De facto wife was virtual prisoner

Press, 22 September 1983, Page 16

De facto wife was virtual prisoner

JACQUELINE STEINCAMP

talks to a

woman who found a place of refuge in Christchurch.

“A dollar given to the Women’s Refuge street appeal on September 30 is an act of belief,” says the Christchurch Women’s Refuge Collective. “It affirms your belief that women should not endure violent relationships. It affirms that you believe that they should try to make a better life elsewhere for themselves and the children.”

The refuge, first set up in a condemned council house in Kilmore Street in 1973, last year provided refuge for 192 women and 372 children. The 1981 figures were 177 and 309 respectively. Today the Women’s Refuge Centre Society has two comfortable houses, thanks to the city’s emergency housing scheme. One is sanctuary for up to 25 women and children. It is full at present. The other house holds 15.

Joanne, a former resident, came to talk to me. A slight, sad-eyed woman of thirty-odd, she is making a new life for herself in a Bryndwr state house. She brought with her a goodlooking two-year-old who sat. quietly by her side during the hour-long interview.

During the eight years of her de facto marriage, Joanne said, she bore three children, was kept almost a prisoner in the house, and endured four years of verbal intimidation and abuse.

Like so many wife batterers, her husband was both jealous and suspicious. He grew angry if she saw her friends and disliked her

leaving the house. To make sure she stayed at home, he did all the shopping for her. If she or the children needed shoes or clothes, he would come with them, and pay for the goods himself. Joanne’s dependence and feelings of imprisonment were heightened by her lack of money, and the fact that she was not trusted to shop or to pay bills. The only cash she handled was her ?5 weekly spending money. She feels now that her total financial ignorance has been her worst handicap since leaving the relationship. “I didn’t know how to budget; I didn’t know the value of money. We were in real financial strife a few times,” she says.

Joanne never had any delusions about her status. She was a servant who had to jump to every command. “He was The Boss. What he said goes. I cooked meals when he said — any hour of the day or night. I did everything when he said and how he said. But I could never please him. He used to shout and abuse me about my cooking, and said I didn’t look after the house the way he wanted.” Joanne blames alcohol for much of her husband’s increasingly irrational behaviour and violence. Things had not been too bad before he startfUstaying out drinking with nis friends

“My family had been telling me to get out for years, and one night when he threatened to snap my neck — he was holding me so that he could have done it with ease — I decided that the time had come.”

Why hadn’t she got out before? Lack of money, fear, hope that things would turn out better — all these had played a part in keeping Joanne prisoner. She had never heard of refuges; she did not know that there were groups who helped women get out of violent relationships. It was only after a family member told her about the Women’s Refuge that she decided to act. One Friday morning, after her husband had gone off to his job (“a good one” Joanne says) she rang Refuge. Her clothes and those of the children were packed by the time a volunteer came to move her and the children out. It was as simple as that. Joanne has nothing but praise for the help she was given by the Refuge. As she had no money, emergency supplies were provided to last the family through the weekend. During those two days she examined her situation and discussed it with others. By Monday morning, her mind was made up. A Refuge worker took her to the Social Wkfare Department where she

applied for the domestic purposes benefit and was given $3O to last her for the two weeks till the benefit came through.

Joanne enjoyed her three months at the Refuge. She made a number of good friends, and the children enjoyed the companionship and the facilities provided for them.

“I was just about cracking up when I made that call,” she admits. “Refuge helpers encouraged and supported me all through that difficult time, and I’ll never forget it. They went with me to the lawyer and supported me through a dreadful series of custody hearings. Even though these took place after we’d left the Refuge, volunteers picked the children up and looked after them for me, and someone stayed in the court buildings all day just to give me moral support.” By many standards, Joanne’s future does not look bright. She has no idea how long she will stay on the domestic purposes benefit. But she is delighted with her freedom. The regular income a state house and help from the Refuge has given her feelings of security and self-worth — and a

future that she can be sure of having. Last year’s running expenses for the two Refuge houses came to $14,500. It seems little enough — with 192 women and 372 children being housed, sometimes for considerable periods, this averages $26 per head. About a third of the Refuge income is from fami-

lies using the houses; the rest has come from grants from the Lottery Fund, the Christchurch City Council, other local councils and the Canterbury Savings Bank.

Last year’s Street Appeal netted $3600. This year, expenses have risen in spite of the freeze, and Refuge volunteers are hoping for more.