Unheard of

I’ve told my story of living with domestic violence. I’ve heard the stories of countless women who have lived, and are living, with domestic violence.

It feels taboo even to talk about it. You feel sick and fearful as you eke the words out of your mouth. Will you be believed? Will the person listening think less of you? As little as you think of yourself? Dummy/stupid/weak/pathetic/loser for putting up with it. Living with it. Why didn’t I see? Why didn’t I leave? Why didn’t you leave? Think of the kids.

People who talk about their experiences in this regard are often not heard, and we don’t really want them to speak. Bold statement. This shit is uncomfortable.

And its because it’s uncomfortable that we have to listen.

In my experience, we think of IPV or DV as brutal. Physical. Cowering woman in corner trying to avoid the blows. And so that can be triggering for many people. Deeply uncomfortable, disturbing. If women go into a refuge, they’re safe. We would like to believe that. If we or they talk about what’s happened to them, that’s dangerous, unsafe.

Dont talk about it.

And yet, the inverse is true.

Being in a refuge may make you physically safe for the period you’re there. But there will be texts, phone calls, Facebook messages, yourself, the kids, your family to contend with. It’s lonely. And the more you speak of what’s happened to you, the more people know, the less lonely you feel. The more agency you have. The more power you take back.

The physical stuff is dramatic, it captures attention. But it’s not the stuff that’s most damaging. The verbal, psychological, emotional control mechanisms are what wear you down and keep you there. They are exhausting, and you can’t muster the energy to explain that nor banish the fear to speak of it.

So when you do, you deserve to be heard. We are required to listen. To hear. To act. To not turn away. That’s what’s dangerous. That’s what’s unsafe.

 

What The Aunties Did – September 2016

What the Aunties Did – September 2016

Over the last four weeks, this is what the Aunties have done with everyone’s donations of money and stuff…

We paid for a person to have counselling, and also spent $550 to fix a car that was vital for getting kids to school on the other side of the city from the safe place they are staying right now.

We paid the power and the phone bill for one of the women who is no longer in refuge and was in dire straits after having her benefit cut. Those kinds of pressures can sometimes lead to worse events so we felt it was right to step in and provide relief for her.

We also spent almost $1000 on food, and bought First Aid Kits for two refuges. And we’ve worked on building up our stockpile of kids’ clothes, sheets and towels, and socks; sourced some makeup for a teenager just arrived at refuge; and bought some hairbrushes.

When Aunty Jackie visits the refuge each week to chat with the women and find out what they need, she takes food with her to share. KFC is pretty popular. They’ve asked Aunty Jackie to let us all know how thankful they are that we’re out here doing this stuff, and that knowing people are thinking of them makes it all a bit a less lonely.

And October 1st was the annual “Pamper Day” for single mothers – they had make-up and nails done, and shoulder massages from volunteers. This is something Kris, who runs the refuge, organises once a year for women who have been in the refuge (and some who haven’t) while their kids are taken to Chipmunks for the day.

That’s a pretty nice list of “needs” and “wants” met for September by the Aunties. As always, we need to replenish funds so we can do more in October so PLEASE SHARE THIS with whanau and friends. Here’s the link for donations: https://givealittle.co.nz/cause/kapawhaea/donations
Nga mihi nui,
The Aunties.

Dear Minister – a guest post by MB

Dear Minister,

I want to tell you about my little boy, he’s 4, he’s gorgeous, and he has Autism.

He currently attends a local Free Kindergarten, he has an Education Support Worker for 6 hours a week. I am told this is the maximum time allowed for him.

His support team include, his family, kindy teachers, his ESW, a Speech Therapist and Special Ed teacher. They all work incredibly hard with him and for him.

Minister, do you know how the process works? Let me give you a brief outline of what happens, and how his IEP is set.

1 A meeting is set with his Special Ed teacher
2 Together we go through our day, hour by hour, I have to describe our routine, from waking up, to going to bed.
3 Then I have to prioritize the things that my son struggles with the most, and the things that I struggle with.
4 Then we figure out which of those things transfer to kindy, this is when we set the IEP.

As you would expect, with a hard working support team my son has made good progress. I have been assured he will continue to make progress. I have also been assured that his Autism will never go away, he will never be Neuro Typical.

I have been told that when my son turns 5 and starts school, there will be little/no chance of support for him at school. I have also been told that his ESW is not allowed to help with his transition to school.

Minister, I want you to imagine something for me, lets pretend you broke your leg, you had a cast for 6 weeks, after that time your cast comes off and your DR says to you “Walk Minister” now imagine that you don’t feel comfortable walking unsupported, you would like some physio or perhaps a walking stick, that you could use for a short time, until you could walk unsupported.

You can see where I’m going with this Minister. Thanks to YOU, my son when he turns 5, will be left in a new environment with no support. Because he is Included in the classroom, YOU believe he has no other need.

Minister, he has a need, do you know what Autism is? He struggles to build social relationships, he struggles to voice his opinion. He doesn’t learn the way a Neuro typical child does. YOU believe this is ok, he’s included, but not supported.

Minister, how is his teacher supported? He/she will need to assess my sons knowledge. This will take time, as the guidelines YOU have in place are not suited to him. Minister, how are the other children supported? Maybe there will be other kids with Autism or a learning difference in my sons class, YOU believe this is good, they are included, not supported.

The school will try to help, Maybe my son will be put together with other kids into a remedial group? Making children who struggle socially work together in a Neuro Typical way. – Included, but not supported.

Minister, I suggest you look at giving these kids a fair chance at a decent education. Increasing support for new entrants and teachers is a way to go, building on the ECE support, and giving kids a good start to school is only going to help right?

What do you need?

Almost four  years ago, I rang someone from a local women’s refuge.

She came to get what I had. I told her I had a wide social media network and asked her: what do you need? Her face lit up, and out it spilled….

It was a simple question, and it has led to enriching relationships, valuable insights and my heart’s passion.

 

I’ve been an Aunty all my life. I come from a blended family with much older siblings, so from an early age I was not only technically an Aunty, but an active one. I helped to raise one of my nieces, and I have always been a source of advice and love for my many nieces, and nephews.

As I have grown older, those things were less needed, and I found myself being the “naughty Aunty” – the subversive one, swimming naked and encouraging my nieces not to be ashamed of their bodies. But I saw them less and less, and they’re all adults now anyway.

What’s an Aunty to do?

Well, fabulously, also as I’ve grown older, I became a source of Aunty wisdom to the families of the children I teach. I’ve always taught in communities where néed was great – refugee and migrant communities where people live on very little and hold much love and respect for the Aunties in their lives. And as I worked in these communities, it dawned on me very slowly. It wasn’t the kids who were in need of an aunty figure, it was the mums. Struggling, some unsure of where to turn.

The other thing I’ve always had a big heart for is social justice, and in my work these concepts of advocating for young mums, and looking after them, intersected.

I had always advocated that kids come from families and if you don’t look after families then social problems deepen.

And so back to that simple question.

What do you need?

 

Because it has been my experience, that we don’t ask people what they need. We often don’t ask them anything. We give. We assume. We judge.

We walk past a homeless person on the street – do I give them money? Won’t they just spend it on drugs?

We give money to an organisation, a charity, not often to individuals because we can’t be sure that money will go where it SHOULD go. Education, food, shoes. Whatever.

But nobody ever asks a person: What do you need? Ask for anything, and I’ll try my best to get it for you. I don’t care why you want it, I don’t care what you do with it. If you say you need it, I believe you. That’s the basis of the Aunties. No judgement, all compassion. Just doing the do.

 

At first, I used Twitter to relay needs to my social media networks and initially I was helping out just one woman who was resident at the refuge. I went to the refuge for the first time and one of the women said to me “Thank you for being our friend”. I was taken aback. Of course! These women needed a friend. And then my best friend of 33 years died. My world exploded, and as I took time to lick my wounds, I knew that if I was to support the women in any sustainable way, other people had to be involved. And the Aunties (Twitter Aunties, now The Aunties) were born.

 

Why Aunties? At first, I used the name because I’m not a mum, and my role in life seemed to be that of an Aunty. A friend, an advocate, a mentor, listener, adviser, a shoulder to cry on. Not interested in why, more invested n how. Big heart, big compassion, practical know how. That’s what an Aunty looked like to me.

So I actively sought out people – and they actively sought me out – who fit this criteria. I would have conversations with people I didn’t know and ask them – do you want to be an Aunty? Sometimes the answer was no, sometimes the answer has been an overcoming yes! Not everybody is cut out to be an Aunty. I have always recognised that, for whatever reason, for some people it’s just too big an ask. Always when I’m asking, I know that the question I’m really asking people is: what do you need? It’s okay not to need my brand of social justice. And it’s okay to need to do what you can, when you can, as you feel able to do it.

 

So the last few years this group of people – the Aunties – has expanded in number. And as each new person gives something – clothes, shoes, money, a heater – the heart of The Aunties has grown. More and more people aren’t just offering things to me, they are asking: what do you need?

 

I ask the women when I go to the refuge: what do you need? And they tell me.

I ask the refuge staff: what do you need? And they tell me.

I ask people who I can see need something. What do you need?

 

And they tell me.

 

In my experience, if you just ask people what they need, and you follow up on that, they come to trust you. They may not know exactly what they need right at that moment, but it’s the start of the conversation.

When they trust you, and if you tell them that they can ask for whatever they want, they are more likely to tell you exactly what it is that they need.

And so it goes.

 

And in the asking of that question to other people, I’ve learned to ask myself that question, and found that what I needed was to do more Auntying. Because the thing about need, and building relationships in order to meet it, is that you come to realise that, at base, we all just have some basic needs. To be loved, to be listened to, to be seen.

And so in striving to fill need, I have myself answered my own question of what I need.

I have sold my house.

I have quit my job.

I’m going to be a full time Aunty.