This commentary is by Brett Ann Stanciu, who lives in Hardwick with her two daughters. Steerforth Press recently published her book “Unstitched: My Journey to Understand Opioid Addiction and How People and Communities Can Heal.” Her novel “Hidden View” was published in 2015.
Five years ago, I considered domestic violence other people’s problem. I understood very little about the terrible and sometimes fatal web that surrounds women who experience domestic abuse in Vermont.
Then, shortly after I divorced, my ex-husband threatened me, repeatedly broke into my house, stole from me, climbed trees outside the house where I lived with our two daughters, and terrorized myself and my children.
After multiple visits from the state police and two failed attempts to obtain a restraining order, the director of AWARE arranged for an attorney to accompany me to court and plead my case. By this time, my situation had escalated to the place where my former husband had been arrested.
I was fortunate in multiple ways. I am well-educated and employed. I own a home. I have a brother who temporarily stayed with me and my daughters. But there were numerous factors that worked against my attempts to put my life and my underage daughters’ lives on a safe and even footing.
In the aftermath of the heartbreaking homicide in Elmore, I’d like to share some of the challenges I encountered.
First, I was shocked at how difficult it was to obtain a relief-from-abuse order so that I could live and work freely. At that time, I lived in a predominantly rural town that relied on the short-staffed state police for law enforcement. While I made numerous calls to the state police — who were always professional — the response time for a 911 call can be significant.
To obtain that relief-from-abuse order, I had to wait for my ex-husband’s actions to spiral out of control. After a series of state police visits, he was arrested at my house in a scene involving the use of a police dog when my daughters were present. Even after I obtained a restraining order, I was unable to have the court enforce that order, as I couldn’t get a summons served. Eventually, I saw no other reasonable option but to sell that house and move into a village. I now live within a minute’s drive of the local police station.
Second, like many other Vermonters, I discovered the state has scant resources for families seeking mental health assistance.
Third, economics matter. By and large, women earn consistently less than their male counterparts in Vermont. As a single mother with a grade school daughter, I worked two part-time jobs to parent and work. Neither of these jobs provided any benefits.
One of these positions was for a large, locally owned company that could have provided at least a few hours of paid time when I desperately needed those hours to attend to my family in the time-consuming process of securing a safe living situation.
Fourth — and perhaps the most pernicious — was the stigma I encountered as a woman in a domestic situation that escalated violently out of control. Very quickly, I learned that a woman in an abusive domestic situation is often viewed as a damaged person, as though she herself is responsible for that fracas and not the perpetrator.
At that time, I revealed my circumstances to almost no one. I was particularly keen to keep this secret in my workplace. I feared — rightly or wrongly — that to speak openly would compromise my position and my paycheck I desperately needed.
I’ll say now what I wish I had said to those around me at that time: This is wrong. Fear does not make me the perpetrator. True compassion means offering succor even when we do not understand another.
I’m grateful in innumerable ways to live in Vermont, but our state’s safety net is rife with holes that can and do become horrific abysses. Collectively and individually, we should begin to mend these broken places. Violence done cannot be undone.
