My mother, my true hero.

As a child, I witnessed my father beating my mother. My siblings and I would run away when he got in one of his moods. On these nights, we waited outside and kept watch for the lights to go out. That was our signal that it was safe to return. It would take hours some nights. When the lights went out, we knew our father had fallen asleep. We would tiptoe back inside and continue sleeping. So many times, like me, she cried for mercy when no longer able to bear the pain. My mother wore sunglasses to work the following day to cover up the bruises. The more I thought about my mother, the more I realized would end up just like her if I did nothing.

She worked so hard for us, and still, she suffered. She did not want us growing up without a father. Her love for us was more potent than my father’s fist. And now I too felt this strength. Through my child, I felt her courage. It flowed through my veins and pushed me to stand up for myself. Losing my child because of being abused by my husband filled me with regret. It exposed a lot about us as a couple, and it gave me the courage to leave.

Both my husband and I were not ready to become parents, and I wondered if we ever would. In the hospital, my mother reminded me of the other women who experience the same thing . Think about those women; she would say, who’ve been abused and have remained with their husband’s. They think there’s no way out! Maybe if you leave, you would show them that there’s a way. She saw me as hope for all women in Kiribati. It’s not about breaking a relationship; it’s about showing our men what is right and wrong. They won’t know until they are shown. No woman deserves to be abused or killed by her husband. Your freedom is your choice regardless of what. Even though my mother knew that leaving my husband is like a Taboo or something that is not normally allowed in our culture and that people in the community will talk about it she knew that my life is more important than anything else.

After two years of abuse - I was ready to stand up for myself, I planned to escape and hide in a place where he would never find me, the United States of America.

Upon arrival at the United States with a tourist visa I knew I cannot stay over six months, so I have to make a plan to go out and back to America. Since I cannot go back to Kiribati, my first trip was to England which was a great time to catch up with my father’s sister who lived there for a very long time. After a month, I came back again to the United States then again, my six months almost over where I decided to travel to one of my aunties in Australia.

Again, my trip come to an end and it was time for me to go back to the States where some of my friends and family lives. At this time, I had some issues with my travel document where the immigration officers decided to deport me. Because of my problem with my husband I knew I cannot go back to him. I shared it to my immigration officer where they decide to detain me in one of the Immigration Detention Centers in California to wait for my hearing and see if the immigration judge decide not to deport me.

I spent a year and two weeks inside immigration detention to be exact. I was released in 2017. I came to the U.S. in hope of freedom and a peaceful life. My experience inside immigration detention was one of the most rewarding of my life. This may sound crazy since I was in jail, but I was able to find ways to find joy and satisfaction through serving others. One of the things my mother taught me at a young age is that helping people give our life a purpose and that true freedom is a choice regardless of your situation.

I had never had so many opportunities to serve until I arrived in detention. I started by teaching a basic english class to a small group of women who had never attended school. They wanted to use their time inside detention to learn English. From there I continued to seek out more opportunities to help others in detention. That is when I started to having a new dream. A dream of a life that was no longer about me anymore, but about helping people who desperately needed someone because they did not have anybody else.

I wanted to create this letter writing service because it's hard inside detention when you face your trials and challenges alone. To have at least one person outside of detention who is willing to encourage you and support you means the world. Receiving a letter was one of my favourite things while in detention. It always made my day better and happier just because someone knew I existed and took the time to write to me. Even just a half page brought a smile to my face and lifted my spirit. It made me sad to see many women never receive anything. Either their families were not in the U.S. or their families in their home countries were unable to write a letter and/or go to the post office. Remembering the women who did not receive anything is the reason why I created www.dearyous.com. I wanted to provide the opportunity for people to be able to write to immigration detainees in their own free time.

Additionally, receiving documents for court is a huge problem for detainees since it takes so long for international mail to arrive from their home countries. Waiting on documentation meant having to push back their court dates, ultimately prolonging their time spent in jail.

These simple things may seem like it is not a big deal, or it doesn’t really matter, but it matters to detainees. It would mean the world to them to know that there is someone out there willing to offer their hands of service, or even one heart that is willing to offer them love and care. This all happened because of a simple advice and encouragement from a great and loving mother.