Turn to God in prayer to support a friend or family member trapped in an unhealthy lifestyle.
My brother is an alcoholic. For years, this reality has shattered my world. The brother who walked to school with me, played Battleship with me and pretended to be famous singers with me has become someone I often fear. Continue reading
I ducked as the amber medicine bottle whizzed past my head with such force the sound came after it had passed, like a jet fighter plane. I heard it find its unintended target as it shattered against the wall and vitamins scattered everywhere as if they were being shot out of the wall. OMG!! What if I didn’t duck!! He threw that right AT me! Wait….did that just happen? I stood numb….still…..dumb….in shock with a glimmer of hope that this was a bad dream that I would wake from. As I started thawing from the numbness, fear, shock and adrenaline all brewed together into a brew of deep dark anger….did that mutha just throw my prenatal vitamins at me? The question now becomes a bold declaration…I KNOW that mutha#$%&%^* didn’t just throw ANYTHING at me. One of us isn’t getting out of here Ta-DAY!
While working one evening at the Domestic Violence shelter, one of the team members came and got me because there was a pastors wife that they wanted me to talk to. As an organization with government funding, naturally they are not allowed to speak on faith and religion; however as a volunteer, I could.
I left the office and went into the living room where I met this beautiful woman who had the kindest face and very soft voice. We made small talk after the introductions and she began to share with me how she finally got the nerve to leave her abusive husband, a church pastor and police officer. While some would stop here and say ‘oh my 
goodness! but a PASTOR?’, know that abusers are from all walks of life, socioeconomic statuses and professions. This didn’t come as a surprise to me. Preciouslyfe Ministries (now My Tattered Brim) was created because there was little discussion (if any) in the church about domestic violence. There were few safe places for the church members and leaders to say ‘I’m being abused’ where they could get help and not ridicule. The more I trained in DV counseling, the more I could identify and recognize the signs of abuse and would see evidence of it all around me, even in the church. Continue reading
by Elahe Izadi
Melissa Dohme — a domestic violence survivor and advocate — stepped to the plate and prepared to throw out the first pitch at Monday night’s Tampa Bay Rays game. Her boyfriend, Cameron Hill, ran out on the field and handed her the ball. Scribbled on it were four words: “Will you marry me?”
A surprised Dohme kissed Hill, marveled at her ring and somehow still managed to throw the pitch.
She also said yes.
The pair first crossed paths on Jan. 24, 2012. Dohme had been stabbed 32 times by her ex-boyfriend. Hill, a firefighter-paramedic, found Dohme covered in blood and on the pavement outside of her house in Clearwater.
“It was so bad. You couldn’t tell she was blond,” Hill told the Tampa Bay Times in 2013. Hill loaded Dohme onto the helicopter. He later said “for some reason, I didn’t think it would be the last time I was going to see her.”
Dohme’s ex-boyfriend, Robert Lee Burton Jr., had stabbed her repeatedly in the face and neck. Two bystanders called 911 during the horrific attack that began when Burton came by Dohme’s house to give her a hug, according to prosecutors.
Burton pleaded guilty to attempted murder and was sentenced to life without parole.
[Nearly a third of U.S. women have experienced domestic violence]
“Both of their lives will never be the same,” the judge said during the sentencing hearing.
But, Dohme told WFLA in 2013: “By a miracle, I am still here.”
Melissa, then 20, spent three weeks in the hospital, flat-lining four times and suffering nerve damage that partly paralyzed one side of her face. To the surprise of her doctors, she left rehab walking on her own. She traveled to Europe. She went back to school, her drive to become a nurse even stronger.
In the fall of 2012, two of her first responders surprised her when she spoke at a church. Cameron was one. They hugged, and made plans to meet again.
“I had this feeling about him,” she said.
By December, the two were dating. Dohme said in 2013 that part of her doesn’t want to be upset anymore about what happened in 2012 “because I met Cameron out of it.”
Dohme went on to become an advocate for domestic violence survivors and repeatedly shared her story about tragedy and triumph. She threw the first pitch at Monday’s game as a representative of Hands Across the Bay, a nonprofit supporting Tampa Bay families.
“If you believe there’s good in the world then you’ll find it,” Dohme said in 2013. “I believe he’s the answer to my prayers that I’ve prayed all the time.”
Last night I had the pleasure of attending a film screening of #PIFVA (Philadelphia Independent Film & Video Association)members. The works presented were thought provoking, entertaining and challenged my conventional thinking on a subject I thought I knew so well. I am not a movie critic so I won’t blab on telling you about each one. Know that they were all awesome (especially the one with my talented cousin – ok, I’m biased!!) but I encourage you to check out PIFVA to see when the next one is or what they are about. 
Anywwwhoooo – there was one film that made me think about how society has a knee-jerk reaction of instant images of a battered woman when hearing the term domestic violence. Campaigns are headed up by major corporations, the marketing team coins a catchy slogan….but what about the children? What about the child cowering in the closet watching his/her mother being punched in the face by their father? The siblings that cling to one another in fear when awoken from their sleep by the screams of their mother? What are they learning about love, conflict, communication, boundaries, esteem and relationships? Domestic Violence is ugly. The ripple effects impact many and the scars are deep for the adults and for the children. I think to my own childhood and the horrific things that I witnessed and wish that there was someone speaking for me as I look at the world from Under my Tattered Brim!
There’s sad news out of Arizona, where WNBA players Brittney Griner and her fiancée, Glory Johnson, were arrested. Late Wednesday afternoon, law enforcement authorities were apparently called to a home in a Phoenix suburb. According
Brittney Griner (right) with her fiancée, Glory Johnson. (Photo: Brittney Griner/Instagram)
to the Arizona Republic Griner and Johnson, who both had physical injuries, were swiftly arrested and charged with suspicion of assault and disorderly conduct. Early the next morning, Johnson (who plays for the Tulsa Shock) was released from police custody and Griner (who plays for the Phoenix Mercury) was also released. Continue reading
Reposting from: http://atlantablackstar.com/2015/04/09/new-study-shows-pressure-strong-can-leave-black-women-denying-ignoring-struggles-depression/
Black women are far less likely to struggle with depression than their white counterparts.
That’s the inaccurate message several headlines implied when a new study found that Black women were less likely to report suffering from depression than white women.
Those headlines, however, can be extremely misleading by omitting one simple but extremely important word: Report.
The study, which was recently published in JAMA Psychiatry, utilized findings from a massive survey where women were asked to report whether or not they battled with depression at some point in their lives.
Researchers talked to more than 1,400 Black women and roughly 340 white women.
With such a significantly greater amount of Black participants, one might be quick to think that the Black women reporting struggles with depression would outnumber their white counterparts.
Even with more than 1,000 extra Black female participants, the national survey found that only 10 percent of Black women reported dealing with depression or any other mental health disorder at some point in their lives.
More than 20 percent of white women said they dealt with at least one mental health disorder.
When specifically focusing on depression, Black women still represented a miniscule part of the population that admitted to dealing with the disorder.
While nearly 10 percent of the white participants admitted to battling depression within the last year, 5.5 percent of Black women reported the same.
Another 22 percent of white women admitted to dealing with any kind of mood disorder at some point in their life. Only 14 percent of Black women reported so.
So does this mean Black women are happier, more carefree individuals? Is this an implication that these women are just as strong as society has always proclaimed them to be and that despite facing life changing obstacles and unique challenges, they are nearly invincible when it comes to emotional distress?
Not at all.
Black women are a population that has to fight battles against both sexism and racism, delivering a left hook and an uppercut to their fight for equality in a white, male-dominated world.
That type of stress makes it very easy to slip into the grips of depression, but the stigma about depression and other mental disorders in the Black community discourages many Black people from seeking help for such conditions or even realizing they have a problem.
The Black community boasts a lineage of incredibly strong and resilient ancestors.
It’s a history to be proud of but also a past that is used against Black people who are feeling suffocated by the modern day struggles of racism, discrimination and every day life.
Dr. Monica Coleman, a Black professor and author who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, once explained that just the idea of going to therapy is taboo in the Black community.
“Seeing a therapist is generally seen as a sign of weakness or a lack of faith,” Dr. Coleman explained during an interview on PBS. “There is still an active mythos of the ‘strong Black woman,’ who is supposed to be strong and present and capable for everyone in her family—and neglects her own needs.”
Dr. Coleman revealed that during one of her own depressive episodes, a friend told her that, “[Black people] are the descendants of those who survived the Middle Passage and slavery. Whatever you’re going through cannot be that bad.”
It’s a message that Dr. Coleman said upset her and angered her even more.
“No, depression isn’t human trafficking, genocide or slavery, but it is real death-threatening pain to me,” she added. “…That comment just made me feel small and selfish and far worse than before. It made me wish I had never said anything at all.”
That’s the unfortunate reality that many Black people, especially Black women, face.
It has become so normal for some Black women to subject themselves to limitless sacrifices, emotional stress and excessive burdens that they often don’t even realize when they have crossed the line into depression.
So whether it’s caused by undeserved shame or a lack of realization, Black women are indeed far less likely to report struggling with depression.
They are far less likely to deem what has been presented to them as the daily life and responsibilities of the “strong Black woman” as depression.
They will rarely open up to find comfort in others when they have been taught to always be the source of comfort themselves.
Black women may not report that they are depressed or even seek any help or advice.
This does not mean, however, that they are any less likely to be in the midst of a grueling battle with depression or any other disorder.
If it’s abuse…..why do they stay?? IF it is…..How many times have you heard this question?? I’ve heard people say, “that’s a shame….why do/did you stay in an abusive relationship?” or “Why doesn’t she just leave?” Sometimes the question is meant as an honest inquiry. However, often it is spoken with an undercurrent of hostility or disbelief that things must not be as bad as they seem. This attitude sends a message to anyone who stays in abusive relationships are somehow to blame for their abuse. Continue reading
I NEVER thought I would see the day when I was in a domestic violence situation. I am smarter than that. I know what
domestic violence is….I’ve seen it in my childhood and vowed it would never happen to me. No man will ever do to me, the things that I’ve seen my Mother endure. Never. Continue reading
A universal comment that I find when having an honest conversation with people about a relationship with God is that they consider church folk – phoney. The sad part is that in some cases they are right. Have we become so heavenly minded that we are of no earthly good? Did we forget that Christ met us at our needs no matter where it was – the crack house, whore house, another woman’s/man’s house, the Hungry-house, the Poor House ….you get the point. The challenge is even more strenuous if there is a title in front of your name. Does the Reverend, Minister, First Lady, Pastor….(whichever the title) wear a Halo or a Hoodie?
One of the most scariest times of my life was when I went into the prison. I know that I am to reach out to Domestic Abuse survivors no matter where they are so I went. Yup I said it, I was nervous, scared. Don’t judge me and toss scripture, I know God hasn’t given us a spirit of fear but hearing those doors slam shut sent a shiver up my human spine, so I prayed. As I went in with my Bible and my little handouts, I prayed that God would have His way even while walking through the glass doors that lead into the lobby. As I entered, my heals clacked and echoed off of the lockers and high ceiling filling the emptiness as I approached the round glass encased security-desk. The air even felt empty as if people walk through those doors and give up all hope, compassion, dreams, ideas….just empty acceptance of the fate behind those bars.
I present my ID, get my locker and go into the smaller waiting room where empty eyes of visiting relatives, friends and community programs glance over. I stop being so nervous as I look at how many broken families are represented in those 10-15 people sitting here. What are we doing for them? Praise dancing on Sunday and passing judgment on Monday? God are we so heavenly minded that we are really not doing any earthly good. Have we as salt, lost our savor?
The iron bars closing at the door where I just walked through, interrupt my thoughts and the sound made my heart race. HERE WE GO!! I watch waaaaaayyyy to much television and my imagination is very active (hey—don’t judge) because as that gate slammed shut sealing my ‘out’ and the other iron monster began to open up our access into the hallway of the prison, I started to see shanks, riots and SWAT all at once (in my head of course). I’m careful to walk down the hallway smack dab in the middle (even though I am the only one in it) so that the camera can see me….hmmmm what if they went to lunch and there is no one there. The bars behind me have closed and I’ve walked what felt like a football field down the hall to the next gate which opens as soon as I get there (whew…there IS someone watching on the camera).
The classroom door is open and I go in and shut it behind me and then I pray again. I feel guilty for being afraid and for having a stereotype of the sisters that are coming into the room. I ask God to give me the words to say and that His daughters are brought closer to HIM. I am so hyper alert at this point that when the 300 pound sister with the very short haircut grunted “I like your sweater” I almost threw it at her and ran out the door. (Ok, make that face as you read this if you want to, I told you I have a vivid imagination fueled by television). I didn’t even see faces, just heard voices and began to hyperventilate a little. I kept repeating prayer in my head and as the Spirit calmed me and my system started to come back to normal, I began to focused on the women that were coming in the door (asking God to forgive me for judging and making assumptions) I realized that I knew some of these women! We made small talk and I am super conscious and careful to just show love and compassion but being honest like…’you KNOW that you have better things to do other than being in here’. Now I am more at ease and we had an awesome time discussing God’s word.
The preconceived ideas of what ‘they’ would be like had me shook but God sent me there to see that these women were just like me…. daughters, sisters, mothers and most of all HIS. I didn’t see criminals, I saw women who were behind tons of steel but were more free and had more of a free praise and Love for God than the Halo wearing church folks on the outside.
Yes, we can say ‘whatsup?!’ when someone says ‘Hey gurl’ and know what is going on with music, language, artists…etc. and wear a hoodie without ‘losing our salvation’ or being ‘worldly’. In whatever we do, we can’t be one way on Sunday and another on 
Monday….don’t wear your Halo on Sunday and Hoodie on Monday making you so heavenly minded that you are no earthly good…or seen as phoney. Being consistent and comfortable in who we are allows for effective ministry that is not judgmental yet honest, meets people where they are (financially, educationally, mentally) and is most certainly to HIS glory. By the way…the woman who complimented my sweater (let’s call her Kate)….the one that made me nervous. Was the greatest joy to have met. As a group we shared in break-throughs, we wrestled with God’s Word together and we celebrated Kate’s release armed with a stronger relationship with God, the sword to guide her,and the decision that she would not return. It’s been about 7 years since my first prison experience and praise God….Kate has not returned and still praises God from under her hoodie.
Under Her Brim 
