What is Domestic Violence?

Teen Dating Violence

Melissa’s Story – A true story of teen dating violence

“And if he likes me, what does it matter if he strikes me.
I’ll fetch his paper with my arm in a sling, just for the privilege of wearing his ring.”

The above lyrics from the 1959 Pulitzer Prize winning musical “Fiorello” illustrate the intense pressure of the time to be “coupled.” Forty-three years later, teens are still facing similar pressures, thus contributing to an ideal climate for teen dating violence. Teen dating violence is defined as a pattern of coercive behavior that one partner exerts over the other for the purpose of establishing and maintaining power and control. This behavior may take various forms: emotional abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, limiting independence, isolation, threats and intimidation, harassment and minimizing, denying and blaming.

You may be thinking, “This wouldn’t happen to my teen. They know better.” Consider the following:

• In a survey of over four thousand 9th through 12th graders, approximately 1 in 5 female students reported being physically and/or sexually abused by a dating partner.
• 45% of teenage females and 43% of teenage males reported that they had received some form of physical aggression from dating partners at least once; girls reported that their boyfriends initiated the violence 70% of the time while boys reported that their girlfriends were the initiators only 27% of the time.
• Females between the ages of 16 and 24 experience the highest per capita rates of domestic violence.
• 30% of all teenage girls who are killed are killed by a boyfriend or former boyfriend.
• While the statistics give us a sense of the scope of the problem, they don’t speak as loudly as a survivor. The following is an excerpt of Melissa’s story.

"Each day I wake up and I don’t know exactly how I am going to feel. My emotions are constantly at battle and I am uncertain about what the outcome will be. I go from feeling very angry, to guilty, to weak, frustrated and powerless. I know I will make it through the day and wake in the morning to face it all again. It is a part of me and it is who I am. I ask myself why sometimes. Why me, why anyone? I know without a doubt, when I fall asleep at night, that I cannot keep this quiet. If I do, it makes it seem that this is okay to hide, that we shouldn’t talk about it. That it is not our problem. I need to say it out loud. I am a survivor. It is easier to say that, but in order to become a survivor; I first had to be a victim. What happened, although not fair, happened to me. It is happening to teens everywhere. It is real and it is a crime.

I first met my abuser when I was sixteen and I was attracted to him because he was older and no one knew him. He was mysterious and exciting to me. At first he began innocently asking where I was going. That soon changed to him becoming controlling and jealous, demanding to know where I was and whom I was with. My parents and friends were more annoyed than I was. They saw it as a warning sign; I saw it as someone who cared about me. As his behavior began to get worse I knew that it was not appropriate, but I did not see it has harmful. The minor arguments did not last long. He didn’t belittle me. I still felt completely in control.

The next stage was worse, not only for me but for those who loved me and cared about me. They were losing me. My abuser had started to build a fence around me. He would embarrass me in front of my family and friends and foolishly I would defend him. I would argue with them and he would point out that no one was on my side. He would instigate arguments with my family and intimidate my friends.

He began to ruin my special occasions. He did not want to go to my prom and he didn’t want me to go. I decided to go anyway and about five minutes before I was supposed to leave he started saying “how can you go, you know I don’t want you to go.” I went anyway and tried to have a good time. Then he showed up at the door, threatened my date and I left the prom with my abuser. My high school graduation was one of the worst days of my life. I spent the night before graduation at a party with friends. When I got home I had a good discussion with my parents. The next morning I was feeling great as I began to get ready for my special day. Then he called me; he was screaming so loud my mother could hear his voice through the phone. “Where did you go last night? I never told you that you could go out. I hate you, you’re a liar…I’m not coming.” I was crying. I was embarrassed. My parents and I fought. How could he ruin another day for me?

His controlling behavior progressed throughout the summer of 1999. By the end of the summer the relationship with my parents was ruined and I almost never saw my friends. He had convinced me that everyone was against us. He convinced me that no one was on our side. From that time on it was about us. To be honest it made me feel pretty good that I was a part of something as I had lost everything I had with others. I didn’t have anyone to turn to……my abuser had successfully isolated me.

I turned seventeen and started college in the fall. Three days after school began I moved out of my house and in to an apartment with him. My parents were disappointed and my friends thought I was absolutely crazy. Within three weeks of moving in together, he successfully kept me from being able to attend school. He would take the car when I needed to go class. I would set the alarm for my morning classes and he would turn the alarm off. When he picked me up at school, he would create a scene in the parking lot. It was not worth the effort to continue going to class.

I cannot remember the first time I was physically assaulted. I know there were previous incidents of abuse, but October of 1999 is the first time I remember him hitting me. We had enjoyed a great day together and he suggested we stop by a party that my friends were having. Once at the party I was thrilled to be with my friends again and started talking with them and paying less attention to my abuser. At one point I went over to a male friend of mine and nudged him with my elbow. My abuser went crazy. He grabbed my arm and started yelling at me in front of everyone. He called me a whore and slapped my face. Before I could feel the pain or the embarrassment, I experienced shock. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat on the couch and stared. He did not want to go home yet and continued on as if nothing had happened. Later in the evening I heard some people laugh about the

incident. I wanted to die.

The arguments and the physical abuse escalated. I was working as a waitress and the regular customers knew that I couldn’t cook. One evening a male customer who frequented the restaurant brought me a copy of the book Cookbook for Dummies. In the car on the way home my abuser went ballistic because he felt that a man shouldn’t be bringing me a book. He was speeding and driving erratically and I was scared for myself and the others on the road. Once home he took me in the back alley and screamed and emotionally tore me to shreds. He brought me in the house, kept me up all night and beat me. That was the day I knew I had no control. That was the first day I feared for my life.

Holidays were awful. While I was remembering the wonderful gatherings with my family had over the years, my abuser continued to batter me. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas I tried to leave him for the first time. I called my Uncle to come and get me, but when he arrived my abuser cried and told me he loved me and that he felt bad. He said I was good for him. I was sad, and feeling like there was no place for me to go anyway, so I stayed.

Christmas Eve, after a gathering at my grandparents, I went back to the apartment and he kept me up all night beating and belittling me. He could not stand me being around other people. I do remember sitting on the couch thinking of what I would be doing if I were home right now with my family. We had so many wonderful traditions….I felt so alone.

A few months later, after continued abuse, I found out that I was pregnant. I was horrified. How could I bring up a baby living like this? He had stopped working months ago and I was the one supporting us. He took my paycheck and spent it on anything he pleased. I had no financial independence. Still, I stayed.

I felt like my abuser owned my soul. My mother picked me up to visit my Uncle who had been hospitalized. We had a civil lunch together. She dropped me off and I said good-bye. He was waiting for me; he started to hit me, spit on me and began pushing me up the stairs. My neighbor threatened to call the police. My abuser stopped in fear for himself, but not for our unborn baby or me.

Shortly after we moved into his mother’s house. I was confused by this move because he had always expressed hatred for her. Still I found some sense of relief, I thought I would be safe. The intensity and frequency of the violence increased at a much quicker rate that it ever had before. I was uncertain of my fate and became very fearful. I did anything he said because I did not want him to hurt our baby. He constantly accused me of preposterous things. He harassed me at work. When I was home, I barely left the bedroom. No matter where I was or what I did, I was unsafe. During the nonviolent moments I would talk about the baby. The more I talked about the baby, the angrier he got. I think part of my mindset during my pregnancy was that he couldn’t feel this baby like I could. I hoped that once she was born, he would love her like I did. I thought his violence would stop.

I turned 18 and three weeks later my daughter was born. Peace lasted only a week. He was jealous of the time I spent with her. He wasn’t interested in spending time with her. He would take off for the day and come back and cause trouble at night. One night, when my daughter was one month old, he hit me while she was in my arms. During prior months I had not even tried to reason with him, but this time I was outraged. I was crying and screaming, “don’t you ever hit me when I have her or I will leave.” When the argument was over I was so upset. I could not even see myself as enough of a person to say, “don’t hit me or I’m leaving.”

It happened again. He smashed his head against mine while I was holding her. His mother was right in the other room. She had listened to months of verbal and physical abuse and did nothing to stop it. I didn’t know how much more I could take. A few weeks later my father offered to take the baby overnight to give me a break. I came home from work and my abuser kept me up all night accusing me of outrageous things and making the worst threats I had ever heard. When it was all done, and it was almost morning, he forced me to have sex with him. I felt so disgusting. I couldn’t take one more night of this. It had happened so often it was becoming “normal” to have a night like that. As soon as my father came to bring my daughter back to me I said what I had needed to say for so long, “I want to come home.”

It’s not easy to cut ties with someone, especially someone who controls and intimidates you, but it can be done. In order to keep my daughter and I safe, I have an order of protection against him. He has violated the order, but it is important for him to see that his actions are no longer being tolerated. I still carry some type of fear with me and I always will, but I am free. I have safety. It is something that I may have taken for granted before all this happened. Even as I look in the mirror today, I still find it hard to see myself as a battered woman. Before I met my abuser, I would never have thought that a young woman, from an upper-middle class family, could find herself in such a situation. I did not see myself as a potential victim of domestic violence. Anyone can become a victim, including teenagers. It is imperative that we recognize the need to openly discuss the seriousness of this crime.”

Melissa was the 2002 recipient of the Governor’s Courage Award to End Domestic Violence.

This is Melissa’s story, as told to Joan Faxon, Program Administrator, NYS Office for the Prevention of Domestic Violence.