Page 44 - DAPHNE HART - MY MAMA STORY (AUDIO VERSION)

But He just smiled and said, “You worry too much, Martha. Your sister
Mary has chosen the better way, and it shall not be taken away from

her.”

They were all fed and on their way before the sun set.

I worked for a dry cleaning establishment for twelve of the fifteen years

that I lived with this man. Many times, I couldn’t go in to work because
I was literally raped and beaten — black and blue, eyes swollen and

shut.

On this particular morning, I left without making his breakfast — which
usually consisted of banana, dumplings, mackerel or codfish, fried

plantain, and whatever else was available. I was running late, and he
was not working that day, so I took off to catch the bus.

Shortly after I got to work, he came in through the back door, grabbed

me by the hair, and started punching me in the face — right in front of
my coworkers. I was so ashamed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

They told me to press charges against him, but I couldn’t. That was a
common thing in those days — men beating up their women was a

pastime. It was the first time he attacked me at my workplace.

I was so humiliated, I just wanted to die. Luckily, the Presser was there

— a young up-and-coming boxer. He grabbed him and punched him a

couple of times, so he left with his tail between his legs, threatening
what he was going to do to me.

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