Goddesses

NEW

WRITING

FROM

STAFFORDSHIRE

WOMEN’S

AID

Goddesses

This booklet is dedicated to all women in abusive relationships.

Get up, get out, get on!

Work from StaffordSHIRE Women’s Aid Let me tell you a secret. Women who have been beaten up or neglected don’t look like you expect them to. They don’t shake and cower in a corner (not always); they don’t weep into their hankies (not always). They aren’t helpless - in fact they’re usually mad as hell. They are working at the desk next to you, driving your bus, getting on with their lives. Sometimes, they are writing poems.

Women’s Aid, Staffordshire, has just reached its thirtieth anniversary. Its teams work daily with abused women. When you walk out of an abusive home you need somewhere to live; help in finding work, or a school for the kids; legal advice. Women’s Aid help to sort these things out. You also need support, which can mean simple reassurance, or just chatting about the weather with people who have been through the same thing. You may even need to do something creative, to give you a little boost and remind you what you’re capable of.

With that in mind, Women’s Aid asked me to run five creative writing sessions at their meeting place, the Artemis Project. I did some homework on Artemis and her heavenly chums. These Greek goddesses were furious and funny, vulnerable and strong. They had powerful stories, and a lot of bad love affairs behind them. Many had vowed to be celibate.

It all sounded a bit familiar…. Our sessions were based on five of these goddesses, and this collection presents some of the work that resulted. My thanks to all the women for their patience, their willingness to try anything, and their openness. Sometimes down, but never out.

Nowadays we don’t expect to find goddesses anywhere except in stories and film scripts.

But as ink started to flow, I realised that they are still out there. Aphrodite, goddess of love, rose from the sea in Cyprus but is equally at home in the Trent & Mersey Canal.

Hestia, goddess of home and hearth, is as comfortable by the radiators of Stafford as she was by the fires of ancient Greece. Athena, goddess of learning and fighting, knows how often they go together. Hecate, witch-like goddess of the afterworld, was with us on the day we started to write curses! Above all, when women go looking for their own strength, the sassy hunter Artemis is right there, winking from behind the trees in the old hunting grounds of Cannock Chase.

Of course there are no fairies at the bottom of the garden. They are far more powerful than that. Abusive partners beware - the thing you glimpsed out of the corner of your eye might be a flash of shield, a glimpse of burnished helmet - the glint from Artemis’s arrow.

Jo Bell

Artemis Artemis was the goddess of hunting, chastity, the moon and strength. She had a nice line in revenge too, turning one peeping tom into a stag who was hunted to death by his own hounds. We asked ourselves - where does strength come from?

From supportive friends, from a love of our children, from righteous anger or painful experience, from memory?

We wrote ‘rules for living’ to pass on advice for others, and talked about moments in our own lives when we learned what strength was.

PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)

Legs like jelly, Heart like a banging drum, Washing in basket Up the garden I must run.

Can I make it, all alone To the line, pegs in hand?

Palms sweating, NO - upon my knees I land.

The chore not complete Upon this washing day, But I tried to find strength Panic attacks to put at bay.

Tuesday

Panic attacks to put at bay.

24 Hours Long days and sleepless nights Constant rowing and nasty fights.

Noisy doors and toilets flushing, Enough to get the adrenaline rushing.

Heavy air in a silent room Time to think about the imminent gloom.

Submissive behaviour and another long day I have a voice, I want to say.

Jayne

Tuesday

Rules for Living 1 2 3

4 5

When you wake up in the morning tell yourself how wonderful you are Eat food regularly Remember you are your own person and you can do what you want not what others tell you to do!

Have at least one glass of wine a day Have a laugh every day

Jennie

Rules for Living 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Take people’s advice - but they’re not always right Look out for dangers, but enjoy life Smile, even though you’re hurting inside Don’t take things too seriously Eat what you want - diet tomorrow!

Keep an open mind Live for today Take time to reflect on the day Don’t dwell on the past Look to the future Be happy - enjoy life Live life for today Don’t look for love - let it find you Learn to love yourself

Jackie

Panic attacks to put at bay.

Tuesday

New beginning I look round and see my beautiful house smashed to pieces. I see visions of me somewhere else. There’s a horrid taste in my mouth - feeling sick.

I can hear my heart beating like a drum and decide - I need to see another side.

Very quickly I make the decision. I hear voices in my head - yes, this is the time.

Shaking, I walk out the door - smell the air, it smells so sweet. As I walk away the voices change and that sick feeling goes. I feel happy, starting to relax. I am looking forward, smelling the air, the flowers, everywhere seems beautiful. I am going to be a better, stronger person.

Today is the beginning of the rest of my life.

Jackie

Tuesday

Hecate The witch-goddess is a busy lady - the three-faced goddess of crossroads, journeys, decisions and probably of multi-tasking too. She is responsible for the afterworld, for blessings and curses.

We wrote first about the afterworld, creating our own personal heavens. Then we moved on to the cursing. We started gently, cursing the small irritants of life - call centre operators, traffic wardens - then moved on to the heavy stuff. We spend our lives trying to be reasonable, so it was surprisingly addictive to let rip with some really wicked, unpleasant curses. Someone came into the room a couple of hours later and said, ‘Blimey, it’s hot in here!’ Hecate would be proud.

The Way to Go I want to climb a mountain with a free heart To climb up above with a knowing fresh start To breathe in the air and know it’s for me Not have to share it, and know I am free.

I will climb that mountain, I’m on my way Tackle each minute and live day by day It’s a long journey and I know I will tire I become more determined as I get higher.

At the top of the mountain you will see the light Those long-term goals are not out of sight Take a step at a time and you will see The path you’ve chosen will set you free.

Jayne

A Curse May your tongue dissolve bit by bit As you drink your alcohol So you cannot tell any more lies.

Anne

You obviously never had feelings because if you did, as deep as mine, you’d have felt tears filling hundreds of tissues which caused splitting headaches - like something is inside there trying to push its way out which leads to depression, and that causes tiredness and loss of appetite, so you would have to lie sleeping most of the day and only eat enough to feed a budgie. You’ve never felt guilty for anything you’ve done wrong, ‘cause you had such a way with words that everything was my wrong doing.

Julie

A Curse on BT Telecom People May your ears swell up so you can’t hear what people are saying and be doomed to listen to Greensleeves forever.

May your fingers turn to jelly every time you reach for the keyboard.

And finally, let your bottom stick to your swivel chair so you can’t walk for ever more, and your bottom get so fat that it explodes.

Anne

The Road Not Taken Did I take the wrong road when I went back to a violent boyfriend after hearing he’d been in hospital for a brain operation?… I thought that the surgeon had removed the violent parts in his brain but they must have grown back now.

Julie

Why? Why Why Why Why

do you take when I’ve nothing to give? make me feel I don’t want to live? say you love me when you know you don’t? promise to care when you know you won’t?

Why Why Why Why

make me cry and feel utter despair? do you look at me like I’m not there? shut me out and make me feel cold? is it not me you want to hold?

I am worth loving, that you can’t see.

You are the person that I don’t want to be.

You will be unhappy for the rest of your life AND I WILL MAKE SOMEONE A BLOODY GOOD WIFE! Jayne

A Curse I hope you will fall totally and fully in love with someone who never utters a word of truth; who makes you feel as though you are unworthy, but you can’t stop loving her.

She will make you feel as though no-one else matters, and you can’t live without her.

She will build you up so that you feel on top of the world with love, so that you think no-one else will come close.

Then, when you’re on cloud nine she will tell you you are too fat, and you don’t dress well, and in fact you are not worthy of her, and your heart breaks.

Anne

Abusive Relationship Reversal May you: Feel pain like a screwdriver Piercing your fragile heart: Hallucinate yourself to sleep, Daggers at your throat, Cement mixer churning in your stomach: Lose yourself in a cloud Of toxic dust, struggling to breathe, Unable to resurface: Cry and sweat so much That Severn Trent requires an Emergency water pump: See constant darkness, Suffocating you like an overstuffed Duck feather pillow.

Tuesday

Hestia Hestia, goddess of all things domestic and homely, got us writing about our own homes and where we come from. One prompt was Louise MacNeice’s poem House on a Cliff which lists things that are happening indoors and outdoors. Home also means the people you love, the comfort foods you ate as a child, and the place where you find your own identity.

Anne’s House Indoors, the yelp of a boy fighting with his brother. Outdoors the bang of a shed door.

Indoors all lights blazing. Outdoors darkness.

Indoors a boy rolling on the floor.

Outdoors a cat walks by. Indoors A boy sent to bed. Outdoors bats fly and screech around someone’s head.

Indoors, peaceful now. Outdoors, a dog barks and wakes a child. Indoors a worried woman cries. Outdoors a fox in from the wild.

Anne

Her Indoors Indoors the warmth of a coal fire. Outdoors Kids playing in the street.

Indoors the sound of music.

Outdoors the sound of little feet.

Outdoors the smell of coal fires in the air.

Indoors the horrible man who is hard to please.

Outdoors he races off to the pub in the car.

Indoors dreading the return, the sound of his keys.

Indoors sitting cursing, hating him.

Outdoors, praying one day he would leave.

Indoors, kids sleeping quietly in bed.

I praying for some reprieve.

T

Inside Home, Inside Me Indoors a broken hearted woman sits; outdoors A street lamp offers eternal light.

Indoors a lone glass of wine stands. Outdoors Rain pours, mirroring the woman’s tears at night.

Indoors, two small boys call out for mummy; outdoors In the garden a football longs for a father’s kick.

Indoors the woman tries hard to compensate. Outdoors Untended flowers reflect the wounds that need a lick.

Indoors, lavender candles cuddle the poignant air; outdoors Life goes on, time goes by.

Indoors a family of three unites. Outdoors Angels watch over them, protecting in the midnight sky.

Tuesday

Roast dinner Roasted chicken brown and golden, crispy skin sizzling in the big roasting pan.

To keep it company, roast potatoes, parsnips smell the aroma wafting about through the house.

Sage and onion stuffing adds the crowning glory: herbs, strong and aromatic smells, makes your taste buds hungry.

Sprouts so green and firm, baby carrots too.

This all looks colourful, and very tasty too.

Saucepans simmering, the sound of the lids chattering.

We all wait in anticipation.

The dinner was lovely but oh, how I hated that children’s home.

A Femme Fatale

Sensitive Little Things When I was a child I was a sensitive little thing: never had much love, often abused.

Poor mum tried her best, but couldn’t cope.

Sherry helped ease the pain, an alcoholic she became.

I often despaired - it was all so tragic grown-ups shouting, fighting at every whim.

Police often called, but I was hidden; very frightening for a sensitive little thing.

Cuts, bruises and stitches my poor mum had: oh, she always looked so sad.

No-one should suffer like this.

Mum would drink to escape the horrors men are vile, she hollered I wished I was dead, no suffering then.

When I went into care I would daydream all the while.

A cottage in the country with two horses I could ride, two ducks swimming on a little pond would be nice.

A kind loving husband I would have, children I could love, and forget all the bad.

When I grew up perhaps….

Now I’m an adult. Three children I had, I’m afraid the husband turned out to be very bad.

More cuts and bruises came my way.

My three children, sensitive little things; no-one should suffer these horrible things.

My children are grown, have lives of their own.

The bad man’s gone, and I hope he lives alone.

Me? I’m fine, now I’m older, wiser, all the bad’s gone.

It still comes to haunt me now and again but my life’s okay - for a sensitive little thing.

A Femme Fatale

Aphrodite Not surprisingly, the goddess of love was hard for some women to identify with.

Some feel that they have never experienced it, while others have survived the bad and re-discovered love with a new partner. We approached Aphrodite through famous relationships - Romeo and Juliet, Beauty and the Beast, Tom and Jerry! We took love in its widest sense, using Anna Akhmatova’s He Loved Three Things to get us writing about the people who have meant most to us.

My Dad He loved Rising Damp, also Italian food also Italian football.

He hated noisy kids also shopping trips also bills.

I was his daughter.

T

He loved three things He loved three things: His cognac His TV And his cigarettes.

He hated Children Pubs And women.

And I was his wife.

Anne

Athena Athena is the feisty goddess in charge of learning and fighting. Our writers had no difficulty in putting these two together. We started with photographs of people learning new skills. There were little girls learning to roller-skate, elderly men learning to rock climb, a trainee chef… Some pieces came from these; others from Jenny Joseph’s When I am Old which shows a woman growing old disgracefully. An exercise inspired by Kate Bingham’s Things I Learned at University asked what we had learned ourselves.

Learning to Knit in a Scottish classroom Sally and Jane are knitting.

Very good they are too; a tea cosy for mum is the end product.

When we get home from school a cup of tea we have, nice and warm in our tums and a warm scone with lots of jam and cream, yum yum.

Mum’s poking the fire as it crackles away, fire glowing, It’s such chilly days.

There’s no place like home. Slippers comfy, nice to wear. Jim-jams great, let’s watch telly.

School’s okay, playing with my friends.

Sally makes me laugh, gets me into trouble.

The teachers say I’m a giggler and I must behave.

Sally and Jane walk to school.

No bus for them.

Mum says exercise is good for you, As long as the weather’s okay.

Mr Porter is our teacher.

God, he’s such a grouse, if he smiled I’m sure he’d crack his wrinkly brow.

He’s as old as the hills, poor thing.

Probably saw dinosaurs when he was a kid, I bet that was frightening.

I love my mum, she’s so kind and homely.

She says Mr Porter is unhappy. Why? Why? A Femme Fatale

Heaven on earth They said that Stafford had a place.

I said I didn’t care where it was as long as it was safe.

We walked in and no questions were asked.

Didn’t they want proof of anything of the past?

It seemed like all the staff, women and children knew what we’d been through, and we had spent years surrounded by people who didn’t have a clue.

I felt like kissing the floor of our room, I knew so much would be okay very, very soon.

The relief of knowing he didn’t know where we had gone, we could do so much, even have a bit of fun.

Living with so many others was not easy at times, but so much better than what we had left behind.

We now have a beautiful home where we can relax, have peace and be ourselves.

The floors are covered in soft carpets, not eggshells.

My children and I will always be indebted to the staff (who will disagree).

God bless you all for helping set us free.

We have not enough words to tell you how much you turned our lives around.

You expect nothing in return but we want you to know we will never let you down.

My children think so much of you all.

Thanks to you, they laugh and walk tall.

Gillian

Moving On The security of a relationship Seemed to be good.

Routine and order Amidst motherhood.

The washing and ironing Piled up to the sky, Then playtime over the fields Teaching my sons to kick high.

It was all well and good But I had to live with their dad!

Monstrous sort of man Who liked to be bad!

I wanted peace Because the children were easy.

Could be a single mum, But would he ever let me walk freely?

The bad times worsened But leaving had to be done, Being free of that man Ain’t gonna be any fun.

Push came to shove, That bad rubbish begone!

I’m adapting my life now And my freedom I’ve won.

T

We Continually Learn After years of abuse and watching my back I’ve started Thai boxing and have learned to fight back.

No more scaredness if a man crosses my path.

Stand up, don’t be submissive give that man some back!

I train hard, work hard like never before 3 times a week I attend a gym.

Put my fighting gloves on, I sweat for hours; why should I let a man ever win?

I’ve learned confidence, and never been so fit and I’m sharp - gone before a punch hits me.

Steamy sweat, hot sort of grappling might be torture, but I have peace within me.

Jo H

Bruised I sit where I always sit, or does it just seem that I sit where I always sit?

Thinking of yesterday’s conversations; all the tears. For continuity and comfort, I sit where I always sit.

Tomorrow will be easier. Or harder.

Just now, just today I sit where I always sit.

Tomorrow I stand up.

Jo B

Confessions I learned from an early age to make myself happy, it’s my way of coping with unhappiness.

As a child I would spend my pocket money at the joke shop.

I would buy itching powder to put into my mum’s boyfriends’ trousers, because I hated them.

I would have a good giggle as they would scratch away, and seeing the puzzled look on their faces.

I would buy plastic poo and eggs, stink bombs that stunk of rotten eggs. I was a little madam, thinking about it all now.

I learned how to put my mum on a guilt trip because of the trauma she put me through.

I learned she would give me money from the boyfriends she had.

I learned how to manipulate her as if she didn’t have enough problems of her own.

I learned to smile when I was sad, I would try to make myself happy.

Imaginary friends I had loads, I was very popular.

But really I had none - I was ashamed of my mum.

A Femme Fatale

New Year It’s Christmas outside, but not in here No festivities or Christmas cheer.

The lights are out, the tree is bare I’m not worried, don’t really care.

I wish for the New Year with a fresh start With plenty of healing for my broken heart.

It’s been a long journey of sadness and pain, I just want to be free and happy again.

Jayne

CONCLUSION Thirty years ago, a group of women in Stafford were drawn together by a common belief that women and children in the town who were living with domestic violence had no safe place to go, and nobody to turn to. They knew that violence against women was wrong, even though in those years it was widely seen as a normal part of society. They approached the local council for a property which could be used as a refuge for such women and children. The council responded by saying there was no proof of any need for a refuge. But these strong-minded women were not put off. They went out and gathered evidence from GPs, health visitors, housing officers, social workers and the general public, and took it back to the council. The result, in 1976, was the first Staffordshire Women’s Aid refuge. It was a one bedroomed flat, fire damaged and on top of a butcher’s shop with a yard full of offal: but it was a start. Within a week, two women had moved in with their children. Staffordshire Women’s Aid began to be available 24 hours a day, 365 days a year through its helpline.

Thirty years on we have a much larger refuge, outreach and children’s services, centres in Stafford and Cannock, and the 24-hour helpline is still running. We have come a very long way, but we do not forget the battles fought in the early days by women who refused to give in, who stood up for the rights of women and children to live in their homes free from violence, and who I often think of as warriors.

In 2000, we adopted the image of the Greek goddess Artemis, herself a warrior who protected women and children against male violence. We felt that she represented Women’s Aid and its aim to protect and empower women and children, presenting to the world a symbol of female strength and courage. All the women who work for us (whether paid or voluntary) require continuous courage in the face of the abuse they are pledged to combat. But what keeps us going is the amazing courage we witness on a daily basis in the women and children we work with; in their capacity to survive and to grow.

Artemis is a myth; yet myths carry great meaning and represent some of our most deepseated dreams and fears. She symbolises the courage and dreams of all the women who have worked for Staffordshire Women’s Aid, and the many women and children who have used our services.

Goddesses has been a fabulous way of enabling women who have survived domestic violence to explore myth a little further, to dream a little more and to combat fear head-on through the wonderful, often healing process of creative writing. I would like to express gratitude to the National Lottery’s Awards for All for funding the project, to poet Jo Bell and designer Hannah Fox who provided creative inspiration, and mostly to all those women who have contributed.

They show humour, courage and compassion in their work, entering into the world of Artemis, her sisters and cousins. Thanks to all of them for creating this amazing book which, as part of our 30th birthday celebrations, is a true expression of the courage and growth our work is built upon.

Dickie Chester-James Chief Executive, Staffordshire Women’s Aid

Staffordshire Women’s Aid Helpline - 0870 2700 123 Women’s Aid National Helpline - 0808 2000 247 An Artemis Project supported by Awards For All First Edition - December 2006 Project Manager and Poet - Jo Bell www.bell-jar.co.uk Design & Production - FOX www.foxgraphicdesign.com

from Tuesday’s thanks Fun moments, At times poignant pain Bursting with emotion Us Stafford Goddesses Put poetry in motion.

Tuesday