PADV in the News Abuse outreach grows Gwinnett Daily Post By Josh Green LAWRENCEVILLE - Even pregnancy failed to harbor Astou Dieng from a nightmarish cycle of domestic abuse. Punched, beaten with a belt and verbally assaulted for infractions like leaving a light on, the mother of two fell on hard times in Atlanta after moving from Senegal with her husband a decade ago. Economic and emotional barriers trapped her. His apologies kept the police away. "I was alone, ashamed and so afraid," she said. Dieng and fellow battered women shared powerful survival stories during a Partnership Against Domestic Violence meeting Thursday, where leaders pledged to expand local housing services in the spirit of victims - male and female - killed at the hands of abusive spouses. The not-for-profit recently secured a $986,000 federal stimulus grant - a sum that nearly doubles private contributions last year. The money will provide 20 permanent housing units for domestic violence survivors who are disabled and homeless, said Susan Berryman-Rodriguez, the agency's spokeswoman. "This is an underserved population," she said. The agency's impact in Gwinnett is widespread. PADV fielded more than 12,000 calls to its crisis line in fiscal year 2008 and provided assistance to 619 women and children at its two shelters, one of which is in Gwinnett County, said Berryman-Rodriguez. Both shelter locations are confidential. Like other speakers, Dieng credited the agency with providing her strength in a world of fleeting hope. Police eventually stopped accepting her husband's excuses, arresting him in 2006, she said. Through that experience, she was introduced to PADV, which provided rent and child care money while she got her feet under her. Having taught herself English, Dieng owns a home, a car and has earned a nursing assistance certificate. "I can't believe how much I've grown," she said. "Each day is getting better." Another victim, Chyna McGarity, met her ex-husband in college, she an aspiring model and he finishing studies to become a police officer. In time, she witnessed "a 190-degree turn" in the man, who drank himself into violence, raping and sometimes biting her until she bled. "Verbally, I was called everything but my name," she said. "I was treated like a piece of meat." McGarity said she once put her batterer's service weapon to his head as he slept. In lieu of pulling the trigger, she called the PADV crisis line. "Learn to recognize the signs of domestic abuse," McGarity urged the crowd. "There is help and people who care." |