Women's Refuge: The workers on the front line as violence spiked in lockdown

Tuesday, 7 July 2020

Victim Specialist Halie Steiner talks about the issues with domestic violence.

Huddling under a carport to shelter from the rain, refuge workers Lottie Siaosi and Vanessa Edwards sit and listen to the woman with a bruised, swollen, face.

She looks to be in her late 50s and she speaks in hushed tones.

The woman doesn't want to capture the attention of her partner as he wipes her blood from the front door frame, and sweeps broken glass from the step.

'It wasn't him that hit me, he is good to me, it was his mate that did it,' she tells the two women.

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'The mate doesn't have anywhere else to go, you know. He's usually not like this … he scares me and I just stay in my room.

'It's the alcohol that does it.'

During crisis callouts, Siaosi and Edwards take turns at encouraging her to speak, but there's no pressure and no blame.

Vanessa Edwards said abused women need to be met with kindness and understanding, not judgement.

It's a gentle approach, and the conversational tact works well to get her to talk about what happened.

They sort a plan before they've reversed out of the driveway.

Several times a day, the pair visit the homes of women who have been abused.

They're referred to the women by other agencies, such as police, or by self-referrals.

Heading into lockdown, refuges across the country saw a 35 per cent increase in the number of women calling, texting, and emailing for help because of violence.

New Zealand has one of the highest reported rates of domestic violence in the developed world.

Police statistics showed a 21 per cent spike in 'family harm' cases on the first Sunday after the lockdown started, compared with the Sunday three weeks prior.

And two thirds of Women's refuges also reported seeing an increase in demand since the start of lockdown.

'There was a huge concern that women weren't able to reach out to us, that there were women in lockdown with an abuser and no safe way of contacting us,' Women's Refuge spokeswoman Susan Barker said.

The workers take notes and write down plans after every woman they visit.

'One tactic abusers use is they monitor and check your whereabouts.

'If you're stuck there, the opportunity to reach out is hard or even dangerous.'

Barker said advocates, safe houses, counselling, and social workers are a huge part of their organisation's essential services.

Staff members who were able to go and visit families during lockdown were doing that in full protective gear.

And as well as the usual services they provide, they saw an increase in the need for urgent accommodation and food over that period.

Siaosi and Edwards work for Waikato Women's Refuge.

They were two of 21 frontline workers, part of the essential workforce Barker mentioned, in the Waikato during Covid-19, working both from the office and from home.

The refuge's six safe houses were all in lockdown so they could not take in any new women or children.

Siaosi, who is from south Auckland, said she can empathise with women she works with because she was the victim of abuse when she was younger.

'My life was hell,' she said.

'I see little children who have that fear of being beaten.

'I see it in women, in the way she hides behind her hair, the way she holds her head down – because that's what I did.'

Refuge worker Eric Edmonds said men want to connect with someone who knows how to overcome abuse.

'I was a very angry person, I wanted to hurt people. I used to go to school and I would pick out the bully and I would pin him. I didn't care if they were 10 feet tall.

'When I was drinking there were men that used to look at me so I'd go across to the other side and punch them.

'I had a hatred for men because of what they did to me.'

Siaosi found solace in drugs and alcohol, and then, through a local church.

She started working for the refuge in 2005 but was reluctant at first because 'I didn't like people'.

'But I could relate, and I could help them get through that head space and make sense of it.'

Like Siaosi, abuse was part of everyday life for Eric Edmond – only he was the perpetrator.

'I was a violent man, I was into drugs and alcohol. I ruined my marriage and nearly lost my wife, and my children were afraid of me.

'When I accepted that help, I was able to drop the pride because I was at a place where I didn't have the answers.

Edmonds is one of only a handful of male refuge workers across the country. He works alongside his son Kodi Edmonds.

'A lot of our men don't even know that there are men to open up to,' he said.

'Our men want to connect with someone who knows what they're talking about and overcome it.

'They even let you down but you have to keep trying. I tripped and stuffed up so many times, but there was always someone there to help.'