21 October 2002

Abused Women in France

When we first arrived in Senlis one of our tasks was to open a bank account.  Without a bank number we couldn’t even rent a mobile phone.

The woman we were referred to at the bank spoke some English and was very kind to us.  She asked me to give her a list of places I needed to find, and she offered to help with some French lessons.  At first I was a little overwhelmed with her kindness, but I followed through with a list just to see if she was serious about helping me.

The next time I went to the bank there she was, waiting with a smile and a small shopping bag filled with catalogues, samples and a long list of phone numbers and addresses.  From that moment on I knew we would become friends.

After we settled into our house, we started meeting at her lovely modern house in a nearby village.  She lived with three almost adult daughters and a husband.  At some point Jay made the comment that I should go by myself next time because our teacher needed to talk.  “Ok”, I thought but that seemed strange that he would pick up on that. 

I already guessed she had problems because she would tell me she couldn’t schedule a lesson when her husband was at home because he didn’t want her to be doing anything when he was at home.  She followed that with a strange silence and then said, “Do you understand what I mean?” 

At our next French lesson she started out by giving me a tour of her house and as we entered her daughter’s bedroom she began to pour her heart out to me.  Her husband had been fired from his job seven years earlier and from that moment on he became someone she didn’t know.  Even when he landed a new well-paying job he couldn’t seem to let go of the mean streak he now showed to her and the children.

Some days he was the man she had married…sweet and caring.  Most days he said cruel things that made her feel bad about herself.  As their last wedding anniversary date came close he promised a romantic trip to Italy to celebrate.  Two weeks before their trip he said he was buying a motorcycle and would have no money to take her to Italy. 

She went to see a counselor who told her she had lost her self-esteem.  She began to work on finding confidence.

All of this brought back memories of over 20 years ago when I fled the abuse and violence I suffered as a young farm wife in Albany, Ohio.  I remembered the fear and the heartbreak.  Just like my newfound friend, I didn’t want to break up my family.  I ended up in hiding for fear for my life.

The worst part of the whole conversation with my teacher was that I didn’t know the phone number of any place that could help her.  I was really frustrated because for the past 20 years I had spent my life helping battered and abused women. 

I did suggest that she ask the counselor where to find a support group for abused women.  As I shared my personal story with her, she shook her head in understanding.  I told her I was afraid for her safety because when her husband realized that she was not going to tolerate his behavior any longer he would likely resort to physical violence.  She just couldn’t believe that he would hit her.  In fact she kept saying, “I am not like the other women because he has not hit me”. 

When I left her that day I made her promise me that she would pack a bag of important papers and a change of clothes so that if she had to leave quickly she would have things that she needed.  I gave her my mobile number to keep in a safe place so if she needed me she could call.  She pushed aside my offer of a room for her and her daughters. 

As I drove back home I felt sad…sad that people are so insecure that they have to use power and control over those they love to feel good about themselves.  I felt disappointed in myself that I didn’t know the phone number or location of a place that could help her. 

I asked my friend Natalie if she knew how to get in tough with the family violence program.  She didn’t know if there was such a program.  She said nobody wants to admit “those kind of things go on”.  I went to the police station and there were no posters or cards on family violence.  My friend Sharon told me the same thing as Natalie.

Now I am on a quest.  Natalie has agreed to go with me to the local government family assistance program run to see what they know about services to abused women.  So far all we know that if a woman is raped she must call Paris.  I am not encouraged, but I will withhold judgment until I know the whole situation.

NOTE:  At the bottom of this article please print the National Domestic Violence Hotline number and other local information to assist abused women.  Thank you.