Street roots., May 25, 2012, Image 1

V
The first in a series examining the complex personal toll o f domestic abuse
BY ROSETTE ROYALE
C O N T R IB U T IN G W R IT E R
n y w h e r e . H e c o u ld b e a n y w h e r e .
A
Around the corner of the apartment
building where they live. Across the street at
the construction site where he works. At the
nearby bar where he sometimes goes for a beer.
She looks around, nervous. What if he sees her?
But she can’t wait. Not anymore. She tightens
her grip on the baby stroller and heads off into the
night.
She has a plan: make it three blocks, to the
shelter for women and children. Borrow someone’s
cell phone, call 911. She tried to dial the number
back at the apartment, but he yanked the phone
out of her hands and broke it to pieces.
She zooms the stroller down the sidewalk of
South Othello Street, heading west toward Martin
Luther King Jr. Way South, a busy intersection in a
diverse, yet gentrifying, south Seattle
neighborhood. On her right, an abandoned lot and
taco truck, on her left, an unfinished luxury
apartment complex. By this time of evening,
heading on midnight, hardly a car drives by. The
light rail station sits empty. She’s all alone.
Except for her son. Their son. Tomorrow he’ll
turn seven months old. About 90 minutes ago,
shortly after the yelling and screaming drew her
neighbors into the hallway, the child cried while
she splashed water on her face in the bathroom of
Apartment 21. Now he sits in his stroller, bundled
up in a blue, fuzzy snowsuit.
In a rush, she forgot to grab her own coat. Not
that she minds. She barely feels the chilly spring
air rushing over the red mark on her throat.
But she can feel her right cheek throb. In the
bathroom mirror, she saw the knot, the swelling,
Inside
Rosette Royale is the assistant editor o f Real Change
News, Street Roots’ sister paper in Seattle, Wash.
only does it draw in the abused and the abuser, it
“G ravity o f A b u se ” grew o u t o f a three-month 2010
Seattle U niversity fellow ship to stu d y fa m ily hom elessness
couple.
in Washington state. The fellowship was funded by the
Gates Foundation. All quotes, thoughts and feelings of
individuals stem from interviews, personal
correspondence, police reports and court documents.
Research for the series lasted 22 months.
the purplish-maroon hematoma that formed under
her eye. But it’s weird. Because when he hit her,
she couldn’t really feel it. It was like she lost
consciousness ... Did she? Did she black out?
Outside, she hustles the stroller down the
sidewalk. Streetlights cast an orange halogen glow,
throw shadows that pile up under bushes, shadows
large enough to hide a grown man. If only she
knew where he went when he left the apartment.
Nearly 16 months ago when she met him back in
Idaho, she had wanted to change her life. He’d told
her the same. They would do it, together. But
things got in the way. The poverty, the drug use,
the drinking, the yelling, the fighting, the fists, the
fear — all of it clouded their vision. All of it weighed
on their lives.
And other lives as well. The best friend. The
neighbor. The roommate. At some point, each
witnessed parts of their turbulent relationship.
People in close contact will feel transformed by the
experience of violence.
But none more so than the woman who flees the
relationship’s fury: Brandy Sweeney, 28, racing a
stroller down a sidewalk on April 29, 2010.
It’s taken her some time, since each abusive
relationship exerts a unique gravitational pull. Not
also attracts the attention of those closest to the
D u e to u n d e rre p o rtin g , th e tr u e n u m b e r of
people caught in abusive relationships is unknown
The Centers for Disease
Control estimates 1.3
million women a year in
the U.S. experience some She can feel her rig h t cheek
type of physical assault by throb. In the bathroom m irror,
a partner. Not every
she saw the knot, the sw elling,
woman survives.
But for the woman who the pnrpllsh-m aroon hem atom a
th at form ed under her eye. But
pulls free, aided by those
around her and her own
It's weird. Because when he hit
ingenuity, she may find,
her, she conldxt't really feel It« It
waiting on the other side,
was like she lost consciousness .
a peace that seemed
impossible when the
Bid she? Bid she black out?
weight of the relationship
pressed down upon her.
That’s what Brandy seeks
now — to end the gravity
of abuse.
So she rushes to the shelter. She can see the
Resources for
building up ahead, illuminated, a beacon several
hundred yards away. A light in a city where she
victims of domestic
hopes to find a better, peaceful life.
violence
211 info: Dial 2-1-1.
Portland Womens’
Treasure Valley
Crisis Line:
n a brisk, winter morning in mid-December
503-235-5333
2008, Brandy Sweeney, then 26, stepped off
a Greyhound in downtown Boise, Idaho,
National Domestic
looking for an emergency shelter for women and Violence Hotline:
1-800-799-SAFE
(7233)
See A BU SE, page 8
O
w
HHR
Bugged out
New federal
guidelines could
change who's
responsible for
removing bed bugs
Page 3
Where wisdom
sleeps
Author Linda Ross
Sivanson publishes a
collection o f stories
from the streets
Page 4
Lewi Longmire
The Portland icon
has found success
on many stages, but
stays true to the
Rose City
Page 10