason you couldn't
do that was because you were putting (the victim) in incredible
danger."
She also evinces her disdain
of a justice system that "doesn't even fine correctly,"
but then adds "the other side of that -- if you actually
fine the perpetrators, you're actually fining the women and children
involved because it's coming from them."
Humboldt Women for Shelter has
had some success with its program for victims of domestic violence.
"They work for other agencies in the community," said
Samson. "You'd be surprised; they come to do trainings and
they were once clients of ours.
"They stay in touch with
us and they can share their stories and encourage people. It's
really important to have that network. We have people who've
been coming for many years. They've gone on with their lives,
but they want to be in touch with us. It's really important for
the women here who are just starting their journey to have that
touchstone."
She notes too that the shelter
has support groups for the children -- it's estimated that 70
percent of the women clients have two or more children -- "a
really important part of our work."
"The children are educated
in nonviolent ways of being -- there are other ways to settle
disputes than hitting. And they're with people here a number
of times a week, and they can see they can be with adults who
don't yell at you and are not angry with you."
Sheri
Johnson [in photo at right]
, who is a former program director
and executive director of Humboldt Women for Shelter and who
is now domestic violence prevention coordinator at the county's
Department of Health and Human Services, reports that there were
four women killed in the past year and a half -- two of whom
were in the process of leaving.
"The other consideration
is the sheer economics of leaving a relationship where there
are combined resources and oftentimes where the batterer is the
sole support. All of the financial records, all the bank accounts,
the cars, the credit cards if there are any -- they're all in
the batterer's name."
And the women victims, Johnson
goes on, "really don't know what is a healthy, violence-free
relationship."
And how does she counsel women
who stay in a relationship?
"If somebody trusts you
enough to tell you about this, just listen without judgment.
Soon as you start trying to give advice, you're already on the
losing end of this situation. The act of listening -- (to) things
you don't even want to know or hear about -- she will think through
in many ways what it is she needs to do. But it's very scary.
She knows more than anyone how to keep safe in that situation.
So (you) just support her by listening and then offering any
kind of support that you can."
Helping the batterers
Pasquale Romano is a therapist
and counselor who runs his own business called MEND/WEND -- standing
for Men Experiencing Non-abusive Directions and Women Experiencing
Non-abusive Directions. He deals primarily with batterers, 70
percent of them coming under court order. He has about 60 clients
who are in for a 52-week program.
Explaining how he counsels batterers,
he said: "Well, you tell 'em that domestic violence is a
crime, that they're criminals, pretty straight out that this
is wrong, you know, pushing somebody or intimidating somebody
-- keep money away from them or make their life hell. We do it
as many ways as possible to let them know it's not a little family
matter. And then we go into talking about the damage that causes
people, so we educate them how the other person experiences that.
We also talk about the rippling effect of domestic violence.
"Children watching you
is a rippling effect, the kids learning it, modeling it; kids
raising their fists to their friends or their girlfriend or their
mother or father -- because they've seen their mother or father
doing it.
"Most of these guys are
operating on thought patterns that they're not even aware of.
If you get really right down to it, most of these guys believe
that under certain circumstances it's OK to push, shove, intimidate
or bully somebody."
They come up with the expected
excuses.
"The main one -- `She caused
it,'" Romano says. "'If she only wouldn't do ___' and
you can fill in the blanks. `I told her and she keeps doing it.
If she wouldn't wear that short skirt. If she just came home
on time. We talked about that the other night, and she agreed
to it. She had an affair. I talked to her about it, and she's
still cheating on me. What's a guy to do? Yeah, I let her have
it! And him too!' Those are the types of things we come across.
"They're threatened,"
Romano says of the batterers. "They're scared of losing
control, losing their women, not being the man they should be.
Puts a lot of pressure on the guys."
Many of the women in MEND/WEND
for treatment are "abuse-reactive," as Romano puts
it.
"They get charged when
they fight back," Romano explains, "and when they react,
the guy calls the cops. The whole police thing is a separate
issue by itself.
"Some of the women feel
the police are biased," Romano concedes, "and some
of the professionals feel that way, and we're working on that."
He recounts the story about
a woman who was abused as a child and in her marriage, over and
over again. "And this one time she struck back, and he called
the cops. She got arrested and was sent here for treatment. That's
one of my worst cases. But we can't undo the charge."
Rodstrom, of the District Attorney's
Office, says that in about 20 percent of the cases, women are
the defendants.
"That comes about when
the officer at the scene has to decide what happened. They may
arrest the woman because the guy's got scratches on his face.
How much of that is self-defense and how much is aggressiveness?
Officers are required to make a reasonable effort to arrest the
predominant aggressor. And that is not so easy. There's a real
need for a lot of training for everybody along the way, whether
it's police officers, judges or prosecutors."
"It gets real technical
and dicey," Romano agrees. "It is a real tough issue."
What's the success rate in the
batterers program?
"I hate that question!"
Romano blurts out, at the same time managing to laugh.
He admits they don't have a
good measurement of that.
"What I say is very, very
subjective," he says. "I think we do a lot of change
for guys. I think their life is really touched here; it's an
incredible experience for these guys."
He does offer this explanation.
"If you're talking about emotional abuse, the success rate
would be fairly low -- maybe 20-30 percent. If you're talking
about physical abuse, I think we do a lot better."
Abusive men don't change
If you talk to Lee Bowker, a
retired professor of sociology in Humboldt State University's
College of Behavioral Sciences and before that a man who, sponsored
by the National Institute of Mental Health, did a survey (in
Wisconsin) of 1,000 victims of battering, he will tell you: "In
the whole 1,000 cases that I studied, not one man spontaneously
reformed. And that is the statistic that people who work with
men have to face."
He recalls that it was "sort
of by accident" that he got into the field. "Reading
the explanations of battering that existed in the late `70s angered
me so much because it was so insulting to the women, who were
treated like cardboard characters."
He goes on: "I've worked
with battered women now for about 25 years, and it's very hard
for me to be sympathetic with batterers."
He's seen the horrors.
"Like one woman wrote to
me from Texas," he relates. "She was a grandmother
and she said if only someone like me had gotten out this information
earlier, her grandson would still be able to see. The batterer,
the person her daughter married, blinded their son as part of
the violence he was doing against his wife. How could anybody
do that?
"A batterer is a criminal
of the worst kind," Bowker continued. "Violent crime
does damage to your body and sears your soul. If you feel invaded
by property crime, what must it be like for somebody who as part
of battering is also raped? Because sexual assault is part of
battering. And with this battering, there's usually child abuse.
"That's the next corollary
of it. I found in my 1,000 cases that 70 percent of the batterings
were violence against children. Sexual assault they try to keep
secret. On the other hand, they might have done it on the rug
and made everybody watch a case where the batterer is showing
her who's boss, and of course it also terrorizes the kids."
Bowker estimates that a quarter
of all American families are violent. That has been consistent
over the last 20 years, he says, and he believes that the same
percentage holds for Humboldt County.
Domestic violence has not sprung
full blown on us. But until fairly recently it was sort of hiding
in the closet. As Sheri Johnson of the county Health Department
says: "It's only in our lifetime we've been able to talk
about these issues out loud. You think about your mom and your
grandmother, nobody talked about this out loud."
But it's always been there,
if sometimes out of society's sight.
"It goes deep, and it didn't
start just recently," notes Patricia Samson. Indeed, it
goes back centuries, perhaps to the beginning of time.
"Not to the beginning of
time," said Sheri Johnson. "Just to the beginning of
patriarchy." Good point, well taken.
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