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She's helping women see the light

The Reminder is making its archives back to 2003 available on our website. Please note that, due to technical limitations, archive articles are presented without the usual formatting.

The Reminder is making its archives back to 2003 available on our website. Please note that, due to technical limitations, archive articles are presented without the usual formatting.

Jonathon Naylor Editor Life has thrown a lot of anguish at Colleen Arnold. At 12, her parents went through a vicious divorce. At 14, she was sexually assaulted and quit school. In her mid-20s, she suffered physical abuse at the hands of a man she loved. Arnold has endured racism, sexism and death threats, but rather than destroying her, the slings and arrows have only made her stronger. Today, as executive director of the Women's Resource Centre, she stands as a powerful role model for women who are fighting back against adversity. 'I am hoping other women will see a light at the end of the tunnel,' she says, 'that they can overcome many things and live a happy and fulfilled life.' Arnold's own life, not always so happy and fulfilled, began in 1964. Born in Selkirk, just outside Winnipeg, she was raised in the then-young nickel-mining town of Thompson. One of nine children from a large aboriginal family, Arnold's early lessons about her culture were anything but positive. 'My mother had gone to residential school, so she was taught to be ashamed of being aboriginal,' she says. 'So we were taught to be ashamed of it in a certain way as well.' But Arnold, who unlike her siblings would never be mistaken for white, decided she would take pride in her heritage. She also took pride in her family, which made it all the more painful when her parents went through their ugly divorce when she was 12. It had been an abusive marriage for her mother, as Arnold came to realize. She promised herself that if a man ever hit her, she would flee the relationship immediately. Despite the wounds from her parents' breakup, Arnold continued to thrive in school. She racked up straight A's en route to what seemed like a bright future. Then came another traumatic blow. When she was just 14, Arnold was sexually assaulted. She felt so alone, so sure she was to blame, that she waited some two years before telling her mom. 'I was very messed up,' she acknowledges. Skipping school Arnold, whose work ethic had never been in question, began skipping school. She managed to keep her grades up by getting homework from friends and just going to class for tests, but then attendance became mandatory. At 17, with only a Grade 8 education, Arnold began moving back and forth to B.C. It took a few years before she finally settled in Vancouver, finding work as a food and beverage server. The racism she had encountered as a First Nations person in northern Manitoba followed her to the city. Despite her inner strength, the sense that she was not always society's equal was difficult to accept. But life's troubles fade into the background when love enters the picture. Such was the case for Arnold when, in her mid-20s, she began dating a remarkable man. 'When I first met him he was the greatest guy that I ever met,' she recalls. Arnold was so head over heels that she was blind to what her friends saw in her new boyfriend _ a lust for control. Sure he wanted her all to himself, she reasoned, but that was only because he craved her company. When Arnold became pregnant, unexpectedly and fairly early into the relationship, new aspects of the man she loved began to emerge. See 'During..'on pg. 9 Continued from pg. 6 He would call her 'fat,' 'useless' and 'ugly.' Five months into the pregnancy, he stepped up his abuse into the physical realm. But just as he attempted to justify a cracked rib here or a bleeding nose there, Arnold always found reasons to stay with him. It couldn't really be him, she thought. It was the drugs, the heroin he shot up and the cocaine he snorted. He would get clean and everything would be okay. Besides, as he himself would point out, it's not as though Arnold had been put in the hospital. Truly abused women end up in the ER, or worse, don't they? As she downplayed the verbal and physical violence, Arnold was determined to avoid another family split. Her child would not go through what she did. Unfortunately, Arnold's yearning for family unity became another weapon in her tormentor's arsenal. 'He was very manipulative,' she recalls. 'He knew how much I wanted to keep the family together, so he would use that (to his advantage): 'We owe it to her to try one more time,' things like that.' The arrival of baby Ashley in 1990 did nothing to curb the abuse. In fact, things escalated. At a staff party, after Arnold had been talking to a coworker too long for her boyfriend's liking, he approached her. What looked to everyone else like a hug accompanied by an affectionate whisper was actually a warning: 'When we get home, I'm going to kill you.' Death threats were now a reality of Arnold's life. At one point he told her that murder is easy to get away with _ all he would have to do is hack up her body and dispose of the parts in garbage bags across Vancouver. Accustomed, if not numb, to her partner, Arnold shrugged off such grotesque terrorization. 'To me it just became almost like he was playing this game,' she says. 'I didn't think he would be capable of doing that. I thought he was just saying it to scare me.' The couple's troubled on-and-off relationship would last two years until she met another man, Terry Arnold. He showed Colleen that respect and compassion, not punches and put-downs, form the basis of a genuine relationship. 'When I met Terry it helped me to realize that this is how (it should be), not only for myself but also for my daughter, to be treated that way,' Colleen says. The couple, along with young Ashley, moved to Yellowknife, where they started fresh. Terry worked supplying equipment to mines. Colleen managed a restaurant and lounge before becoming an accountant's assistant and, from there, a legal secretary. Resolve turmoil More importantly, Colleen began much-needed counselling to resolve her private turmoil. Finally, her life seemed on track. And things were about to get better. Whereas most transplants to Flin Flon move north, Colleen and Terry, now married, came south to the community when Terry was transferred in 1999. Colleen continued to work different jobs. She was a part-time correctional officer, commuting to The Pas, and a parent coordinator with the Aboriginal Head Start pre-kindergarten program. She later worked as a liaison officer at the Flin Flon Friendship Centre. Having already gone back to school to earn her high school equivalency, she now completed her applied counselling certification. As a strong advocate for aboriginal people, Colleen relished helping them succeed. But when the top position came open at the Women's Resource Centre, which provides counselling and emergency shelter to victims of domestic abuse, she saw an even better fit for herself. 'I thought I could relate a lot to the women because I have been through it, but I have healed, too,' she says. In 2002, having applied for the job of executive director for the second time, Colleen was hired by the centre's board of directors. See 'Plague...'on pg. 20 Continued from pg. 9 Under her directorship, the centre has expanded its services to include a larger, dedicated shelter, broader awareness initiatives and a lunch program for needy families. Colleen has brought the often-hidden plague of domestic violence to the forefront with events such as Walk A Mile In Her Shoes, in which men stride down Main Street in oversized high heels. She also began organizing Take Back the Night, a more sombre march in which participants chant passionately and brandish photos of murder victims. Needed support While her job does not involve one-on-one counselling with women, Colleen ensures all of the centre's clients receive the support they need in an appropriate environment. 'The biggest thing is being non-judgmental and giving them all the information and letting them know that they have options,' she says. Now 48 and still happily married to Terry, Colleen says it is impossible to ignore the progress society has made in eliminating gender and racial discrimination. Still, she knows there is work to do. Lots of work. But after all Colleen Arnold has overcome in her life, she realizes that nothing is impossible.

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