 |
| Current Dominican Volunteer Francesca Pisano lives and works in Chicago, IL |
My name is Francesca Pisano and I am an
advocate and counselor at Sarah’s Inn, a domestic violence agency. I work with
women and children who are victims and survivors of domestic violence or sexual
assault. I’d like to take the time to transport you to a world you may have
never visited before.
 |
| Sitting Amongst the Clouds |
This morning you woke up to your friend’s dog on top of you because you are sleeping in his spot on the couch. You look across the room to see your children asleep on the pullout couch surrounded by bags full of whatever you were able to grab from your house before you left. Justin, your friend’s husband, is making coffee in the kitchen; you get up to go get some. He wasn’t awake when you got here around 2 am, just a few hours ago. Right before you reach the kitchen door, Karen’s voice travels into the hallway, “…but don’t overreact when you see her. I’m sure her bruises are going to be a lot worse this morning.” If Justin didn’t already know your husband beat you, he sure does now.
Your handsome,
successful husband came home from work at about 7 o’clock last night. The kids
were almost done with their homework, you were cooking in the kitchen and he
went to get changed out of his suit before joining the rest of the family. He
finally came out of the bedroom once the workbooks were put away and the table
was set. In between plating the dishes, you were texting one of your few
friends about the PTA meeting last night that you weren’t allowed to attend
because your husband wouldn’t let you use the car. You could tell his eyes were
on you every time you touched your phone instead of putting more pasta in the
next dish. You knew you’d be getting an earful later…
While the girls
were getting ready for bed, your son and husband sat in front of the TV to
watch the day’s sports recap but you were still in the kitchen cleaning up the
meal’s aftermath. Your husband decided to come reprimand you about your
disrespectful behavior before dinner. He started in a calm voice saying that
you should be less worried about texting people and more worried about feeding
your family. Little by little, his voice got louder… meaner. His words began to
get hurtful as he started cursing at you, calling you worthless. You knew where
this was going, so you tried to leave the room.
That’s when he
grabbed you. “Don’t you walk away when
I’m talking to you!” He held you in a chokehold up against the wall. The
kids were used to the yelling, so they didn’t bother to come out of their safe
spaces, but they never saw him put his hands on you, even though it has
happened before. You knew your son saw blow after blow, slap after slap. All of
a sudden you heard sirens soon followed by a knock on the door. The officer
said, “Your son called and said his dad was killing his mom. The dispatcher
heard the commotion and sent us here immediately.” Those words meant many, many
things. First and foremost, they meant “safety”…followed by “struggle,”
“disaster,” “embarrassment.”
Now, sitting on
the floor of the hallway in Karen’s house at 6:30 in the morning, you hold back
tears while you think of where you’ll be sleeping tonight, how you failed your
beautiful children, what will happen with the police report and the courts, if
Child Protective Services will get involved, and when you will truly feel safe
again.
*Note: All names
are fictitious.
