In 1980 my former husband and I found ourselves homeless with a one-year-old son and another on his way. We had lived with my mother and then his parents when we were first married. After having moved back and forth several times the constant discord in the marriage caused our parents to refuse us a place to stay. We never had a place of our own. The reason we were homeless was because of domestic violence. I remember being hit in the side of my head because a former male class mate spoke to me in the store, when I got back to the car my husband hit me. I continued to endure physical abuse, verbal abuse and mistrust from my husband. My situation deteriorated even further during the pregnancy when my life and the life of my baby were in danger because of the physical abuse I was subjected to. Like many women in my condition, my self image began to be affected and I began blaming myself for what was happening. I saw no way out and attempted suicide as a means to escape.

Being out on the street meant finding shelter of some kind and we found a stairwell of a church to stay in. One night while we were in the stairwell someone from the church found us and invited us in for the evening’s service. They asked us what we were doing there and we told them. The church put us in a hotel for a few days and made sure we had food. One of the church members, Ms. Pearl, took us into her home to live with her. She was sweet and kind and it seemed like things were looking up for our family. However, it wasn’t long before the abuse started again and Ms. Pearl had to ask us to leave her home. I was close to giving birth to our second child and after much pleading my husband was able to get his parents to let us stay in their home until the baby was born.

The addition of another baby boy was not enough to bring a change in the marriage. This life was increasing difficult for me from the stand point of freedom as well. I had always been used to having a car, spending money and a home. But the situation got so bad that I was not able to work or even go outside the house. I remember there was never any money because he would drink and gamble it away then come back and pick a fight with me and beat me. It was a few months after the baby was born that I just could not take the beatings any longer so I left him one day while he was gone and moved in with my mother.

Even after filing for divorce and in the process of putting my life back together he continued to stalk and harass me. This continued until one day, after an especially vicious attack, I was taken to the hospital unconscious. My former husband was arrested and made to pay restitution for his actions but it was not until he was incarcerated for a lengthy period of time on another charge that the abuse finally ended.

It was out of these experiences that I began to get a vision for helping other women who are in abusive situations and have no where to turn. For over ten years I developed this dream and finally in August of 2001 The House of Refuge was founded.

It is my sincere hope that my experiences and The House of Refuge can make a difference in the lives of women and children who need a helping hand and a word of hope in the midst of their personal crisis.

Ieta Kimbrough