Link to the DAWES Project on Radio 4 Woman's Hour

In July 2009, a woman supported by the DAWES Project spoke to Radio 4's Woman's Hour about her experiences. The programme also includes an interview with Allison Foreman of DAWES and Jo Barclay from major employer the Co-Operative Group. Click link below to listen.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/womanshour/02/2009_29_fri.shtml

 

Poetry by Jean Caldwell

 Jean has kindly allowed the DAWES Project to use her poetry as she feels strongly about women losing work due domestic abuse, this issue has touched her family and cause considerable pain.

 

Anger is just a sentence away

 

Anger is just a sentence away,

A word in the wrong place,

A drink to many, a phone call from home,

Is enough for a smack in the face.

 

Walking into cupboards,

Tripping over the phone,

I’m glad when I have a job,

‘Cos there I’m not accident prone.

 

I can smile, even laugh,

There’s nothing wrong with me,

I can forget the shackles and much more,

Like knowing freedom and liberty.

 

I’m not a slave at work,

I’m a person just like you,

I can pretend, just for a while,

Forget the bruises, black and blue.

 

Friends are a luxury,

I only need him, he says,

And even my mum is banned,

In control games that he plays.

 

Love is an emotion,

Within this world of hate,

Another luxury item,

Tossed aside by fate.

 

Workplace, then, a haven,

Somewhere there is no pain,

Until he thinks I enjoy it,

Then he ruins it yet again.

 

The broken arm, the damaged knee,

And my heart sinks once more,

For I know that I am trapped,

Behind a shameful door.

 

He may swear at the boss,

When she enquires what made me lame,

And once that has happened,

Nothing is ever the same.

 

No-one can ever rescue me,

There’s nothing more to do,

Than to put on my happy head,

So doctors never get a clue.

 

Reality is distant,

It’s split beyond repair,

And work, my escape,

Is out of reach, somewhere over there.

 

I may get another job,

But the pattern repeats, insane,

At work I bathe in sunshine,

At home, there’s thunderstorms and rain.

 

I survive by being his puppet,

Strings control me, dancing, or very still,

While my work, untethered,

Becomes my only healing pill.

 

By Jean Caldwell, August 2010

 

 

The double life of a nursery nurse

 

A is for A grades, you worked so hard for,

B is for Beatings and Black eyes by the score,

C is for Children, the lights of your life,

D is for Doggerel that cuts like a knife,

E is for Endings, another job on the line,

F is for Flitting, and everything’s Fine,

G is for Games, with babies you play,

H is for Home sweet Home, so idiots say,

I is for Infants placed in your care,

J is for Jealousy, unjust and unfair,

K is for Kiddies, who run for a kiss,

L is for Lies, and Loved ones you miss,

M is for Managers, who give you a hard time,

N is for ‘Nowts’ wrong, but no ladders to climb,

O is for openness, outgoing, with style,

P is for Poverty, and Pills, putrid and vile,

Q is for Quiet times, as your charges sleep,

R is for Risks, and Rages so deep,

S is for Smiles and nursery Songs,

T is for Trouble and lashings by Tongue,

U is for Uniform, so clean and smart,

V is for Vexed, he thinks you dress like a tart,

W is for Workplace, where you’re safe and warm,

X is for Xmas, when most come to harm,

Y is for Young heart, once innocent and alive,

Z is for Zombie, what you become to survive.

 

There we have it, the alphabet’s through,

And grieving, we weep for the real you.

 

 

By Jean Caldwell, August 2010

 

The Tennis Game

 

WORK

Respite care?

Given by her colleagues there.

HOME

Loving care?

To argue with that

she wouldn’t dare.

Professional ethics?

Smiles abound,

Those are not allowed,

When he’s around.

Blackened eyes?

Walked into garage door!

The stupid, silly bitch,

Tripped ont’ ruddy floor!

Broken bones?

Off work because of fall.

Isolation, what he wants,

No-one allowed to call.

 

 

Backwards and forwards, so she goes

Like a human tennis ball

But there are no umpires shouting fault,

So the bat-her-er takes it all,

Her body, her spirit, her mind,

Hang like trophies in his hall.

 

 

By Jean Caldwell, August 2010