Domestic Abuse Survivor's Bold Mission
By Zondra Hughes, Editor
HER WARRIOR SPIRIT
Myra’s Story
Myra Spearman’s abuser wasn’t a ‘thug’ with a criminal past. From the looks of things, he was quite a catch––and he came with a good recommendation.
“My cousin introduced us. He was just a breath of fresh air,” Myra recalls. “He was an established teacher; he was very articulate, and he was a history buff. I had not met anyone like him.”
Indeed.
The two dated in 1985. At the time, the Indiana resident was pursuing a bachelor’s degree in medical technology. By 1986, her boyfriend was offered a promotion in Salt Lake City, Utah, and Myra relocated to be with him.
That’s when the abuse started.
“We started arguing, and it became physical very quickly,” Myra says. “I was fighting him back and he knocked me to the floor, and he started choking me until I almost passed out. Then I heard a knock at the door.”
Concerned neighbors had called the police, and they were knocking. The police questioned Myra’s boyfriend and then they called her to the door.
“They wanted to see me and I wanted them to see me, so I went to the door. My eye was swollen; blood from my nose was all over my clothes. They asked me if I was OK and I said that I wasn’t ok and that I needed help. The police asked me if I had family in Salt Lake City—if I had somewhere I could go, and I didn’t. They told me that there was nothing that they could do. And they sent me back into the apartment with my abuser.”
Myra retreated from the door and headed to the bedroom. Myra’s boyfriend––now even more empowered––was quick on her heels.
“I remembered him walking behind me,” Myra says. “I didn’t even clean myself up. I just laid in the bed, and he said, ‘That’s where your dumb ass need to be.’”
The next morning, Myra’s boyfriend went to work and Myra called her dad in Indiana. Her dad wanted to talk to him, but Myra refused. She didn’t want the wrath that would follow.
When Myra’s boyfriend returned from work, “He apologized and he really made me feel that he was remorseful,” Myra admits, “and I forgave him.” Six months later, the couple married and relocated to California to live with his relative. Myra quickly got a job at a bank; her husband had not found a job.
“I was the first one to find a job, and I was going to work and coming home late and then one night, the relative called me anti-social and told us both to get out of his house.”
Securing a pay advance from her employer, the couple found an apartment, but the husband stayed in close communication with the relative, Myra says. “I asked him not to tell his relative our personal business, and then he jumped into a rage.”
Myra continues: “I was seven months pregnant. I remember sitting on the couch and in one quick motion, he snatched the cover off of me, threw it over my head, and he tried to suffocate me. I almost passed out.”
The next day Myra couldn’t go to work (her face was bruised and scratched from her efforts to remove the blanket, she says) and she told her boss the truth. “My boss told me to get out of there right away. That’s when I realized that he locked me inside the house. I didn’t have a key to the deadbolt, and I couldn’t fit through the window.”
Over the span of 14 years, Myra and her husband had three sons. Myra says she left her husband three times. The last time she left, she says, was because her sons (ages 9, 7 and a newborn, at the time) were in danger.
“We were living in Chicago. It was a Friday and my coworkers were laughing and looking forward to the weekend, but I was sitting at my desk, removing my earrings, my necklace—anything I didn’t want to get broken. I lived a block away, but it took me an hour to walk home. Once inside, I could hear him coming for me. I told him, ‘I just can’t do this anymore.’ And he said, ‘You can’t do what?’ I said, ‘If you are going to kill me, I’m ready to die. But I’m going to take you with me.’”
After this bold declaration, Myra recalls that her husband walked away, but this time, she followed him: “He walked into my (9-year-old) son’s room and punched him in the face so hard that I saw his head snap back. I had no idea he was abusing my kids. They were too frightened to tell me. And that was the last straw.”
Myra fled to her mother’s house with the newborn. She reported the abuse to the police; she went to court with two advocates from the domestic violence rescue program and secured an order of protection against her husband on behalf of her sons. Armed with the order of protection, Myra rescued her two sons from school. Myra’s getaway was clean, but her estranged husband tried to infiltrate her support system, she says, at one time even telling Myra’s own mother not to support her.
His scare tactics didn’t work. Myra won.
Myra’s Mission
Today, Myra is complete and her family is intact. The mother of four––Myra now has a busy 2-year-old daughter to add to her clan of sons, ages 19, 17, and 9––also has a new fiancé. “I am very happy,” she beams. “I am enjoying all of this. We all have such a strong bond.”
Myra’s journey to hell and back laid the foundation for The Weaker Vessel, a growing database of persons who have been convicted of domestic abuse. “This is a campaign to protect women and children,” Myra states. “We must protect the kids …” in an instant, Myra’s voice is overwhelmed with grief: “Julian didn’t have any say so about who mommy could bring home,” she says, referring to actress Jennifer Hudson’s murdered 7-year-old nephew, Julian King.
Then Myra’s grief-stricken voice is followed by a hardened resolve: “He (the alleged suspect) had a history of violence. He had a history of violence ...”
Such histories should be easily accessible for all women.
Myra says that is the mission of The Weaker Vessel—its named derived from The Holy Bible, (I Peter 3:7-9), where scripture explains how husbands and wives are to treat each other. And Myra wants women to log on (www.weakervessel.org) and check out their mates before dating them.
To bring her vision of a worldwide campaign to fruition, Myra says she needs resources, in the form of volunteers and funds. Currently, Myra is investing personal funds into The Weaker Vessel, and she is securing records and updating the database of domestic violence offenders from 3,000 counties on her own.
Yet Myra remains energized and offers words of advice for other women who are suffering abuse in silence: “Do not be embarrassed. Tell someone,” Myra advises. “Domestic violence is a crime of silence, and if you don’t say anything, you are going to continue to allow it to happen. Tell your friend or your employer … the more you talk about it, the more help you will get. Someone will help you.”
Editor’s note: This story is based on an interview with Myra Spearman, and all comments are her own. The identity of her former spouse has been withheld.
“My cousin introduced us. He was just a breath of fresh air,” Myra recalls. “He was an established teacher; he was very articulate, and he was a history buff. I had not met anyone like him.”
Indeed.
The two dated in 1985. At the time, the Indiana resident was pursuing a bachelor’s degree in medical technology. By 1986, her boyfriend was offered a promotion in Salt Lake City, Utah, and Myra relocated to be with him.
That’s when the abuse started.
“We started arguing, and it became physical very quickly,” Myra says. “I was fighting him back and he knocked me to the floor, and he started choking me until I almost passed out. Then I heard a knock at the door.”
Concerned neighbors had called the police, and they were knocking. The police questioned Myra’s boyfriend and then they called her to the door.
“They wanted to see me and I wanted them to see me, so I went to the door. My eye was swollen; blood from my nose was all over my clothes. They asked me if I was OK and I said that I wasn’t ok and that I needed help. The police asked me if I had family in Salt Lake City—if I had somewhere I could go, and I didn’t. They told me that there was nothing that they could do. And they sent me back into the apartment with my abuser.”
Myra retreated from the door and headed to the bedroom. Myra’s boyfriend––now even more empowered––was quick on her heels.
“I remembered him walking behind me,” Myra says. “I didn’t even clean myself up. I just laid in the bed, and he said, ‘That’s where your dumb ass need to be.’”
The next morning, Myra’s boyfriend went to work and Myra called her dad in Indiana. Her dad wanted to talk to him, but Myra refused. She didn’t want the wrath that would follow.
When Myra’s boyfriend returned from work, “He apologized and he really made me feel that he was remorseful,” Myra admits, “and I forgave him.” Six months later, the couple married and relocated to California to live with his relative. Myra quickly got a job at a bank; her husband had not found a job.
“I was the first one to find a job, and I was going to work and coming home late and then one night, the relative called me anti-social and told us both to get out of his house.”
Securing a pay advance from her employer, the couple found an apartment, but the husband stayed in close communication with the relative, Myra says. “I asked him not to tell his relative our personal business, and then he jumped into a rage.”
Myra continues: “I was seven months pregnant. I remember sitting on the couch and in one quick motion, he snatched the cover off of me, threw it over my head, and he tried to suffocate me. I almost passed out.”
The next day Myra couldn’t go to work (her face was bruised and scratched from her efforts to remove the blanket, she says) and she told her boss the truth. “My boss told me to get out of there right away. That’s when I realized that he locked me inside the house. I didn’t have a key to the deadbolt, and I couldn’t fit through the window.”
Over the span of 14 years, Myra and her husband had three sons. Myra says she left her husband three times. The last time she left, she says, was because her sons (ages 9, 7 and a newborn, at the time) were in danger.
“We were living in Chicago. It was a Friday and my coworkers were laughing and looking forward to the weekend, but I was sitting at my desk, removing my earrings, my necklace—anything I didn’t want to get broken. I lived a block away, but it took me an hour to walk home. Once inside, I could hear him coming for me. I told him, ‘I just can’t do this anymore.’ And he said, ‘You can’t do what?’ I said, ‘If you are going to kill me, I’m ready to die. But I’m going to take you with me.’”
After this bold declaration, Myra recalls that her husband walked away, but this time, she followed him: “He walked into my (9-year-old) son’s room and punched him in the face so hard that I saw his head snap back. I had no idea he was abusing my kids. They were too frightened to tell me. And that was the last straw.”
Myra fled to her mother’s house with the newborn. She reported the abuse to the police; she went to court with two advocates from the domestic violence rescue program and secured an order of protection against her husband on behalf of her sons. Armed with the order of protection, Myra rescued her two sons from school. Myra’s getaway was clean, but her estranged husband tried to infiltrate her support system, she says, at one time even telling Myra’s own mother not to support her.
His scare tactics didn’t work. Myra won.
Myra’s Mission
Today, Myra is complete and her family is intact. The mother of four––Myra now has a busy 2-year-old daughter to add to her clan of sons, ages 19, 17, and 9––also has a new fiancé. “I am very happy,” she beams. “I am enjoying all of this. We all have such a strong bond.”
Myra’s journey to hell and back laid the foundation for The Weaker Vessel, a growing database of persons who have been convicted of domestic abuse. “This is a campaign to protect women and children,” Myra states. “We must protect the kids …” in an instant, Myra’s voice is overwhelmed with grief: “Julian didn’t have any say so about who mommy could bring home,” she says, referring to actress Jennifer Hudson’s murdered 7-year-old nephew, Julian King.
Then Myra’s grief-stricken voice is followed by a hardened resolve: “He (the alleged suspect) had a history of violence. He had a history of violence ...”
Such histories should be easily accessible for all women.
Myra says that is the mission of The Weaker Vessel—its named derived from The Holy Bible, (I Peter 3:7-9), where scripture explains how husbands and wives are to treat each other. And Myra wants women to log on (www.weakervessel.org) and check out their mates before dating them.
To bring her vision of a worldwide campaign to fruition, Myra says she needs resources, in the form of volunteers and funds. Currently, Myra is investing personal funds into The Weaker Vessel, and she is securing records and updating the database of domestic violence offenders from 3,000 counties on her own.
Yet Myra remains energized and offers words of advice for other women who are suffering abuse in silence: “Do not be embarrassed. Tell someone,” Myra advises. “Domestic violence is a crime of silence, and if you don’t say anything, you are going to continue to allow it to happen. Tell your friend or your employer … the more you talk about it, the more help you will get. Someone will help you.”
Editor’s note: This story is based on an interview with Myra Spearman, and all comments are her own. The identity of her former spouse has been withheld.
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