Ruidoso News (NM) – Monday, September 12, 2011
Author/Byline: Dianne Stallings dstallings@ruidosonews.com
Section: News
Debbie Haines-Nix never realized the malevolent ripple effect of domestic violence until she learned that 73 percent of young male offenders at the former Camp Sierra Blanca rehabilitation center near Fort Stanton were exposed to domestic violence in their pasts.
“We had angry broken-hearted boys,” she said during a recent afternoon at her retreat-meeting-event center Sanctuary on the River in Ruidoso. The seed was planted after her experience with the camp and Haines-Nix knew she would become involved in trying to break the cycle of domestic violence , at least in Lincoln County.
Today, Haines-Nix is past president and one of the founders of Help End Abuse for Life and the organization’s shelter, the Nest in Ruidoso Downs. The shelter is headed by executive director Coleen Widell. As National Domestic Violence Awareness Month begins in October, the two women sat down to talk about the accomplishments of the last seven years.
Domestic Violence Awareness Month evolved from the “Day of Unity” in October 1981, conceived by the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence . The intent was to connect advocates across the nation who were working to end violence against women and their children. The Day of Unity soon became an entire week devoted to a range of activities conducted at the local, state, and national levels. The activities were as varied and diverse as the program sponsors, but had common themes: mourning those who have died because of domestic violence , celebrating those who have survived and connecting those who work to end violence.
In October 1987, the first Domestic Violence Awareness Month was observed. That same year marked the initiation of the first national domestic violence toll-free hotline. In 1989, the U.S. Congress passed Public Law 101-112 designating October of that year as National Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
The awakening
Haines-Nix’s path crystallized in 2004, after she attended a Rotary Club meeting where two representatives from the Center of Protective Environment in Otero County spoke about domestic violence in Lincoln County. At that time, local statistics ranked Lincoln County as having the highest rate of domestic violence in the state of New Mexico.
“None of us had realized what a problem it was,” she said. A group came together to form committees at Cree Meadows First Baptist Church and Haines-Nix, who at the time worked for Zia Natural Gas, found her home on the building committee.
“Fortunately, (Zia Natural Gas President) Dave Hamilton is all about healthy community issues and he freed up enough of my time for me to lobby for money,” she said.
Former Ruidoso School Superintendent Chuck Harrison was part of the core group and Steve Duffy came up with the HEAL acronym, suggested by a friend from the East Coast. Laura Reynolds of Print Write Now in Ruidoso designed the logo. HEAL was formed in June, incorporated in July and was issued a 501 (c) 3 status by the IRS in August 2005.
This core group of community stakeholders conducted a survey to determine whether or not a Lincoln County agency should be formed to manage the shelter. The survey results overwhelmingly indicated the community’s interest in the formation of a Lincoln County agency dedicated to addressing the needs of victims of domestic violence . Participation in the 2005 legislative session resulted in a $425,000 appropriation from the state of New Mexico’s Capital Outlay Program, earmarked for the purchase of a building that would become the Lincoln County shelter, the Nest. Previously, Lincoln County never had a local shelter or comprehensive services for survivors of domestic violence .
“Everybody knows somebody affected by domestic violence ,” Widell said. “Of our employees, 75 percent are survivors or the children of a family with domestic violence .”
“It’s not just the usual volunteer program,” Haines-Nix said.
“It can be depressing,” Widell agreed. “The field picks you. That’s my excuse for 25 years.”
Widell joins
Widell was working in Havasu City, Ariz., as a consultant on a national program dealing with workplace violence, when she decided to respond to a request for proposals for an executive director for the shelter. By that time, Cynthia Culbertson from Carrizozo and attorney Angie Schneider-Cook were on the HEAL board.
“Before Coleen was on board, we were like a herd of cats with a passion,” Haines-Nix said. “She whipped us into shape to understand the importance of the work and to do it the right way.”
Dealing with the government wasn’t always easy.
The former secretary of the New Mexico Department of Children, Youth and Families, Mary-Dale Bolson, who helped dismantle a successful program at Camp Sierra Blanca and with whom Haines-Nix bumped heads, turned out to be a good friend of HEAL. She helped secure the first legislative allocation for the group. However, when the allocation was worded, someone left out the word “purchase” in the capital outlay final paperwork. The money was appropriated, but HEAL officials couldn’t touch it. They knew they would have to resubmit for the next round.
“We were going to lose the building,” Nix said, and then Johnny Gray of Pitch Energy of Artesia came along and loaned the group money at no interest for one year. He later even more graciously forgave that debt.
Renovations took about 16 months to complete in the building selected, which by coincidence had housed a store named Scarlett’s Nest and seemed to be destined to become the shelter. Last-minute items like shaving off a few inches of a handrail and hooking up to a sewer line that wasn’t on the shelter’s side of U.S. 70, caused some delays. For a short time, those staying at the shelter had to shower at Gateway Church of Christ’s shelter for displaced persons.
Supporters rally
Former first lady of New Mexico, Barbara Richardson, also grew into a strong ally along with her husband Gov. Bill Richardson. She met some of the members of the shelter group at a Leadership Lincoln session and things clicked from there. Another champion of the project was State Sen. Rod Adair (R-Roswell), who sponsored the capital outlay request. Other alliances were built through HEAL’s active participation in the New Mexico Coalition Against Domestic Violence . Widell served as president of its board of directors for two years.
Widell said the Ruidoso community thinks of the Nest as “its shelter” and that’s not usual, as she knows from her experience with two previous shelters.
“We have an open-model shelter,” which she said is a rare approach. “We’re prepared for high-risk clients.”
Working with a domestic violence network and “Angel Flight,” in severe cases including one where the abuser was a law enforcement officer, the shelter has facilitated a change of identity and flown a survivor to a new location.
“The Hubbard Foundation paid for our entire security system,” Haines-Nix said with the help of Village Councilor Jim Stoddard, former foundation executive director. Twenty-five cameras are connected to First Alarm and Security. There are panic buttons and staff wear emergency pendants and there are three levels of security to pass through before accessing the area inhabited by residents. Razor wire was installed at the top of a fence enclosing the open play/patio area.
Haines-Nix said she initially was worried about the image of razor wire, but she discovered that the women liked it and felt safe. “The children play and don’t even notice,” she said.
The Nest
The 6,500-square-foot shelter can accommodate 42 people in 14 bedrooms, two wheelchair accessible, with 28 beds and six bathrooms.
“What I love most is the relationships and layering,” Haines-Nix said. When a survivor arrives, she receives a welcome bag put together by seven area churches. The children are directed to a closet filled with quilts made by The Stash Sisters, a local quilting group that also creates quilts to be sold at raffle to raise money for the shelter, one of many fund-raising efforts.
“The kids race to closet and toss out one after another until they find the right one. We want to be able to send the women and children to their new home with some things just for them,” she said. “They shop after hours at the Sweet Charity Boutique (the thrift shop that helps support the program).”
Widell said the biggest influx usually occurs right before school begins. Women show up with their children in tow and the Nest is filled with their noise.
“It wasn’t safe to live at home. Some may have been camping in the forest or living in their cars, and they realize that they can’t get the kids to school from there,” she said. “They can live outside in the summer. We’ve had babies born in the shelter. Several doctors have called us in other cases and said the abuser is in the waiting room and the baby was born. We pick them up and remove them from the situation and take them to the shelter.”
Haines-Nix said she thought she would see depressed people at the shelter, but she was wrong.
“There’s lots of energy,” Widell said. “They cook and eat together. It’s a family of sorts there. We have an educational program, basic arts and crafts and recreation. That’s foreign to a lot of them. They haven’t had that. When I feel sorry for myself, I go there.”
Haines-Nix agreed, recalling an evening when as HEAL president, she called Widell to whine about her heavy workload. Widell simply replied, “And thank goodness you aren’t the one hiding in the closet with your babies.”
She hasn’t complained since, Haines-Nix said.
The shelter’s also has a children’s program that focuses on healing and breaking the cycle.
“They are fractured children and the most innocent of all the victims, but I have never seen such resiliency and how they encourage their mothers,” Haines-Nix said.
Widell said clients are limited to a 90-day stay at the shelter (driven by the state Children, Youth and Families Department), although, when a situation warrants and safety is an issue, that can be extended. Once a survivor has settled in, staff works with a woman on an empowerment plan, but the plan is client driven.
“She’s the expert on her own safety and staying alive,” Widell said. “As advocates, we will help develop the plan looking at her strengths, challenges and obstacles. We will teach how to access resources, not do it for them. Many of the women are isolated by their abusers. We help identify things in the community to help, including financial, to get into an apartment, or finish high school or college. We had one women who finished her master’s degree in the shelter.”
No boundaries
Domestic violence doesn’t recognize social class, the two women said. Victims have included women from upscale marriages, but with a husband who wouldn’t allow them to own anything or put their names on house or car titles.
“Some don’t even know how to open a checking account,” Haines-Nix said. “They don’t know the questions to ask.”
“We help her identify the most important things in the empowerment plan and move on to next leg of the journey,” Widell said.
Privacy and access are tightly guarded at the shelter and that extends to law enforcement and the courts, she said. Before the shelter opened, an in-service training was conducted with local law enforcement agencies on how to handle interactions respectfully.
“We told them we support you, but we can’t confirm or deny that a person is in the shelter,” Widell said.
Haines-Nix explained that privacy even extends to Children, Youth and Families. “We can’t hand over files to verify expenses.”
After two-year of wrangling, representatives came up with a process of verification without accessing files, she said. The process became a model for other programs in the state.
“CYF told us our program is one of the top two in the state after only four years of operation,” Widell said. “They especially were pleased to see a good showing of men sitting on our board. We have more male members than women and they bring a different perspective.”
Lessons
The last board president was Joe Gomez and Jamie Estes serves as the current president of the HEAL board of directors.
Haines-Nix said one of the most valuable lessons she learned, and learned very quickly from Widell, was that, “We can’t re-victimize the victim. Once they are in the system, our thought was to be their saviors. But it’s about them building a toolbox. They come here with an empty box and we help them get the right tools. It may take them several times, but each time they are stronger.”
“We can’t save them,” Widell added. “We can empower them, even if I don’t always agree with their choices.”
courtesy of Ruidoso News