Men’S Program Aids Batterers In Recovering

Nothing was sacred among the 2,000 men who came together in Albuquerque, N.M., a decade ago.

They divulged insecurities about their sexuality. They confessed to fragile self-esteem. They admitted to confusion over their various daily roles - boss, husband, father, son, provider, disciplinarian, friend.

They talked about their love affairs, homophobia and failed goals. Several middle-aged men revealed their homosexuality for the first time.

Some owned up to violence against women and explored the origins of their behavior.

The gathering awakened counselor Edwin Hutchinson to how much men can help one another and learn from each other’s experiences.

He returned to his practice in Salt Lake City and started a men’s group.

“I saw hospitals for women and children, women’s centers, but no facility, practitioner or agency dedicated to the wellness of men,” says Edwin, 54.

He began with a handful of men meeting a few times a week for self-discovery, then decided to specialize in men with violence problems. Now, he runs Idaho’s first nonprofit counseling center for batterers.

Edwin calls it the AMEND Center, for Awakening Men Exploring New Directions. It’s in Coeur d’Alene.

“There’s no pussyfooting around there,” says Greg Orlando, who heads Kootenai County’s adult misdemeanor probation department. Many of his charges are ordered by the courts to attend Edwin’s sessions.

“It’s very successful. I feel good about what’s happening there.”

The men’s groups ended Edwin’s 24-year journey to the heart of domestic problems. He began his career counseling drug-addicted teens in New York, then shifted to their parents.

“Even if you’re helping the kids to change, they have a better chance of making it if you teach the parents skills,” he says.

The Albuquerque gathering narrowed his focus to men.

Edwin’s first groups were safe places for men to acknowledge and express their feelings. The groups grew into retreats at which participants would admit their shames at first privately, then to the entire group.

He left Utah in 1994 to build Lewis Clark State College’s social work program in Coeur d’Alene. After the program was running smoothly in 1998, he decided to open a men’s center in his new home.

Domestic violence prevention was growing as a public concern. Edwin believed a men’s group was the perfect place to attack the problem.

About the time the AMEND Center opened, the state began requiring men charged with felony battery to undergo evaluations to determine their potential to do future harm.

Edwin offered evaluations as well as group counseling.

David, who doesn’t want his last name used, was one of Edwin’s first clients.

“I was scared when I came, but I figured it would help me,” says the soft-spoken, 20-something man. “I never wanted to be thought of as abusive.”

He grabbed his wife’s arm during an argument and pinned her against a railing. She screamed. Neighbors called police.

His attorney suggested he call the AMEND Center before the court ordered him to. At each weekly meeting, David had to introduce himself, state his crime and update his progress - for example, “I had no more incidences this week,” or “I relapsed and grabbed Amy’s hair.”

Edwin insisted men call women by their names and nothing else. Bit by bit, men in the group opened up. David wept as Edwin helped him understand the genesis of his anger and taught him better ways to communicate.

“I was doubtful. I expected things to go back to the way they were,” says Amy, David’s wife of five years. “But he became a softer, kinder man. He changed, so I changed.”

David spent a year at AMEND, which is evident in his speech and behavior. He’s evangelical about the program he says saved his marriage.

“I know everyone is capable of violence, and without the skills to handle it, will act out,” he says. “When I begin to get angry, the first thing that pops into my head is `Stop!”’

Mike Valente, 33, still cringes from the media coverage of his assault on his wife, Erin, a year ago. The Post Falls native hit Erin several times in front of their two young boys. He’d been drinking. He spent a month in jail.

He began sessions at the AMEND Center last June.

“I didn’t think I needed to be there,” he says. “Now, I look forward to class. He emphasizes how short and sweet life is and how precious it is. It’s been a tremendous education.”

Erin sees necessary changes in Mike.

“He doesn’t yell anymore. He doesn’t drink. He’s not doing drugs,’ she says. “Mike comes away from the class and talks about how much it’s helping him.”

He realizes when he’s trying to use power to control her, she says.

Half of Edwin’s 92 clients are court-ordered into his sessions. Twenty-five have completed the course, which costs $20 to $35 per week depending on income. He invites graduates to return to any session free anytime.

“It’s easy to end your relationship,” says Amy. “But you’ll go back and do the same things again unless you learn the skills to change.”