Angela Gillaspie of Southern Angel

Lynda looked up at the redheaded policewoman and said, "There'th been a missthake." The smoke from the cigarette in her hand drifted up toward the yellowed ceiling and she looked at these dozen women and men in navy that were descending upon her apartment. She thought of her undergarments hanging to dry in the one bathroom that she shared with her husband and eighteen month old son and hoped the officers wouldn't peek in there.

Stubbing out her smoke, she was quick to anger at her neighbors, Barb and Mitch, who called the law on her again. She passes them in the hallway and they look away because they always have something more important to handle just beyond the corner. Why must they get involved in something that is none of their business?

At night she would draw her cold feet under herself and think of the folks that live next door. Mitch leaves in the morning and Barb stays home pretty much most of the day. Lynda occasionally saw Barb in the wash room, pushing quarters into the dryers. Even then, these women of common dirty clothes would politely ignore each other in this small room filled with clothes washers and dryers.

On Fridays, Mitch would bring home three to four sacks of groceries from the corner market, according to the red lettering on the paper sacks. Lynda imagined Barb smiling at her husband as they unloaded the bags of food together.

Looking down at the small white and balled wad of toilet paper in her hands, Lynda dabbed her eyes, winced at the pain, and said the officers, "We had a dithagreement."

Her left eye was swollen almost shut and her puffed lips made speaking troublesome. Out in the hallway, she heard James telling the statuesque officer that he didn't know what the problem was.

"Tell them, James," she thought, "you just tell them what a great man you are!"

Having James in her life gave her a reason to get up in the morning. This man loved her and made her life worth living. Without him, she would cease to exist. If it weren't for him, she would fade away just like the morning dew fades in the warm sun.

She sees James being handcuffed and she flings herself at the policeman, "He ain't done nothin'! Don't take 'im from me! Don't take my baby from me. Pleath!" Ms. Redhead Policewoman firmly pulls her back as James is led to the squad car.

"A social worker will be arriving soon to talk to you Ms. Perry," Redhead says, "Do you need a paramedic to look at your wounds?"

Lynda cries harder and tries to explain, "James ith a good man, we justh had a dithagreement. I should go to jail insthed of 'im. I ain't hurt. I want you to go away now."

This scene plays out all over the world. It isn't race-specific, it isn't social class-specific, and it isn't age-specific.

Many of us can't understand how a woman would allow this treatment, and we loudly voice what we'd do if our significant other dared to touch us. The truth is that we can't honestly say how we would act in this situation because we are fortunately NOT in this situation.

The fruit of a battered woman is fear. After a long period of abuse, the woman is afraid for herself and if she has any children, she fears for their safety as well. This woman has low self-esteem and actually thinks that she deserves the slaps, taunts, and punches.

The abuser usually is filled with anger, resentment, suspicion, and tension. Underneath his ego is a large reservoir of insecurity. He often feels like a loser and he uses violence to vent his hostile feelings. In the sanctity of his home, he can rave all he wants without any repercussions. He will target his wife with his vengeance and he will get the satisfaction he is looking for.

Why do women stay? They may not have anywhere to go, or she feels her husband will change his ways. Shame is a major player in this sad story too, because she may not leave this abusive situation due to the shame she feels. Fear of rebuttal can also cause a woman to stand by her man.

To get help, the woman first needs to admit that she is a victim. She has the right to feel safe from physical harm, especially in her own home. Next, she should have a place to go, such as an emergency shelter, a social service agency, or the home of a trusted friend or relative.

The bottom line is that a woman has to determine her own best course of action. She needs to develop a positive self-image and know that she is important and valuable.

Since this article about Lynda is fictitious, I could write a beautiful ending where she finds God, discovers her true worth, and heals both her body and spirit. But in the real world, Lynda will continue to be abused and will mostly likely become a domestic violence statistic. She's in a world of hurt.

Copyright 2000