Today’s story is about “Toni” and the point her story makes as we approach the waning days of October, National Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
ME: Good morning, Toni. How was your weekend?
TONI: (Subdued) Okay, I guess.
ME: Wait, are you okay? Is that a bruise on your forehead. Did you take a fall?
TONI: No, my husband beat me up again. Yesterday he hit me upside my head with the Holy Bible. Can you believe it?
ME: Oh my! I, uh, I’m so sorry, and…
TONI: Thanks for asking. I’ll be okay. This is my second marriage, and like my ex-husband, this husband beats me up too. The story of my life is that I seem to attract abusive men.
Now this was, by all accounts, not the jovial conversation I was accustomed to having with “Toni.” Desperate to do something to help her, the next day I gathered literature on domestic violence with a hotline for victims, put it in an envelope and discretely slipped it to her at her bank window the next day. Was that enough? Could I have done more? I’m haunted with those questions to this day.
You see, “Toni,” probably no more than 120 pounds soaking wet, was at the time a cashier at a local bank near where I lived in Texas. The last time I saw her was well over a decade ago. I pray that she’s still with us, that the words “late” or “dearly departed” are descriptions that’re nonexistent and nowhere near her name, and that she has found the happiness she deserves. Lord knows I hope and pray that.
Now little did I know that “Toni’s” family and mine attended the same church in the area. On the Sunday morning at church before the conversation above, I saw her and her husband seated four rows in front of my family. When service ended, we made our way through the crowded parking lot. From a distance I could see “Toni” and her husband walking hand in hand – Bibles in hand – toward their SUV. But they left before we could catch up and exchange hellos and pleasantries.
Well suffice it to say, I buried that exchange with “Toni” in my memory until October 16, 2025, until it resurfaced during a candlelight vigil for victims of domestic violence at a local church sponsored by The SHARE House Family Violence Crisis Center, a resource for helping individuals and families deal with domestic violence.
The evening’s musical selections and keynote address were outstanding. When it was time for them to speak, survivors of abuse climbed onto the stage and described how they were helped by services offered by the SHARE House. Although all their stories were powerful, for me the most compelling was the one told by a 12-year-old boy who described the feeling of having to walk on eggshells in the presence of an abusive father who made him feel worthless; a “father” who threatened to blow his grandma’s brains out with a gun.
“My job,” the young man said, “was to protect and keep my family safe.” That, readers, from the mouth of a 12-year-old who should by any stretch of the imagination be enjoying the life of any red-blooded 12-year-old. Now here’s the kicker: that young man is today an honor student in school, considered gifted and talented and finds time to mentor other young boys. When he called his mom to join him on the stage, he hugged and gave her a bouquet of flowers as tears flowed (including mine) and barely audible cries in the room preceded an eruption in applause.
My hunch is that “Toni” and millions of others like her are tired of people asking why they keep going back to a person who treats them so viciously. But we don’t walk in their shoes, do we? You see, “Toni’s” story is incomprehensible yet not surprising at all since we’ve seen this story repeated time and time again as typical behaviors by battered women who say that it’s entirely their fault.
Well, “Toni” and others out there, I’ll say and repeat for emphasis: It is not your fault. Never was, never is, period! If he does it once, the probability is then he’ll do it again.
Now if that wasn’t a burden enough for me, what stunned me a few weeks after “Toni” and I talked was the day I walked into my auto insurance office to discuss my policy. Seated behind a desk to my amazement was “Toni’s” behemoth of husband, all six feet one, 240 pounds of a dysfunctional man.
Because all other agents were occupied with other customers, I had no choice but to step into his office where he greeted me with a large hand, one that he probably slapped “Toni” upside her head with. I sat there stone-faced and ignored his attempts at small talk. I excused myself a short while later and – perhaps the small victory it was – I cancelled my policy and switched to another carrier.
“This issue strikes a resonant chord with me for obvious reasons. Every woman and man deserve to be with someone they don’t have to fear, someone who will not abuse you, someone who will not resolve quarrels with his fists,” wrote a Pulitzer Prize winning columnist years ago. “The classic behavior of the battered woman is that they tell themselves that it was a one-time thing, he is really a good guy at heart and love will change him.”
Turning now to behind the scenes and largely unappreciated warriors in the fight against domestic violence.
But first, as an admitted sports junkie, nothing impresses me more than sportscasters who once actually played the game. Take the game of football for example. Undeniably, their commentary is greatly influenced by having personally played the game and experienced the accumulation of concussions, broken bones and operations that come with such a violent sport.
By comparison, personal experiences are sometimes brought to bear as a skill by professionals who work tirelessly to provide help to victims of domestic violence. Dr. Lloyd Fields, whose life has been touched personally as a child growing up in Florida and professionally by the pain of domestic violence, is a perfect example.
You see, because that vigil left me with many unanswered questions, domestic violence specialist, Outreach Coordinator (and pianist) Dr. Fields was gracious enough to meet me at a local coffee shop. And I’ll tell you that I learned more in 90 minutes from this gentleman than I couldn’t possibly have learned in years of independent research. Here’s a snapshot of what he told me.
“Terry, facts are that 1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men experience severe intimate partner physical violence and 1 in 7 women and 1 in 18 men have been stalked. And yes, although most victims of domestic violence are women, men too are victims.”
“The stark reality is that behind every one of those statistics is a story, a personal story,” said Fields. “My advice to men is to engage in courageous conversations with other men to stop domestic violence. That means recognizing the red flags that could suggest that a person you know may be abusive and initiating courageous conversations with men who are potential allies and even having a courageous with the man in the mirror.”
Now if you happen to be a leader of an organization, I’ll close with this piece of advice after you’ve read this narrative; reflect on members of your team (and congregation) and ask yourself who are the 1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men “hiding in plain sight” from the physical and emotional experience of domestic violence?
And who are the men – and, okay, relatively few women – who smile in your face in public while wreaking havoc at home and are abusive beyond imagination? Don’t run. Don’t’ deny. Don’t hide.
At the end of the church service, when the lights were dimmed and candles were lit, each name of those 57 people who died from domestic violence were read aloud. When the last name was read, the face of “Toni” emerged from my memory. And I asked myself, knowing full well that an answer was not forthcoming…. Toni, what else could I have done?”
Terry Howard is an award-winning writer, a contributing writer with the Chattanooga News Chronicle, The American Diversity Report, The Douglas County Sentinel, Blackmarket.com, recipient of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Leadership Award, and third place winner of the Georgia Press Award.
“Toni,” what else could I have done?
Today’s story is about “Toni” and the point her story makes as we approach the waning days of October, National Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
ME: Good morning, Toni. How was your weekend?
TONI: (Subdued) Okay, I guess.
ME: Wait, are you okay? Is that a bruise on your forehead. Did you take a fall?
TONI: No, my husband beat me up again. Yesterday he hit me upside my head with the Holy Bible. Can you believe it?
ME: Oh my! I, uh, I’m so sorry, and…
TONI: Thanks for asking. I’ll be okay. This is my second marriage, and like my ex-husband, this husband beats me up too. The story of my life is that I seem to attract abusive men.
Now this was, by all accounts, not the jovial conversation I was accustomed to having with “Toni.” Desperate to do something to help her, the next day I gathered literature on domestic violence with a hotline for victims, put it in an envelope and discretely slipped it to her at her bank window the next day. Was that enough? Could I have done more? I’m haunted with those questions to this day.
You see, “Toni,” probably no more than 120 pounds soaking wet, was at the time a cashier at a local bank near where I lived in Texas. The last time I saw her was well over a decade ago. I pray that she’s still with us, that the words “late” or “dearly departed” are descriptions that’re nonexistent and nowhere near her name, and that she has found the happiness she deserves. Lord knows I hope and pray that.
Now little did I know that “Toni’s” family and mine attended the same church in the area. On the Sunday morning at church before the conversation above, I saw her and her husband seated four rows in front of my family. When service ended, we made our way through the crowded parking lot. From a distance I could see “Toni” and her husband walking hand in hand – Bibles in hand – toward their SUV. But they left before we could catch up and exchange hellos and pleasantries.
Well suffice it to say, I buried that exchange with “Toni” in my memory until October 16, 2025, until it resurfaced during a candlelight vigil for victims of domestic violence at a local church sponsored by The SHARE House Family Violence Crisis Center, a resource for helping individuals and families deal with domestic violence.
The evening’s musical selections and keynote address were outstanding. When it was time for them to speak, survivors of abuse climbed onto the stage and described how they were helped by services offered by the SHARE House. Although all their stories were powerful, for me the most compelling was the one told by a 12-year-old boy who described the feeling of having to walk on eggshells in the presence of an abusive father who made him feel worthless; a “father” who threatened to blow his grandma’s brains out with a gun.
“My job,” the young man said, “was to protect and keep my family safe.” That, readers, from the mouth of a 12-year-old who should by any stretch of the imagination be enjoying the life of any red-blooded 12-year-old. Now here’s the kicker: that young man is today an honor student in school, considered gifted and talented and finds time to mentor other young boys. When he called his mom to join him on the stage, he hugged and gave her a bouquet of flowers as tears flowed (including mine) and barely audible cries in the room preceded an eruption in applause.
My hunch is that “Toni” and millions of others like her are tired of people asking why they keep going back to a person who treats them so viciously. But we don’t walk in their shoes, do we? You see, “Toni’s” story is incomprehensible yet not surprising at all since we’ve seen this story repeated time and time again as typical behaviors by battered women who say that it’s entirely their fault.
Well, “Toni” and others out there, I’ll say and repeat for emphasis: It is not your fault. Never was, never is, period! If he does it once, the probability is then he’ll do it again.
Now if that wasn’t a burden enough for me, what stunned me a few weeks after “Toni” and I talked was the day I walked into my auto insurance office to discuss my policy. Seated behind a desk to my amazement was “Toni’s” behemoth of husband, all six feet one, 240 pounds of a dysfunctional man.
Because all other agents were occupied with other customers, I had no choice but to step into his office where he greeted me with a large hand, one that he probably slapped “Toni” upside her head with. I sat there stone-faced and ignored his attempts at small talk. I excused myself a short while later and – perhaps the small victory it was – I cancelled my policy and switched to another carrier.
“This issue strikes a resonant chord with me for obvious reasons. Every woman and man deserve to be with someone they don’t have to fear, someone who will not abuse you, someone who will not resolve quarrels with his fists,” wrote a Pulitzer Prize winning columnist years ago. “The classic behavior of the battered woman is that they tell themselves that it was a one-time thing, he is really a good guy at heart and love will change him.”
Turning now to behind the scenes and largely unappreciated warriors in the fight against domestic violence.
But first, as an admitted sports junkie, nothing impresses me more than sportscasters who once actually played the game. Take the game of football for example. Undeniably, their commentary is greatly influenced by having personally played the game and experienced the accumulation of concussions, broken bones and operations that come with such a violent sport.
By comparison, personal experiences are sometimes brought to bear as a skill by professionals who work tirelessly to provide help to victims of domestic violence. Dr. Lloyd Fields, whose life has been touched personally as a child growing up in Florida and professionally by the pain of domestic violence, is a perfect example.
You see, because that vigil left me with many unanswered questions, domestic violence specialist, Outreach Coordinator (and pianist) Dr. Fields was gracious enough to meet me at a local coffee shop. And I’ll tell you that I learned more in 90 minutes from this gentleman than I couldn’t possibly have learned in years of independent research. Here’s a snapshot of what he told me.
“Terry, facts are that 1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men experience severe intimate partner physical violence and 1 in 7 women and 1 in 18 men have been stalked. And yes, although most victims of domestic violence are women, men too are victims.”
“The stark reality is that behind every one of those statistics is a story, a personal story,” said Fields. “My advice to men is to engage in courageous conversations with other men to stop domestic violence. That means recognizing the red flags that could suggest that a person you know may be abusive and initiating courageous conversations with men who are potential allies and even having a courageous with the man in the mirror.”
Now if you happen to be a leader of an organization, I’ll close with this piece of advice after you’ve read this narrative; reflect on members of your team (and congregation) and ask yourself who are the 1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men “hiding in plain sight” from the physical and emotional experience of domestic violence?
And who are the men – and, okay, relatively few women – who smile in your face in public while wreaking havoc at home and are abusive beyond imagination? Don’t run. Don’t’ deny. Don’t hide.
At the end of the church service, when the lights were dimmed and candles were lit, each name of those 57 people who died from domestic violence were read aloud. When the last name was read, the face of “Toni” emerged from my memory. And I asked myself, knowing full well that an answer was not forthcoming…. Toni, what else could I have done?”
Terry Howard is an award-winning writer, a contributing writer with the Chattanooga News Chronicle, The American Diversity Report, The Douglas County Sentinel, Blackmarket.com, recipient of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Leadership Award, and third place winner of the Georgia Press Award.