A Teacher Learns to Sell the Public on Protecting Families From Violence
November 10, 2005 | Read Time: 5 minutes
I grew up in Sherman, Tex., and when I was young, my father worked as a feed salesman for the Quaker Oats Company. Then my dad opened his own business selling beauty supplies to barber shops and beauty salons, while my mother handled the bookkeeping and accounting. Of course, when your parents own a family business, that’s where you have your summer job.
I learned two things from working with my parents. From my mother, I learned fiscal accountability.
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If I was so much as a penny off, I had to find that penny, and it didn’t matter how much adding-machine tape it took to find the error. I also watched how my father treated his customers. Regardless of whether he made a sale, he made it a point to stop and talk to barbers and hairdressers. A few weeks later he’d drop in to see how they were doing. He was very much involved in building relationships.
But what I didn’t realize until a couple of years ago is that, while I’ve always thought of myself as an educator, I am really in the business of sales. Over the years, I’ve had to sell the concept of how important dealing with, and responding to, domestic violence is to both businesses and individuals. Much of what I do is make sure people understand why domestic violence is relevant to them, even if they are not victims or perpetrators, and I very much use the skills that I learned from my father to do this.
I went to Austin College, in Sherman, and taught high school for a couple of years. Then I stayed at home for a few more years, then taught again, and finally went back to get my master’s in education at Texas Christian University, in Fort Worth. My first introduction to nonprofit organizations came when I was in graduate school, doing an internship with a mental-health association, and I really got interested in the world of nonprofits and community agencies.
After finishing my degree I went to work as an education staffer at the Parenting Center, which had a mission to prevent child abuse and neglect. One set of our clients were parents who had been identified as needing help with parenting skills, and the other group were people in the community at large. No one is born knowing how to be a parent.
Shortly after I began, my boss, Joan Campbell, who was a wonderful mentor, told me that we were going to do a parenting program at First United Methodist Church, in Fort Worth, which has a huge congregation. Joan told me, “We’re going to do a series of classes on building children’s self-esteem, and I want you to teach the course.” That sounded fine until I asked to see the curriculum. “Well,” she said, “there isn’t any curriculum. You’re going to have to write it.” This was very much a baptism by fire.
However, I put together the curriculum, and I came to realize that I really learned a lot about how to parent my own children by teaching other parents how to behave. I learned the value of letting children experience the consequences of their choices — I see my role as a parent not so much as the person giving the orders, but as the person who determines limits and gives the child the freedom to make mistakes within those limits.
And when I was doing those programs for parents who were potentially abusive, I discovered that child abuse and domestic violence are inextricably linked. I really believe that we will not end child abuse until we end domestic violence.
After eight years at the Parenting Center, I moved 14 years ago to the Women’s Shelter as executive director. We offer housing for battered women and their children, with a staff of 60 and an annual budget of $2.5-million. We shelter about 1,400 different people annually, and counsel or advise another 1,500 to 2,000 in our nonresidential programs. We run a transitional housing program that assists women with legal problems, life-skills training, day care, and finding a livable-wage job. Our educational program with the public schools reaches about 25,000 children, plus educators and parents. For instance, in elementary schools we talk about bullying, and in high school we discuss date violence. In addition to materials for the children, we provide information for parents.
When I first got here, there was tremendous denial about domestic violence and, in spite of the fact that my clients all had their confidentiality protected, I didn’t see a good reason that the Women’s Shelter had to remain the hidden-away gem that it was. I began talking to the community about domestic violence and how important we were to the community. This was back in the days when people would say, “Well, why can’t she just leave?” I remember one man asking me, “Well, what are you going to do for abused men?” I told him that I didn’t know but when I came across an abused man, I’d figure something out.
It was a time when people just couldn’t believe domestic violence was really so prevalent, but fortunately much has changed since then. We’ve made a lot of progress, and what really triggered a change in the public’s consciousness was the O.J. Simpson trial.
With the trial making national headlines, suddenly the issue was out of the closet. We used the trial as an opportunity to say, “These issues are real. Domestic violence happens to people from all walks of life. It happens in your community, and we have to invest money in ending domestic violence.”
Congress passed the Violence Against Women Act in 1998, and large corporations throughout the United States adopted this issue as their focus. And individuals, when faced with the reality of what was happening to women and children, gave more of their discretionary dollars. People are so much better educated now. Today we rarely hear someone ask, “Why can’t she just leave?”
I still do parenting classes and still enjoy them, but in the broader context I’ve come to realize how very much women’s issues matter to me. If what I’m doing now can somehow make a difference in the lives of women in the future, I’ll be very happy to have that as my legacy.
