My first meeting with Linda King, founder of Fix the Hurt, arose just about a year ago. I was a junior at ASU, looking to acquire a minor in women’s studies. The class I was enrolled in, for which I initially became aware of Fix the Hurt, was a class taught by Dr. Durfee titled, “Women and Social Change”. Prior to my experience in this class, I had very little knowledge in not only the organizations, grassroots and non-profits geared towards eliminating violence against women, but the unique fabric of rights social justice for women in general. It was really any other day on campus, me chugging along from class to class, simply trying to fend off the inevitable drowsiness of a Monday afternoon. A guest speaker, I was told. Not a complete, dramatic reversal of the status quo, but a definite hope.
Yet, upon listening to Linda King’s story of trial, hope and courage, I was entirely captivated. Regardless of the fact that I knew not of the organization she was founder of until the end of the demonstration (I had walked in late), there was something unique, yet universal, of the story that followed. A mother’s devotion to her daughter. The strength and wholehearted willingness to preserve the safety of one’s child. The collection of a group of dedicated individuals, all sharing a passion to preserve the safety, the sanctity and social justice of women in need. Linda’s story was of nothing I had ever heard before. Most of the accounts I had received of domestic violence and injustice towards women were through textbooks, television sets and newspapers. Yet, here stood Linda in front of a group of complete strangers, adorned head to toe in soft purple, ribbons of the same color pinned to her chest, unafraid and unashamed to relay a story that was not only painful for her to tell, but extremely personal as well. I believe there was a single moment in the presentation where I had confirmed, within myself, that I wanted to be a part of Fix the Hurt in any way that I could. “I tell you this story,” Linda spoke softly. “because I want you all to know what happened to my daughter in hopes that someone you know can be saved. Telling her story like this is a way of healing, and every day is a struggle.”. A friend, a neighbor, even an acquaintance. If just one person can be affected by a performance such as this, and further inclined to see more of the world around them, to stand up and fight for their daughters and their friends, then one more can be saved. Though I have not been a direct victim of domestic violence myself, following Linda’s presentation I was forced to extract memories from my past, in which I had heard or was made aware of a case of domestic violence. There were certainly more than a few, and certainly more than what I was proud to admit to myself. A classmate. A coworker. A friend. My sister. My mother. From that point onward, what became the most pivotal and the most powerful realization that I was able to extract from Linda’s presentation that afternoon, was the need for awareness. The need for passion. The need to act. Later on that semester, a group of classmates and I performed a campus event in which a domestic violence dispute was enacted, working to raise awareness of students to turn an eye to dangerous and harmful situations. Furthermore, I have continued to intern for Linda at Fix the Hurt to this day, where I plan to stay in this position for the duration of my last semester here at ASU. Because as much as the fight can seem endless and the struggle infinite, when it comes to the public awareness of domestic violence and the preservation of an innocent life, no effort is futile.
