Taking on Domestic Violence

Nov. 6, 2002

There was a time, not so very long ago, when a man could beat his wife and children and their screams would go unheard. No one would lift a finger to help.
Nancy Stewart and Chris Krajewski of the Women‘s Resource Center in Petoskey remember those days all too well. Days, for instance, when they‘d see a toddler with a broken arm because he got stepped on when his father attacked his mother. Kids with their shoulders dislocated after being yanked hard by a drunken dad... women beaten to the point of comas or death.
“Back in the early ‘80s, domestic violence was kept behind closed doors,“ says Chris, director of the WRC‘s Domestic Abuse Program.
“No one wanted to believe that it was a problem, so prevention was nonexistent,“ adds Nancy, who co-founded the WRC in 1977 and established Safe Home, its first domestic violence shelter. “We were housing women and children in friend‘s homes, and it became really evident that we needed a place to put them.“
Nancy and Chris were among the few courageous women in small towns and cities across America who began organizing shelters for battered women at a time when police, schools and hospitals chose to ignore the problem. They began shedding light on a social epidemic which had been kept behind closed doors for generations. As a result of the efforts of women like them, domestic violence is now widely recognized as a serious problem throughout America, with emergency shelters, crisis intervention, counseling, support groups, legal aid and police protection available to battered women and their children.
And yet the problem persists. The WRC‘s Safe Home has sheltered an average of 100 women and 200 children per year at since 1977. Even more women and chidren are assisted through the program‘s offices in Petoskey, Cheboyggan, Mancelona and Gaylord. “We‘re now serving around 600 people per year in our non-residential program,“ Krajewski says.

THE FACE OF VIOLENCE
The common image of domestic violence is that of an angry, out-of-control man beating his wife and children. But Stewart and Krajewski note that violence manifests itself through a variety of control mechanisms, including the emotional abuse and isolation of a spouse.
“It‘s a pattern of control by one intimate partner over another,“ says Krajewski. “The problem is usually more emotional than physical. Physical abuse might happen once a year, but if a man can control you by keeping the finances away, not allowing you to see you parents, or keeping the car away, then he doesn‘t need to hurt you.“

Domestic abuse can involve:
• physical and sexual assault
• emotional abuse
• social isolation
• minimizing family problems and blaming
• controlling family income
• using children to manipulate a partner
• using coercion, threats and intimidation

Ending domestic abuse requires addressing many angles. “We started out with a really strong shelter program,“ Krajewski notes. “Now there‘s also a non-residential program in place, education going out to the community, hospitals and police, and a strong effort to coordinate a program for survivors.“

WAR STORIES
Both Stewart and Krajewski have risked their lives to help battered women through the years, especially in the early days when domestic violence was still considered a private family matter and men were outraged by meddlers.
Stewart, who radiates an inner sense of warmth and vigor with an impish touch of humor, remembers a funny story from that time:
“One memory I‘ll always have is the time I got a call one night from a woman in a phone booth in East Jordan, and it was snowing and really miserable outside,“ she recalls. “I opened a phone book on my sleeping husband‘s stomach to find out where to go and when I came back three or four hours later, the book was still open on his stomach.“
On another occasion, a 13-year-old boy brought along his father‘s gun as his family fled to safety, fearing that his dad might use it on his mother. In fact, the explosive mix of alcohol, guns and domestic violence means that such shootings are not rare in America.
“Leaving an abusive relationship is the most dangerous time for a family, and if there are guns in the home, that‘s one place the batterer might go when he‘s angry,“ says Krajewski.
“I‘ve been threatened at times,“ says Stewart. “I‘ve had men say they were going to shoot my legs off, but they‘re pussycats really, those guys -- all bluff and blunder.“ She adds that, “There are police back-ups now, but in the early days there was nothing.“
“There have been less than a handful of times that I‘ve really felt my life threatened, but you always have to be aware of a certain level of danger involved,“ says Krajewski.

A SAFE HOME
In the mid-‘70s, Stewart provided sanctuary for battered women and children in her own home and that of friends in Petoskey.
“It was ongoing,“ Stewart recalls. “I had friend who lived not far from me with a guest house that wasn‘t being used, and they‘d let me house women there. I can‘t tell you how many times people would stay in my living room or in those of friends. But after awhile it began to wear my friends out and it became clear we needed a permanent safe house.“
During a memorable meeting, 100 women gathered in Petoskey and passed a hat to establish the area‘s first domestic violence shelter. Little did they know, however, how much needed to be done to address the problem.
A first safe house established in 1978 was run off by neighbors, who didn‘t want it around. A second home was opened on Howard Road in a tiny house jammed with bunk beds in which up to 20 refugees from domestic violence were crammed. The WRC‘s office for five staffers was a former snowmobile repair shop, heated by a wood stove.
Then, Eddi Offield, a financial angel from Harbor Springs, gave the WRC a large grant, making it possible to establish the current Safe Home in a large farmhouse on an acre of land well outside of Petoskey. The remote location keeps kids from shoplifting at local stores or wandering around town where their fathers might see them.
Today, the Safe Home has 24 beds and cribs for the 300 or so women and children who use it yearly. Its establishment was one of many achievements which resulted in Nancy Stewart receiving the first annual Unsung Heroine Award from the Michigan Womens Commission earlier this year.

JUST THE BEGINNING
Like Stewart, Chris Krajewski exudes a dynamic, can-do spirit that lights up the room with possibilities. She came to Petoskey from Green Bay, Wisconsin in 1987, already a veteran of a domestic violence program.
“I really felt like the Womens Resource Center was a part of this city in every part of its fabric,“ she recalls. “Nancy had done a great job of getting the word out and getting the police to back us up. I was really fortunate to arrive at a time for growth.“
Even so, there were challenges. “When I look back, we really had to prioritize what could be done because there were no funds and we were trying to house people in a very basic sort of place,“ Krajewski says.
Then too, the field of domestic violence was wide open and largely unknown in how to address it in a comprehensive manner.
“In the early days there were no courses in the management of domestic violence and a lot of the volunteers didn‘t have experience in how to handle it or the problems of alcohol, which is a big component,“ Stewart notes.
Then too, it was a struggle to interest the police, hospitals, schools and the press. Stewart says she tried for seven months to get the fire department to come out and offer advice on an emergency exit for the Safe Home. “They kept blowing us off -- they thought we‘d just go away. But I kept worrrying about a fire there.“ Ultimately, volunteers from the Presbyterian Church built a fire escape at the home.
Yet things have changed radically for the better now. Today, there are college courses in how to address domestic violence, and it‘s a major component in every police officer‘s training. Today, hospitals take domestic violence seriously and separate partners in the emergency room, instead of letting the husband hover over his battered wife. Hospitals consult with the Domestic Abuse Program on how to handle batterings and rape. And schools are eager to have speakers from the WRC on the subject.
And men are no longer complacent on the subject. Increasingly, there‘s a united front among men that domestic abuse is unacceptable.
“For batterers, it takes a lot to change,“ Krajewski reflects. “But they‘re really a minority of men. What I find interesting is the community at large. Men in general are more approachable about domestic violence and they‘re communicating that it‘s not acceptable.“