A Shelter From Fists And Rage

by Jeff Holubitsky

The steady stream of women who turn up at the Lurana Shelter come with bruises, black eyes, and

shattered self-confidence. Regular emotional and physical beatings — including strangulation — at the hands of their partners will do that to a woman, whether she’s a doctor, lawyer, teacher, police officer, teenager, senior citizen, social worker, karate expert, or a stay-at-home mother. Sister Lucinda, the shelter’s compassionate but realistic director, says what’s worse is they also often come with children who have learned from dad that it’s okay to teach mom a lesson with their fists, feet, and teeth.

“But it is totally reversible,” she says. “Violence is learned behaviour and what gives me hope is that it can be unlearned.”

In the past year, a total of more than 670 moms and their children have hidden at the 32-bed shelter where their safety is secured with bulletproof windows, video surveillance, and alarm system and panic buttons.

“It’s a tough ministry, but I love it,” Sister Lucinda says. “If their partner gets help, things can change. So if a woman wants to reconcile, we will work with them to understand their boundaries and to have a strong safety plan so that if things don’t work out, she won’t stay long enough to get hurt.”

Before the shelter’s staff of 35 can help abused women rebuild their lives, they must first ensure their safety.

Sister Lucinda is blunt when she describes the reason its location is kept secret. Some abusers have gone so far as to hire detectives to pose as doctors to find their spouses and children. Others have sent people posing as social workers.

“There could be death threats and we are extremely cautious about who comes to the shelter,” Lucinda says.

New arrivals, who contact Lurana through a crisis line listed in the front pages of the phone book, can only come by a cab sent by the shelter.

“If a friend insists on driving them,” Lucinda says, “we’ll have them dropped off at a mall where a cab will meet them.”

Friends, family members, and the media are all strictly prohibited for visiting the nondescipt apartment block. Cellphone use is discouraged as well, because of the potential for tracing the source of the call with GPS technology.

Sister Lucinda, dressed in a plain brown long-sleeved dress that serves as her habit, conducts interviews at the order’s convent south of 118 Avenue on 110 Street. The Roman Catholic nun joined the Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement about 16 years ago, after an earlier career as a teacher. “One thing I learned early on is that women are really at a higher risk when they leave than if they stay,” she says. “When a person realizes their wife or partner is not coming back, a lot of individuals who are not stalkers become stalkers.”

Women and their children are typically allowed to stay 26 days, although some stay longer if no other accommodation is readily available. Through hours of group and personal counselling, they are taught to realize domestic violence can’t be blamed on the victim.

“We want the mom to learn she is not at fault,” Lucinda says. “For children, they also have to learn it is not their fault and the second thing they have to learn is the abuse has to stop, because most kids do, regretfully, blame their mom.”

The children, who are as old as 17, are usually encouraged to continue at their own schools — though if that proves impossible, they can attend class in schools near the shelter. Lucinda dreams of someday offering special classes for them at the convent.

Funding to cover the shelter’s $1.5 million annual budget comes from the province and through donations.

Many churches and schools raise money or collect new clothing and household items to help the women, who often flee their homes with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Money for the shelter will also be raised through a silent auction at the Mom, Pop and Tots Fair, which runs from Apr. 3-4 at Northlands Agricom.

Sadly, some women have returned to Lurana four or five times before things change for the better.

“When I look at violence in homes, it has to be men and women working together to stop it,” Lucinda says. “Most women do try to reconcile, because they fell in love with that person and unless there has been something so severe, she doesn’t stop loving.”