Everybody has a story
nicole lee is a family violence survivor and advocate.
I was 24 when I met my ex-husband through disability sport. I was playing wheelchair tennis. He’s an amputee, and I’ve used a wheelchair for most of my life – I had an accident when I was very young. He was a really nice person, easy to talk to and we got along well. I invited him over to my place for dinner; within a couple of months I was pregnant and he’d moved in with me and my son from my first marriage.
It wasn’t until about six weeks after the birth of our son that things started to change, and the sexual assault began. I put a lot of blame on myself – I thought, “It’s been a while, maybe that’s why he did it,” instead of admitting I’d just been raped. The sexual abuse went on for the whole 10 years we were together, and progressed into physical, verbal and financial abuse, too. The day after, he’d be so sorry and say he wouldn’t do it again and would get help. But then things would change, and he’d say, “You did this,” or “You did that.” I’d be walking on eggshells, trying as hard as I could to keep the peace, but it was impossible. His name for me was “Stupid Woman” – it’s difficult to come back from something like that. Even now, I don’t feel I’m smart enough or strong enough or confident enough.
When I talk about ‘financial abuse’, he forced the sale of my house and bought another one. I was in hospital at the time – to cope with all the abuse, I chose not to eat, and suffered from anorexia really badly. I was on a feeding tube and he came in with a real estate agent and paperwork to sign to sell the house. The place I live in now is not where I would have chosen to live, and because he didn’t bargain on the price, he paid too much for it. It feels like a punishment: I’ve accumulated all his credit card debts, as well as having a mortgage I wouldn’t have otherwise.
In 2014, I attempted suicide. He’d left me on the floor and gone to bed, and said he wasn’t going to bother calling anyone while I had a heartbeat. My son, who was 16 at the time, found me and called the ambulance. It raised alarm bells with the emergency department that my husband had refused to get up – that’s when child protection and the police got involved. They came to our house and asked questions; he was very honest about what he’d been doing, and was removed from the house. I was so afraid I’d lose my children because of my disability; afraid there wouldn’t be enough services to help me and I wouldn’t be able to live in my home.
But it was only when my ex-husband was taken away that a whole world of support options opened up to me and I realised I didn’t have to live like that. I wasn’t as stuck as I’d thought. Now, thanks to the National Disability Insurance Scheme, support workers can come in and help me during the week with all sorts of things – house-cleaning, changing the sheets on the bed. Not having to rely on a friend or family member gives me so much physical and emotional freedom.
All the emotional abuse and brainwashing that happens in a violent relationship is so toxic, especially when it comes to women with disabilities. Australian-based research needs to be done in the area so we can understand the extent of it, then hopefully things will start to change. As we grow up, many of us are not allowed to
make decisions for ourselves about our medical care and all sorts of other things – some women with disabilities have never been encouraged or shown how to speak up for themselves. Then people wonder why I hadn’t left the marriage – I’d never been given agency. I wish, though, I’d understood the complexity of the situation for my children and the effect it was having on them. I think I would have left sooner to protect them. My ex-husband was eventually charged and remanded into custody on, of all dates, our wedding anniversary, and was in jail for two-and-a-half years.
Talking about what’s happened and having other people acknowledge my pain is a huge part of recovery. All this happened behind closed doors for such a long time, so it’s really profound to be able to say, “This is my story, this is what happened to me.” I gave evidence in 2015 at the Victorian Royal Commission into Family Violence, and was invited to be part of the Victim Survivors’ Advisory Council. Last year, I ran for a seat in the Upper House in the Victorian elections with my friend Tarang Chawla, whose sister was murdered by her partner. To our knowledge, we’re the first people to have run on an anti-violence against women platform. We didn’t get a seat out of it, but with Tarang, I’ve gained the best friend I’ve ever had.
People around me hadn’t noticed there was anything wrong in my relationship. If you looked at a man and a woman, and one of them was taking strict control of, say, the finances, you’d probably think to yourself, “What’s going on here?” But if one of those people had a disability, it would look as if they were just caring for them. That can be the case, of course, but it can also be a symptom of abuse. Attitudes towards representation need to change; people with disability need to be included on an equal level. We can’t understand what we don’t see, and if we’re not equally represented in the media and the workplace – as well as in feminist spaces – then how can people understand and break down the misconceptions? When I go to the supermarket, I’m not amazing or inspiring – I’m just doing my grocery shopping. I can’t wait for the day when I’m just seen as Nicole, and am recognised for the value I have to give, rather than the person who represents disability all the time.
Apart from seeing my ex-husband on a screen in court, I haven’t seen him for a few years now. It’s dawning on me, though, that I’m still afraid of him. I wonder if it’s annoying him, frustrating him or making him hate me even more when I speak out. I don’t think he would do anything, but it’s always at the back of my mind. There’s still an element of control there, even from a distance and after all this time. I could go down the path of not publicly speaking about it, but that doesn’t feel right – that’s giving him power and he’s not allowed to have that anymore.
I wish I didn’t have to go through what I did, but if I look for the positives, I’ve got my son, and I’ve built up a resilience I didn’t think was possible. I used to think everyone had to work hard on relationships, but now I realise that’s not true. I’ve been with my new partner for three years, and he’s amazing – he doesn’t need to come and save me when I’m feeling down; he can just sit there in those moments and reassure me I’m OK. That’s why I’m marrying him – we’ve just started looking at engagement rings.