The War Zone
Imagine that you are in a war zone, trapped behind enemy lines. You are hungry, tired and overwhelmed by the fear that the next time you engage the enemy he will kill you. Your life is reduced to the bare necessities: You eat when you can, sleep only when you must, and compromise things you never dreamed you would--just to stay alive.
You have learned never to let your guard down, even when the enemy isn't in sight: You must be ready to do battle at any time. The war consumes you. You imagine all the ways the enemy could hurt you and think up strategies to protect yourself.
You dream about escaping, about crossing the border into safe territory, but you aren't sure which path will get you out. You have no compass, few resources, and little strength left. The war has cut you off from anyone who, at one time, may have been able to rescue you.
You envy the people who live outside the war zone, but when you make it to the border they won't stop to help you. You try to signal them, to send a message quietly so the enemy won't find you. But no one will look at you.
Then, imagine that your children are with you.
And the border is your front door.
This is how victims of domestic violence live.
On the surface, they may look like you or me; you might see them at the park, lifting their toddler into a swing, or in a darkened movie theatre eating buttered popcorn. They may be your grandmother, your sister, or your cousin. They may be a co-worker or a friend, but chances are someone you care about has lived like this.
The National Institute of Justice estimates that more than one in five American women has been physically abused by their intimate partner. Even more are psychologically abused. How many women do you know? How many do you love? How many of them are living in a war zone?
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