SEPTEMBER 2018
FTP’S IMPACT 2017-2018
HINGES OF DESTINY choosing hope
TRAINING FOR PEACE women peacekeepers
VOLUNTEERING hope and inspiration
NEAT LITTLE BOX labels as part of our story
OLD WOUNDS sons as survivors
HOPE IS A JOURNEY surviving abuse
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What’s inside let’s talk about hope.
4 HOPE COMES IN MANY FORMS > STACEY TARRANT
Profound experiences help shape the perception of hope.
14 TRAINING FOR PEACE > LEEANN PARTERA Helping women to become
peacemakers in northeast India. 6 THE HINGES OF DESTINY > NORAH KENNEDY Choosing hope
over despair.
8 VOLUNTEERING INSPIRES HOPE > SHERALYNN ROMAN Hope and
inspiration flow both ways at FTP.
16 FITTING INTO A LITTLE NEAT BOX > LISA POST Our labels don’t define us, but
they’re a part of our story.
10 OLD WOUNDS > MAUREEN DAVIS
Sons grow into men who are also survivors of abuse.
18 HOPE IS A JOURNEY > SAMRA ZAFIR Surviving a decade of abuse.
13 FTP’S IMPACT How and who FTP has helped: 2017-2018.
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STACEY TARRANT > EDITOR IN CHIEF LIESJE DOLDERSUM > ART DIRECTOR JEANETTE MCCURDY > COPY-EDITOR SHEILA HARRIS > COPY-EDITOR IMAGES P 6, 8, 9 > EMBRACE PHOTOGRAPHY ALL OTHERS > STOCK
Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence. ~ Helen Keller hope 3
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Hope comes in many forms profound experiences have helped shape my perception of HOPE I have been with Family Transition Place (FTP) for nine years, and I have seen hope come in many forms. Although I don’t work directly with our clients, I have had some profound experiences that have helped shape my perception of what hope is. During my first week on the job, one of my colleagues called out to me to come receive a donation. Brand new to the position, I wasn’t really sure what to do. I was confused when she motioned for me to hold out an open hand, and then dropped five quarters into it. She quickly followed up with, “there’s an eight year old little boy who felt that we needed his tooth fairy money, so he gave it to us a donation.” I don’t remember what I said after that, but I do remember what I did. I grasped the coins, went into my office, closed the door, and quietly sobbed. I remember thinking, “I am not cut out for this job. I can’t do it.” Thankfully, nine years later, I am still here. Since then, I have had many of those moments during my career at the agency. Some have been so heartfelt and beautiful that those memories continue to motivate me in a job that can include a lot of disappointment due to budget cutbacks and loss of funding. Every Christmas, we get tons of cards from clients, thanking us for the wonderful memories
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they made while they called our shelter “home.” They share new chapters of their lives, so full of gratitude and HOPE, that it refuels my belief that we can and do make a difference. The proceeds from the publication of this magazine support the delivery of programs offered by FTP; they support future stories of hope. And so, we are eternally grateful to all our advertisers, volunteer contributors, and everyone behind the scenes who has helped shape this year’s magazine to be a success. If you feel inspired by the content of this magazine, and would like to share it without giving up your hard copy, a digital copy can be found at familytransitionplace.ca. Please share with your friends, family, and co-workers. We appreciate your support. Sincerely,
Stacey Tarrant, Editor in Chief Manager of Development & Community Relations Family Transition Place 519.942.4122 ext. 240 stacey@familytransitionplace.ca
You may not always have a comfortable life and you will not always be able to solve all of the world’s problems at once but don’t ever underestimate the importance you can have because history has shown us that courage can be contagious and hope can take on a life of its own. ~ Michelle Obama
Hope is the only bee that makes honey without flowers. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll
No matter how dark the moment, love and hope are always possible. ~ George Chakiris
The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken if revealed. ~ Charlotte Brontë
Where there’s tea, there’s hope. ~ Arthur Wing Pinero
But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful. ~ Elizabeth Edwards
My favorite fruit is grapes. Because with grapes, you always get another chance. ‘Cause, you know, if you have a crappy apple or a peach, you’re stuck with that crappy piece of fruit. But if you have a crappy grape, no problem just move on to the next. ‘ Grapes: The Fruit of Hope.’ ~Demetri Martin
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The hinges of destiny by Norah Kennedy, Executive Director, Family Transition Place (FTP)
need for that safety is the practical reason a woman needs The message greeted me on a home-décor board propped shelter, but the decision to leave her situation and come to up against my colleague’s wall: I choose Hope. a shelter was made when she chose hope over despair. That As I casually turned away from it, something in the message choice was only the first of many hard decisions she will have stuck with me. It was the word choose, however, and not hope to make if she wants to realize the happier future she has that made me turn back. imagined for herself and her children. It is possibly the most Choice. A 2017 study by Columbia University, as reportimportant choice of her life. ed by Travis Bradbury, author of Emotional Intelligence 2.0, For those of us who work in human services, whether states that an adult makes about 70 decisions a day. As soon we’re working to end violence, to protect children, or to lift as we open our eyes in the morning, decisions must be made: people out of poverty, we, too, must make a choice every day. to snooze or not to snooze, the black sweater or the blue one, I have been asked what keeps me going, working to achieve bran flakes or oatmeal? Once we’re out the door, the choices a vision of a society that I will probably never see. We aren’t go on: stop for gas on the way to work or on the way home, naïve. At FTP, we know that a world with true equality and where to go for lunch, which item on the to-do list will get without gendered violence will probably not be achieved in knocked off first? These are the choices we make every day our lifetimes. This is all too apparent from the multiple calls that will not necessarily alter the course of our lives, but we receive daily from women seeking shelter and counselneed to be made, nonetheless. In the long run, does it matling. (This, despite the work we continue to do to educate ter whether it’s chicken tonight instead of fish? Knowingly or children and youth about healthy relationships, and the adunknowingly, we make choices every day that influence our vocacy we promote with governments and lives. Our choices reflect our values, thereby communities for more resources to support defining our beliefs and dictating our actions. “Choices are the victims and address the root causes of vioAlthough the need to make choices can somehinges of destiny.” lence.) It is apparent in the number of those time feel burdensome, when the right to make ~ Edwin Markham calls we have to redirect (if we can) because one’s own decisions is taken away, we lose a part we are full beyond capacity in the shelter and of ourselves and much of our personal power. have waiting lists for counselling. It is apparent in the frusOver the past few years, the Hope Project has been privitration of women trying to leave the shelter but who can’t leged to host powerful and moving speakers, many of whom because there is literally no housing that is available and afrelated their personal experiences of having had the right to fordable in our community. It is apparent in the number of choose stripped from them by force. Amanda Lindhout was women in Canada killed by their intimate partners in the first kidnapped and held captive for 15 months. Timea Nagy left six months of this year—that number is 78. And it is apparHungary for a wonderful new life in Canada, only to be met at ent in the numerous government policies, both at home and the airport by someone who confined her and sold her for sex. abroad, that appear to be setting women’s rights and those of This year’s speaker, Samra Zafar, was forced, as a child, into an our most vulnerable citizens’, back by years. Until we are able abusive marriage. to understand and effectively work to solve the larger societal The common thread here is that these women who, in the issues that marginalize and disenfranchise people, the numdirest of circumstances, having had all their choices stripped bers of women, children, and men we are serving will just from them, found the courage and the strength to make the keep increasing. most important choice of all: they chose hope over despair. So in the face of that bleak picture, what keeps me going? Choosing hope may be the greatest act of courage possible. What gets me out of bed in the morning and coming to work? It is an act of deliberate optimism. Hope creates an imagined I choose HOPE. Hope that something I do today will make a future better than the present. That vision of a better life prodifference in a person’s life. And hope that, if we just keeping vides the impetus for action that can lead to that future. working hard enough, our vision of a better, safer, kinder At Family Transition Place, organizational goals of Safety, world will someday be realized. Support, and Hope direct our work. Safety is critical—the
Norah Kennedy
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Volunteering inspires HOPE Healing, Opportunity and Empathy. by Sheralynn Roman Family Transition Place (FTP) is a place of HOPE. It’s a place of Healing, Opportunity, Perseverance, and Empathy. It’s a place where clients experience the opportunity to transform their lives and where volunteers have the life-changing experience of helping to change lives. Hope and inspiration seem to flow both ways at FTP according to two of its longest-serving volunteers, Blair Russell and Lenora Netzke. “HOPE is enormous,” says Lenora. Having FTP “help and believe in the people who walk through their doors inspires clients and inspires me to continue volunteering.” Blair echoes Lenora, saying his continued involvement with FTP stems from their “handson” attitude: they “don’t talk, they DO.” For Blair, taking this kind of active role, participating in fundraising walks and with MENtors, is his opportunity to “DO.” Both Blair and Lenora have been with FTP for a number of years, playing active roles in inspiring HOPE through their volunteer experiences. In this issue of HOPE, it’s FTP’s
pleasure to publicly acknowledge and thank these two volunteers for the role they, and many others, have played in helping clients to succeed. Between them, Blair Russell and Lenora Netzke have almost 30 years of volunteer time invested in FTP, where they are amongst the longest-serving volunteers. When asked why they’ve stuck around so long, both credited Executive Director Norah Kennedy as the most important reason they’re still on board. Lenora describes her as “a huge addition to the organization, hugely committed to helping provide families with HOPE” and helping both staff and volunteers feel valued for their contributions. Blair puts it plainly: “Norah impresses me with her leadership. It’s so strong. She walks the talk and she is aligned with the goals of FTP. I am so impressed that I want to stay involved.” For these two long-serving volunteers, it’s Norah’s unique ability to not only make clients feel supported in their journey, but staff and volunteers too. “Our insight and our contribution is valued,” says Lenora. “I feel very proud of who the staff are as people and of what they do every single hour of every single day and am proud that I can play a role in that too.” Joining the organization 12 or 13 years ago at the behest of a work colleague, Blair soon found himself in the position of Treasurer on the Board of Directors. He’s never looked back and loves the opportunity to help spread the message of the important work FTP is doing whenever he is out and about in the community, whether that’s during the fundraising memorial walks (he hasn’t missed one in years), a MENtors event, or on his own personal time. He described a recent opportunity to have a conversation with a fellow sports-team member, explaining what it means to be a feminist and to support women in a way that is proactive, not reactive. FTP inspires him to have those kinds of conversations with others. An engineer by trade, Blair mentioned he “graduated just a couple of years before the École Polytechnique massacre so [FTP] is near and dear to me. I didn’t want to be that guy who engaged in ‘bystander silence.’ It’s a commitment to how I live my life.” Like Norah, he wants to walk the talk. “My lived experience is to want to stay involved, to know that small, incremental changes will eventually help.” Men need to stay
Blair Russell
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involved, he says, to help lead by example in the community, to be role models by taking on the caregiver role, cooking meals, and otherwise leading by example and modelling healthy relationships. While he stepped down from the Board several years ago, Blair continues to be involved in the Finance Committee and with MENtors. Blair says the changes brought on by the strategic planning and visioning exercise done with Norah a few years back also gave him HOPE for the future of FTP. Based on three pillars (having emergency shelter in place; engaging women and children; and educating young boys and girls on what healthy relationships look like), Norah’s vision continues to fuel his enthusiasm. His family is very supportive of his FTP work; one or two of his children and/ or his wife often join him during fundraising events. He takes pride in the fact that his one daughter calls him a “manwoman.” He believes this is what makes him empathetic and it’s this empathy that is a large part of what drives him to continue his involvement at FTP. Lenora Netzke is also a model of empathy. “I can’t imagine how brave these women are to come forward and how much it takes from them to do so. FTP provides a hand up, not hand out, and that, to me, is HOPE,” she says. It’s this philosophy, and the support she herself receives from staff, that drives Lenora to continue her level of hands-on involvement. Feeling valued for her contributions to FTP, she is proud to be part of an organization that supports families in this way. Lenora began her journey with FTP 15 years ago after working with other local organizations like Big Brothers/Big Sisters. She knew members of the Board and they asked for help with a fundraiser, so “that’s where I started,” she explains. Later, given her background in banking, she joined the Finance Committee, where she still serves today. But what excites Lenora most about volunteering is having her “feet on the floor.” She volunteers in the shelter, often working with staff when clients first arrive. She loves helping with the children while staff spend time with Mum. She has also spent time helping women open bank accounts and learn how to budget and plan for their future. Sometimes, she says, scheduled hours don’t apply because you just need to “be there,” perhaps helping with a meal, washing dishes, or playing a game with the kids. The more she spoke, the more it became clear how much Lenora loves the volunteering she does. “I also just help out wherever I’m needed, like last minute at the golf tournament or anywhere I need to be. I’m happy to know I’m helping the organization get through the day.”
Asked what changes she has seen over the years, and why she is still a part of the organization, Lenora echoed Blair’s sentiments: Norah, and several key members of her team, are an inspiration, especially when it comes to fundraising. The size of the building has changed, she notes, and FTP is meeting the needs of the community at large through education on bullying and self-esteem. Both Blair and Lenora feel these empowering and educational programs concerning family violence and prevention will go a long way towards helping prevent the need for a shelter like FTP in the future. These programs—like the shelter, and its staff and volunteers—provide HOPE for a better future: healing in transition, opportunity for change, perseverance to get through each day, and empathy throughout the journey. For Lenora and Blair, the HOPE and inspiration they receive from FTP in return for their volunteer hours and commitment is a fair trade indeed. FTP is grateful to Lenora and Blair and congratulates two of its longest-serving volunteers. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts— volunteers like you give us HOPE for a better tomorrow!
Lenora Netzke
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Old wounds Sons grow into men who are also survivors. by Maureen Davis
I could tell you that I left an abusive marriage 22 years ago; that after 14 years, I was finally more scared to stay than to leave; and that I walked out the door with two young boys and we started over at square one. Instead, I want to tell you about a young man, age 32, a licensed plumber who owns his own home and is in a solid relationship with his common-law girlfriend.He loves baseball, playing in three slow-pitch leagues. He’s a hard-working, stand-up guy who’s doing well for himself. He’s at work one day when a co-worker gets a phone call: his father has died suddenly, unexpectedly. The co-worker is devastated. He and his father were always very close; he described his father as his best friend. The young man watches as his co-worker’s world implodes, the loss tearing him in half. Someone on the crew drives him home; he’s in no shape to get there by himself. An old wound opens in the young man. He wonders how he will learn of his own father’s death. He’s not seen or spoken to him in 17 years. The father who abused his mother throughout his childhood, the father who threatened to kill him along with his younger brother and mother on more than one occasion...the monster of his childhood was real. In a strange, twisted way, he envies his co-worker; to suffer as a result of your father’s death, not as a result of the way he lived...he wonders what it would have been like to have had a father like that, but he’ll never know. He has a reaction he did not expect. He leaves the work site early, feeling himself falling apart. His co-worker is
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merely an acquaintance; the young man doesn’t know his father at all. By the time he arrives home, he’s shaking, crying. The child inside the man wishes he’d had a father whose death would be viewed as a loss, not a relief. He’s home alone and he cannot stem the flow of tears. By this time, he’s screaming, at no one in particular, at a father thousands of miles away who cannot hear him. That phone call tore him in half too, for very different reasons. He would have liked to have had the kind of father whose death would one day bring him to his knees. He’ll get a call one day that his father is dead and he’ll mourn the man his father wasn’t. He will never not be a child of domestic abuse; he cannot unsee or unhear the events of his childhood. He has not succeeded because of his childhood, but in spite of it. A child of domestic abuse will become an adult of domestic abuse. With much love, support, and determination, it will end there; the pattern will not repeat. It will not be until he’s raised a child in a home free of violence, and that child has raised a child in a home free of violence, that the effects of that abuse will not be a part of the legacy. Boys grow into men who are also victims and survivors of domestic abuse. I’d like to thank my son for allowing me to share his story.
Building Communities. Building HOPE.
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Family Transition Place
Inside our doors, women find a warm and welcoming place where their safety and well-being is the most important thing in the world.
2017-18
Our Impact
increase in number of callers on our Support Line over last year
13%
82 women & 47 children
Emergency Shelter
14 women & 12 children
Second Stage Housing
69 women
Support Within Housing/Outreach
4305 calls
Crisis Info Line
377 women
Woman Abuse Counselling
107 women & 19 men
Sexual Abuse Counselling
44 women & 37 children
Child Witness
324 women & 1 man
Transitional Support Services
69 women
Addictions & Outreach
104 women
Rural Response Program
1534 students
Youth Education
9 men
Caring Dads hope 13
Training for peace Helping women to become peacemakers in northeast India. by LeeAnn Partera
LeeAnn Partera (gesturing, at right).
On The Washington Post’s short list of the world’s most under-reported war zones, India’s North East is both ethnically and religiously distinct from the largely Caucasian, non-Christian subcontinent; the people here consider themselves Mongolian and Christian. It has most of the qualities of protracted conflict impervious to intervention or change –from geography and terrain, identity and politically manufactured inequities to cultural norms that marginalise women. It can seem hopeless.
My mind assembles a collage of images and a scene unfolds in my mind’s eye: as village housing smoulders around them, women gather children and salvage pots and implements from the ruin, stirring the meagre remnants of their pantries into soups and dahls, preparing the meal that will sustain and unite them until the next time. And then I see these women leaving their pots and kitchens for the family to sort out, 85 of them, rolling up their sleeves, hiking up their kurta, elbows out, taking all manner of transport from
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Nagaland, Meghalaya, Manipur and Tripura, to Guwahati in Assam, to get themselves trained by an organization called Partera to become peacemakers, equipped to step out of their traditional place, to take their new place. And Yumleima is there. Yumleima has the exquisite cheekbones and eyes typical of the North East. There is a baby at her breast, happily, noisily suckling. She is an unlikely warrior of hope. Other women, from each of the seven regions of the North East, have brought show-and-tell photos and statistics that tell their respective and overlapping stories of violence, reminding themselves and one another why they are there. They learn about women’s human rights, what they are and what happens when women’s rights and cultural rights appear to conflict: that women’s rights supersede social, cultural, and religious norms that circumscribe their freedom of movement and their rights to full political participation, and that violate their rights to the integrity of their person. Yumleima has been active in the struggle to implement Reservation #33 (a law mandating one-third of municipal councils be reserved for women), picketing and marching in the streets of Dimapur, facing down men who have burned buildings and cars to make their point, which is that ‘Reservation #33 is an intolerable assault on our autonomy and our culture!’ From last year’s training, Yumleima knows that this is not true; her rights as a human being trump cultural rights that marginalize women. These women are all weary of endless violence, fed up with lives shaped by exclusionary identity norms, rules, and expectations, tired of the domestic violence within that escalates jointly with the male identify-fuelled violence without, afraid of losing their mother’s grip on sons being trained for violence. They are ready to challenge their opponents whose peace tables yield nothing but more violence. These women are responding to a great and growing yearning to take their places at tables of decision-making, tables from which they have been traditionally excluded. With hardly the space to negotiate their personal status at home, they dream of bringing their peculiarly feminine gifts to the long overdue task of achieving peace. These women are on a mission. They are proud Nagas, Garos, Aos, Karbis, Rengma, Arunchalese, Lota, Angami, and Konyak, and they’ve had enough. Their menfolk trace the privileges and tittles of identity captured in law, border, blood and lineage. They are wary of violations, nurturing long memories of promises reneged whileholding tinderbox sensibilities. Yumleima married across tribal lines and the bride’s brothers rallied the extended family and neighbours to exact appropriate punishment. They surrounded the couple’s house, broke in, and beat the man brutally. Interrupted by a police officer, the mob shot the officer and
killed the groom. Eight months later, the widow bore a son, the one at her breast. The allegiance of these women with the insurgents in the area has long since waned through decades as bearers of collateral damage. The women want skills and credentials impressive enough to warrant their elbows on tables—tables of decision-making of all sorts and, in particular, the ones that hold the potential for peacemaking. They want to get in the way of daily conflicts before they become violent, the kind that deplete their communities’ capacities to imagine another way. Returning home to their respective communities, the 85 women proudly post their diplomas on the wall of their modest homes. These women, those diplomas now announce, are agents of peace! They are ready! And these women announce: No more will we raise our sons to be warriors. You make war and we must pick up the pieces. No more. They understand that the peace journey is both simple and complicated. Beginning with their families, women, as the meaning-makers, can teach their tribal identity as ancient and rich and one of many brilliant threads in a tapestry of colours. They know that validation and appreciation of the others’ identities does not have to come at a cost to their own. The journey, which will include more intensive, play-based, experiential training will take them into political spaces where their voices are not yet recognized. And they will create their own places, building the culture of peace of which they have dreamt for so long.
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Fitting into a neat little box Our labels don’t define us, but they’re a part of our story. by Lisa Post Have you ever treated yourself to a new designer bag? Doesn’t it feel amazing when someone approaches you and says “Eeeek, I LOVE your bag!! Is it a (insert designer name)?” Our society is obsessed with labels. Our clothes and our accessories scream out designer names, our business cards give us bragging rights based on our careers and titles, and we quickly assign labels to the people around us based on ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, gender, political affiliations, and of course, our first impressions of their character. It’s difficult to admit, but many of us do it. It is human nature. There are labels for people in our families, our coworkers, our circles of friends. I know that in all of my circles, I am known the one with the Type A personality—you know, hyper-organized and perhaps a little maniacal about things—which also tends to make me the “bossy one.” Perhaps you can think of a time when you may have referred to someone as “the black girl” or “the gay guy,” or in school, it was ‘the smart one’, ‘the jock’ or ‘the nerd’. It’s short-sighted to reduce people to superficial impressions, but we often do it. I believe that sometimes people enter our lives for a reason, and I was recently inspired by a fabulous woman that I met at a networking event. I was instantly drawn to her energy, and she to mine. At the event, we decided that we should meet for coffee, and after an hour of gabbing at a local coffee shop, she had completely enlightened me. Our chat prompted me to research the impact of labelling people in our society. Suzanne Longstreet and I connected instantly, and she was gracious to open up to me. She told me about her experiences living in an abusive marriage. After mustering up the courage to get herself out of this dangerous situation, she sought help from her friends and family, but was embarrassed by her situation, which left her unwilling to open up fully to anyone. Knowing that she needed emotional help, she turned to the church. They were offering a group for newly separated and divorced people, and she thought she could find some help there. “But then they told me that I couldn’t go into that group because I was a D.V. When I asked what that was, I was told that I was a battered woman, a victim of domestic violence. I started to cry. I didn’t want to have this horrible label.” Perhaps what was most crippling for Suzanne in that moment was that she was suddenly dropped into a neat little box by someone who didn’t know anything about her, outside of that one experience. As I researched labels in society for this piece, I was struck that Suzanne’s perspective was not unique. I found that this was a common feeling by other survivors of domestic violence,
rape victims, cancer survivors, visible minorities, and members of the LGBTQ community. Each group felt like their label was their definition. And if they didn’t fit fully into the confines of that label, it left them feeling like they didn’t really fit anywhere. After speaking at length with a few members of the LGBTQ community, I found that this was perhaps the most difficult for them. Before they came out, they felt pressure to self-identify, felt forced to tick a box, felt as though they had to assign a label to themselves and to their sexuality. Many felt that they didn’t completely fit into a prescribed gay category, which left them feeling like an outcast. Imagine now that your new designer bag didn’t bear the name of a designer, and instead was branded with all of YOUR labels for the world to see. What labels would it show? Keeping in mind that you are not only impacted by the labels imposed upon you by others. I would argue that you are perhaps even more affected by the labels that you have assigned yourself. Our eagerness to belong can leave us feeling like we don’t truly fit anywhere. I AM “the bossy one”, but I am also “the funny one”, “the caretaker”, and “the creative one”. I definitely don’t fit nicely into one specific box. We are all human, which means that we are all unique and complex individuals. None of us fit nicely into one specific little box. Instead, we fit not-so-nicely into many different boxes. “The gay guy” is perhaps also “the black guy” and “the smart one” in school and he likely has even more labels that you don’t even realize. I am happy to fit awkwardly into lots of different boxes and you should be too! Power comes when you can take the shame out of your label and instead embrace it. While it may not be your badge of honour, you need to see your labels, every single one of them, as part of your individuality and understand that each of those labels helped to shape you into the remarkably unique person that you are today. Our labels don’t define us, but they are a big part of our story. For Suzanne, her label as a D.V. will always stay with her, but instead of it being the horrible label that she once thought that it was, she can now acknowledge it as being the start of her journey from feeling invisible to being invincible, and that is a pretty powerful thing. I walked out of that coffee shop with Suzanne’s stories whirling through my mind, her book ‘Invisible to Invincible’ in my hand, and I was inspired. I got home, sat and read her book from cover to cover, and was struck with this message: “Connect with who you are. Be your unique self and shine your bright light out in the world.”
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HOPE is a journey surviving a decade of abuse. by Samra Zafar It was a warm April day when I stood in front of my bathroom mirror with a bruise on my face, and I told myself, “That was the last time.” I was 28, and I had been married for almost 12 years to a man eleven years my senior and who was a stranger to me the day before he became my husband. What had started out as hope for a better future turned into a vicious cycle of humiliation, insults, and eventually physical violence to a point where I was scared for my life. I walked on eggshells all the time, hoping and praying I wouldn’t trigger his anger. But I always seemed to make mistakes, even if I’d lost the right to do so. Over time, darkness became my constant reality. I felt like I was confined in a box, with no light, no way out, and just enough air to survive but not enough to breathe freely. I was not allowed to go out of the house alone, make friends, have money or any independence. I was having suicidal thoughts all the time. I was convinced my life was over. One time, I took a razor blade into the shower and thought about cutting myself, stopping only when I heard my baby cry. I believed my unhappiness was my fault—that the secret to perfect wifehood was eluding me. If I’d just done the dishes better, been quieter, anticipated that he wanted a cup of coffee or a glass of water, then none of this would have happened. When everybody around you says you’re in the wrong, that your dreams aren’t valid, you start to believe that. During that dark time, I learned of a parent drop-in centre called Ontario Early Years, funded by the Ministry of Education. At first, my husband drove me and my three-year-old daughter there, then eventually he gave me permission to walk on my own. I looked forward to those two afternoons a week, when I’d be allowed to step outside by myself without fear, when I’d feel fresh air on my face. It was my small reprieve. The woman who ran the centre recognized some of the signs of abuse in me even before I knew what to call it. She would let me use the centre’s phone to call the Assaulted Women’s Helpline and other resources to talk and get information. She gave me the gift of hope. Years later, after many hard-fought battles with my husband, I started studying at the University of Toronto-Mississauga. I aced every class, and other students gravitated toward me, asking to socialize or study with me. My success changed my thinking. I discovered counselling resources on campus and realized that what had happened to me was wrong. I learned about the cycle of abuse that characterizes so many unhealthy relationships. I learned that my agency had been stripped away.
It took two years of school and counselling, to finally make that decision to leave. It has been seven years since then. Today, I have achieved more success than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. When I reflect on my journey, I know that the game-changer for me was not how smart I was, or how hard-working I was. Certainly, those were factors, but the real difference was the support I had around me, the people who shone a light into my dark world and gave me hope. My new friends on campus watched my children as I went to class or court. My professors nominated and supported me for my awards and scholarships. My mentors guided me through every decision. They showed me that although negativity will always be there, it is just a drop in an ocean of positivity. They believed in me and had faith in me. That taught me to have faith in myself. As a survivor of abuse and now an advocate for human rights, I meet thousands of people trapped in cycles of abuse, oppression, and other adversity. There is always a constant factor that keeps them trapped—the fear of isolation and rejection. Most survivors lack support and friendship from their families and communities, as these connections often dissolve with the ending marriage/relationship. This is especially true in immigrant communities where the level of shame and stigma associated with divorce is much higher. This process of starting a new life can be described as walking into a dark tunnel with little to no direction. The fear of isolation and marginalization, combined with the intimidating process of building a new life, is often so overwhelming that many women go back to their abusers or fall into similar abusive relationship patterns. This is akin to a released prisoner re-offending in order to go back to the safety of prison, due to lack of acceptance and comfort in their new-found “freedom.” Research overwhelmingly indicates that the most essential factor in the healing and success of a survivor is human connection. Receiving support from others is particularly important to help counter the negative effects of abuse patterns. Even one person who can hold their hand and tell them they’re not alone, provide guidance and support, and offer the priceless gift of connection, can help a survivor through this journey of transformation. And we can all make that difference. So, let’s speak up, reach out, and offer connection. Let’s support and empower our survivors. Let’s hold their hands and tell them they are not alone. That small act can make a world of difference in the life of a suvivor. It did in mine.
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