JAMIE VAN SICKLE WHITE

I was born August 1, 1977 in Belle Fourche, South Dakota, which has the distinction of being the geographical center of the nation. When I was about a year old, we moved to Spearfish, South Dakota, and that is where I grew up and had my education - kindergarten through high school - along with my two sisters, one who is three years older than I, the other five years younger.

I had a fairly typical childhood. We lived out of town and had space to run and do lots of things we wanted to do. We had a big garden, and we girls were responsible for its upkeep. It kept us busy all summer long. My older sister and I received an allowance for babysitting our little sister and gardening. Both our parents worked, and we three kids were home alone, at a pretty young age. It seemed natural then but I know I wouldn't be comfortable doing that now. Even though it wasn't that many years ago, life was different then.

When I was in eighth grade, we moved into town. My older sister and I were at the age where we were happy to do that. We could be with our friends and take part in school activities, but in reality it was kind of a let-down. We weren't as free as we had been, we couldn't ever be alone, and we felt there was always someone around watching us. That part was kind of a hard adjustment, but for the most part it was good. All three of us played basketball in high school, and our parents would have had lots of transporting if we'd stayed in the country.

When I was five and six years old, I used to play school all the time. My mom said she always knew that I would be a teacher or do some kind of work with children. I guess I was fortunate to know what I wanted to do, because I didn't have to make the hard decision that lots of young people have to make. Accordingly, when I graduated from high school, I enrolled in Black Hills State University in Spearfish. Our parents didn't have a lot of money and I knew that if I wanted a college education, I would have to do it on my own, and I did. I had decent grades in high school, which earned some scholarships, and I took out a couple loans. I took big class loads so I could finish in four years. It was a hard time and I don't know if I would recommend it to anyone, but I'm pleased that I did it.

During the summers all through college, I worked as a photographer in Keystone, South Dakota by Mt. Rushmore. It was a tourist area, of course, and I made good money, which paid for a semester of school. All together, I worked there five summers. I love the Black Hills. I've always said that is God's country. I consider Spearfish the most beautiful town in the whole world, and I was reluctant to leave, even though eventually I did.

I graduated from college in May 1999, and began looking around. It seemed like all the jobs were taken, but I finally was hired in Johnstown, Nebraska, to teach fifth and sixth grades. I rationalized that it might be good for me to move away from home, and because my sister lived about 50 miles from there, it didn't seem I would be completely alone. In some ways it was wonderful. It was a rural school; there were only four classrooms, and four teachers who taught all the subjects. There were only ten in my class, I loved the kids, and the area wasn't bad. Perhaps I'd not have chosen another way to begin a teaching career because it brought out independence in me I didn't know I had, but it was difficult for a first year teacher because we had to do everything without support.

To complicate matters, in December my sister and her husband took other jobs and moved away. I was halfway through the school year and needed to stay there, but I became really, really lonely. It struck me then that I didn't know anyone. I was 21, the other three teachers were nice, but a lot older and had families. It's hard to make friends when you don't have a place to start.

My one companion was my dog. We had dogs while I was growing up, but the death of the last one was a major family trauma, and my parents said, "No more:" When I moved to Nebraska, I bought a dog - a chocolate Labrador. I had always wanted a male, planning to name him Jonah, but I fell in love with this female and decided if I spelled her name Johnna, it would compensate for accepting this gender.

January of that year began a downward spiral that I was caught in for years. I met Bruce. All my life I'd been selective of the crowd I hung around with. I wanted to be around people who made me feel good, who brought out the best in me. There were some members in my extended family that weren't like that, and I chose not to put myself in such situations. I discovered, however, that loneliness can do strange things. The only reason I can give for the situation I allowed myself to be in is that I was so miserable I thought anything would be better than what I had. Maybe I was not as grown up as I thought I was.

Bruce was not someone I would ever have pictured myself with, but after the New Year holiday, he moved in with me and I became pregnant. In awhile I discovered he had a daughter who lived in Illinois, and he wanted to move back there. I knew I didn't want to marry this man but I rationalized that I couldn't keep a father from his child, so I moved with him to Illinois. Saying goodbye to my parents was one of saddest days of my life. They knew this wasn't the man for me, and that where I was going was twelve hours away from them. They couldn't pop in for the weekend. At the same time, they respected me as an adult, who could make my own decisions. They told me their feelings and concerns, but they weren't going to tell me what to do. I knew how they felt, and went in spite of it.

For the first time in my life, I experienced humidity. We had very little of that in South Dakota and between it and my condition, I was miserable. I began desperately searching for a job, but it was obvious that I was six months pregnant, and no one would hire me. Bruce didn't get a job, but financially we were not in dire straits because I was on a contract in which I was being paid year round. We didn't see his daughter. Her mother had kept that from happening. I never did understand the urgency of our move there.

Even though he was a very selfish person, when we had been around my parents, he was always nice. Because he rarely had a job, he spent all the extra money I had made on "Big Boy Toys" - video games and all that kind of stuff. He would stay home all day amusing himself with those things, but for the most part, he was nice to me. I really thought he loved me, I suppose because I wanted it so badly.

However, when we moved to Illinois, things started to change. We found a little tiny apartment in a motel. Looking back, I can't believe I lived there. It was horrible! We had no phone, no cable, and no air conditioning. It was so hot and the humidity was just about to kill me! I kept remembering there was no humidity in South Dakota. And here I was pregnant, didn't have my mom around, and I'm sure I was hard to live with.

Bruce finally got a job in which he worked from 2:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. I would take him to work, because we had just one car, then I would return home, and, with my dog beside me, I'd call my mom on the pay phone in the parking lot and we'd talk for hours. I can't imagine the size of her phone bill, but she stayed with me, as did Johnna. I found the truth in the saying that a dog is man's best friend. A lot of the time, she was all I had, and she is still with me.

Almost immediately after our move to Illinois, Bruce began to change. When he got upset, he started throwing things or knocking things over. It started with small things, and then he began slapping me in the face, punching me, and of course, my biggest fear was the baby. But I felt so alone, like I was trapped. It continued to get worse until one day I called my mom andtold her what was happening and that I wanted to come home. She said, "We will leave in the morning. I'll call Grandma and we'll be there to get you in the morning."

When Bruce got home that night, I told him what was going on, and I was leaving. He apologized profusely, promising it would never happen again. I believed him, called my mom, and told her I decided to stay. She didn't like it. I am sure she was very upset and I probably gave her the hardest day in her whole life, making her a victim of another of my bad choices.

So I stayed, and the situation got worse and worse. There was violence more and more often. There were times when I tried to call the police and he'd grab the phone and smash it. I tried to get out of the house and he blocked my way. There were so many times that I not only worried about my life but the baby's life as well. Bruce made it very clear that he was in charge, and he could kill me and the baby if he wanted to. I really believed it. I really believed there was nothing I could do.

I never understood abused women until I was one. Even now I can hardly comprehend that I ever went through that. It doesn't seem like it was me, and I guess I just wasn't myself for a couple years.

We moved to another apartment about a month before my son was born. I started having problems with my pregnancy - high blood pressure; my ambiotic fluid was really, really low. I have since discovered that trauma can cause the body to stop producing ambiotic fluid. It was all related to what I was going through. Often, when I reported for a checkup, I'd have a bruise. They asked what it was and I'd come up with an excuse so fast I couldn't believe that I could lie that well and they believed me.

I went to the doctor on Friday when I was about 8 ½ months pregnant. All my physical signs had worsened, and he said, "We're going to induce you on Monday." I was so excited. I thought when I had this baby everything would be perfect. I'd wanted children my whole entire life and it seemed like the answer to everything. I called my parents. They would come and could be there Tuesday. After 29 hours of labor, here was my son: Brody Lee, born September 27, 2000, a millennium baby. I think back on that as a happy time with my family there - my protection. At the same time, I thought everything would be better because both Bruce and I wanted the child. Surely it would solve everything.

Of course, I had nothing for the baby. We had very little money. My family brought everything I needed. As I recall, my parents stayed for three or four days. It was horrible when they left. They knew it was a bad situation but they had obligations to get home for. It was the first time I'd ever seen my dad cry.

In spite of my hopes and Bruce's promises, things did not improve. The abuse was still going on. There were times when he would hit me while I was holding the baby, and I knew I had to get out of there. I remember when we lived in the apartment, I was being held on the floor. I would beat on the floor and yell for somebody to call the police. I know people heard, but nobody ever did anything.

Brody and I went home to South Dakota for Christmas. It was wonderful to be there! Of course, it is always nice to be home, and this time everybody was there. I think my parents wanted to show me how much better it could be. However, when it came time to return to Illinois, I had mixed feelings. A large part of my being willing to go was that my dog was still in Illinois. We hadn't taken him with us on the plane. However, I was in a state of depression. I knew I deserved better than the treatment I would be getting, and that for sure, my son deserved better than that. In a couple weeks Bruce and I had gotten into an argument during which he said, "Leave." I called my parents to come get me and Brody, Johnna, and I left. Half way home, we stayed in a motel, and I called Bruce, still thinking I was in love with him. He said, "I am not mad at you. I understand that I am sick and you did what you had to do." I started feeling guilty, but I went home with my parents and moved in with them.

About a month later, Bruce called saying, "I am willing to move to South Dakota for you. If you will have me, I will come so that I can be with you and my son." He came, we moved to Rapid City in February 2001, and it wasn't good. He started drinking, and it got progressively worse. However, I got a good job working at Girls, Inc., designed primarily for Native American girls. It was like an after-school program from school dismissal time until 8:00 p.m., teaching units on social and emotional health issues. The cost to the students was $12 a year. To be qualified for the job, it was necessary to have a degree, which was partly an attempt to show the girls that women can do anything. The position paid pretty well, and I found wonderful in­home child care for Brody. With that much going well, I kind of blocked out how bad our home life was.

In April 2002, we took a trip to visit my sister in Nebraska. It was already established that none of my family liked Bruce, but they were sociable. On the way home Brody was crying. He always has hated riding. When he was two days old, we drove to Chicago to meet my sister, who was flying in to see the baby. He cried the whole way. I get carsick and know how miserable that makes me feel. I have wondered if he feels a degree of that.

We had a wonderful time at my sister's house but the trip home was a seven hour drive. Brody was crying, I was driving, and Bruce was in the passenger seat. I could tell Bruce was becoming more and more frustrated, and kept asking if he wanted to stop. No, he wanted to keep going, but finally he'd had enough. He turned around and started flicking Brody on the temple. This caused him to scream louder, of course. I was in panic. I started to pull over and he said, "If you pull over, I'm going to do it again."

I didn't know what to do, so I kept driving. We were about two hours into the trip, and I drove the rest of the way, the whole five hours, without stopping and without talking. It was horrible! When we arrived home in Rapid City, I took Brody out of the car and could see the whole side of his head was bruised, showing fingernail marks. I started vomiting. I took Brody inside and I knew that was enough. I didn't care if I died trying, I was getting my child out of that environment. I tried to make a phone call. Bruce absolutely wouldn't let me leave. I guess he believed that if I thought about it awhile, I'd change my mind, as I'd done in the past.

This time was different. I knew that the next day when he went to work, I'd have a chance to go. I faked it that night and said I'd forgiven him, but I called Mom the next morning and told her all that had happened. I intended to call the police but I wanted someone there in case he came home and did something similar to a time when I called the police and he punched himself in the eye, saying I had done it. I knew I had to have a witness.

Once again my parents came! I often think how much I put them through. We called the police, they went to Bruce's workplace, arrested him, and took him to the police station. However, there were complications. They couldn't press charges in South Dakota because it happened while we were traveling in Nebraska.  They asked, "Do you have any marks, anything that would allow us to hold this man?"  I had the remainder of a bruise from a time he had thrown something at me, and they used that as evidence. They kept him overnight, and we got a protection order. I stayed alone for awhile, but it got so scary that I moved in with my aunt in Sturgis, South Dakota.

It was like starting over. I was a single parent, and even though I had a degree, the cost of living in the Black Hills National Forest, where (in my opinion) everyone wants to live, was extremely high, at the same time the wages were low. I knew I could not make a living there.

When Bruce was out of the picture, I was ashamed to be a single parent. I hadn't been married, and that didn't follow my morals or my upbringing at all. I had been baptized Lutheran and we had always attended Lutheran churches, but my sister told me about a non-denominational church, one of the new-wave churches with a live band, and power point presentations. The first time I went, by way of welcoming a newcomer, I was given a form to fill out to tell a little about myself. There were blanks following "Are you..." with the options of "married, divorced, single parent," etc. It seemed to me the most wonderful thing ever, it was so accepting. You get snubbed by some people, but seeing "single parent" on that form made me feel that here was a congregation who accepted me. I was welcome, no matter whom I was or what I'd done.

The usual image of a typical congregation is families, older couples, and older singles. Visitors or new people would come to our church, and sit in the back pews, uncertain of what to do. In the strict tradition in which I was raised, if you were a member you could do some things, and if not, you couldn't. It didn't bother me because I was a member. I never thought of it as exclusionary because that is what I was accustomed to.

This church was totally different - so accepting. Anyone was welcome, and it was fun to go there. I had so much shame and guilt, very low self-confidence, that in other churches, I sat there wondering what people were thinking of me, which should be the last thing on our minds in church. In this church were people who were probably close to homeless, dirty, poorly dressed, but they were treated just like everyone else. That was what I needed. That church had a big impact on my life.

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Last Revised November 13, 2012