#NowNovember: Kia Richardson

Emotional Trigger Note:

This post is long, but it is important. Teen Dating Violence is effecting many youth in our community and they are often silent victims. This Guest Blogger is telling her story of being a survivor of teen dating violence and it has some details that can cause strong emotions for readers who may have experienced similar situations.  #NowNovember let's be free to bring healing and shine light. Read with an open mind:

#NowNovember I am able to inform and educate you on the dangers of teen dating violence. Let's think about the many teens who never get the chance to be free. The babies need a voice and advocates who are willing to get dirty with them. NOW is the time. NOW is the season to be free and shine light on issues kept in the dark. NOW is the time for me educate those who think all teens are safe in relationships.

At the tender age of 16, I entered what would be my first abusive relationship. I didn't love myself and I thought the blows were expression of his love. He would say. "If I can't have you no one can." The age is not a typo. My abuser was also my peer. I was scared to talk to my mother and cousins, I had no resources about teen violence so I endured the torture. At the time I was mothering an infant child. We did not have cellphones, social media or  the internet. My abuser had to call the house phone to make plans to see me. My abuser had an identity and a name my mother could call him; he had to face my mother if she opened the door. His vehicle could be identified if anyone needed to call the police. 

NOW the prey is more vulnerable than before, with cell phones and social media we do not have any idea how or where the perpetrator meets the prey. NOW there are inbox messages blowing up, secret text apps with messages and voice mails some parents have no access to if the victim does not want them to know. Predators have a nickname and no face. Victims will probably meet them at an unknown place. NOW predators are one name on social media with a face that may or may not be his/hers. NOW the predator is hidden to torment and torture the prey with little evidence. NOW the predator is not showing up at doors, meeting the family and able to be identified. This brings great danger to the prey.

One day I thought I was safe with him, but I quickly learned the truth. We were at his house watching TV and his mother was in the other room. He dozed off so I grabbed the remote to change the channel. He woke up and noticed something different on TV. He walked over to me and smacked me in the face. It was loud enough for his mother to ask what happened. His reply was simple, "I smacked Kia." In anger she said, "Don't you ever put your hands on her again."

NOW there is a generation of parents working two jobs. Who is at the house to protect the prey? NOW with so many teens dating older men what outlet to do they have to entice young girls? Usually grown ups believe "it's none of my business" and they don't always step in to help the victim if they see red flags.

It did not get better for me after that smack, I soon discovered that I was pregnant with his child. I was terrified to tell him; in the past he had said, "I don't want any kids, if you keep the baby both of you will end up in a pine box."  We were sitting on my porch and when I gave him the news. The sun disappeared and the clouds turned dark grey almost black. The air was filled with gloom and sadness. NOW I was 17. "My mother will take you to the clinic. Use my sister's school ID and the baby will be gone. 

I tried to sway him, "I am scared and nervous."

All he had to say was, "Remember the pine box?" One week later I was at the abortion clinic.Yes, his mother picked me up and I used his sister's school id. I laid across the cold metal table to have baby #2 taken from me. I never planned to tell my mother but my sister, in an attempt to get back at me blurted the news in front of my mother during one of our arguments. I was shocked that the person who sponsored part of the abortion had told my sister. I was crushed as she yelled the words and casually walked up the stairs. I barely remember talking to my mother about the abortion, I only remember going to my room thinking about the signs the protesters carried when I walked into the clinic.  

NOW with abortion being a hot topic, how, where and when are abortions happening? Will we go back to the days before they were legal, performing basement and alley side abortion services? NOW how does the prey speak up to tell someone what's going on? Is the prey now laying in a pine box with a fetus inside of her? NOW men are so quick to pull the trigger or take a knife to the prey like a piece of meat.

NOW with social media people use freedom of speech to disrespect and degrade those they don't agree with -  its a cold world. NOW suicide rates on the rise as a result of the cold world.

When I turned 18 in January of 1999, my mother told me, "You need to go find your own place." She was not being mean, I had been disrespectful to her by breaking her rules. She didn't know the fear I felt from him, even though she told me he could not stay over, I let him. I never told him what my mother said. We would also stay at his mother's house, she too was tired of us laying in his bed under her roof. I had been working since I was 15.
I endured all that came with shacking up because I was afraid to tell anyone that it was the wrong thing to do, moving in with him. Things became more intense after he lost his job, he was stressed about money and how we would make it. His recreational weed smoking quickly became a habit along with Crown Royal and pills. He also started to sell drugs. We had guns in the house which took the threats to a new level.  

When things would get bad I would walk to the pay phone and call my friend Teresa. She was my safe haven. I spent the night with her to hide from him but I always went back. When I called Teresa one of two things would happen: 
1. She would answer the phone and I would stay at her house. 
2. I would leave her a detailed message on her answering machine telling her if anything happened he did it. 

At the tender age of 19 we had our last argument. He picked me up from the hair dresser, and on the way home we started to argue. This would happen often when he wanted a reason to leave the house. It started with him having to pick up his aunt, then he had to make all these other runs as he list grew. We were yelling at the top of our lungs, "Let me and my daughter out the car." We got out at Prescott Ave, started walking about two blocks home. We got to the driveway and he was standing there with his "backpack" which held his gun.

He was yelling constantly, "Do you want me to kill your as-?" He grabbed the gun. I was feeling like my daughter was about to see me shot up and I would be in a puddle of blood. I grabbed her hand and we ran as I yelled "Help!" I heard shots being fired behind me, I didn't feel anything and my daughter didn't have any blood so I keep running.  Two men across the street offered to help but I declined because I didn't want them to get hurt. 

My abuser got in his grey Cadillac and sped down the street slamming on his brakes when he got to us. He got out the car with the gun pointed at me, "Do you want me to spray your as-?" I said nothing. The two men across the street called 911.  My abuser got back in his car and sped off.  The police showed up, I was scared, they asked a lot of questions but I had little answers. A lady cop patted me down looking for weapons and secures us in the back seat of the cruiser. They asked where he went, I kept repeating, "I have no idea." The best I had was his mother lived around the corner. He wasn't there. We circled the neighborhood looking for him, and he was looking for me and my daughter. I told the police, "He's dangerous. He said he's not going back to jail."

Shortly after I see his car, I hit the floor of the cruiser. They let us out at what used to be a post office on Prescott Ave. God had an angel sitting in a red cutlass, the lady saw us getting out of the cruiser and asked if we needed a ride. I asked her to take us to my cousin's house. The fifteen minute ride felt like fifteen hours. My heart was racing. NOW I gotta tell what has been going on behind closed doors. 

I got to my cousin's house and tried to give the lady gas money but she would not take it. Watching my back I ran into my cousin's house and straight up to her room. Before I could get anything out my mother was calling the house. I told my cousin to tell my mother I was not there. My cousin turned on the television and I saw the breaking news that my abuser had shot the lady cop. My cousin told my mother I was standing right there. My mother instructed her to bring me to her so that when the police came to get me I would leave from her house. Thirty minutes later the police come to pick me up for questioning.

The story didn't have a good end for the cop or my abuser. Officer Mary was shot in the neck and paralyzed, she died two years later from bed injuries. My abuser R.T.was shot eight times. He survived for a short while but died after serving ten years of his eighty-six year sentence. I thank God for his grace and protection over my life and the life of my daughter.

Kia A. Richardson is the founder of No More Blows, a non profit organization that raises awareness about teen dating violence. She uses her experience to create awareness about teen dating violence. She uses February, Teen Violence Awareness Month as a time to host "Hands Off" a Dating forum that speaks and informs teens about the dangers of unhealthy dating. Kia wants to know, "will you NOW make it your passion and be the hand, feet and voice of the teenagers who are prey?" She lives in Ohio with her two daughters. 






#NowNovember we are free to be Unpluckable,