And cycles continue, through generations. Boys watch daddy pummel mommy and start practicing their shoves on sisters and cousins. Shoves elevate to punches, now foisted on girlfriends and wives. To curb that cyclical violence, prevention education emphasis is falling to not just entangled adults or even teenagers, but to elementary school students, where impressions begin.
“We don’t always want to equate domestic violence in other conversations we have, like HIV/AIDS, housing, unemployment,” Williams said. “Even if it’s not called ‘domestic violence,’ it’s present. It’s a challenge for us to get our heads around. But we need to look at it from a holistic perspective of making sure our community is healthy.”
He has seen advances in his 30-plus years as an advocate. From literature to counselors that reflect the African-American, and later, the Latino and Asian and Pacific Islander, experience, he can document progress.
In 1993, he and his cohorts were pioneers in tailoring domestic violence prevention efforts for African-American audiences. Today, they find themselves in the company of others, community efforts taking root from Atlanta to Los Angeles, with successes budding, lives being saved.
But it’s still not completed work. Shelters have been a good start and a proven method for some, but may not be the most accessible outlet for every woman. African-Americans still need to dig deeper, look at barriers raised by class and culture and develop their own networks and remedies to address them, he said.
And while wider society is beginning to accept and support those trying to survive abuse, the National Women’s Law Center reported in 2008 that in nine states – Arkansas, Idaho, Mississippi, North Carolina, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Carolina, South Dakota and Wyoming – and the District of Columbia, it is legal to reject survivors of domestic violence for individual health care coverage, citing the abuse as a “pre-existing condition.”
On many fronts, it’s still part education, part action in the battle against domestic abuse.
Washington is working on both ends. On Oct. 24, she will host her second walk in Philadelphia to raise money for the hotlines in the area that direct women in need to crises support services, a lifeline for many fleeing for their lives.
She suffered her abuser for nine years, but it wasn’t until 14 years later that she recognized and understood what she had endured. Once she did, she began speaking out.
Washington will continue to do so, urging other women to chose other options.
She is still “Cookie” to those who knew her when, and “senator” for those who know her now. But she is a victim no more.
Today, Washington is known as an advocate, a voice, a survivor. And more than anything, she hopes other women will walk alongside her, not just this October, but every day.
resources: http://www.blackamericaweb.com/?q=articles/news/moving_america_news/13144/2
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