conversations.from: human
conversations.value: a description for a book titled Do or Die about Harlem, Boys, French-born with the genre: Arts & Photography, Photography & Video. End with the sentence ' <BR>Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc.'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: These 64 striking photographs of aspiring boxers in Harlem evoke a world of agility, toughness, speed and rock-hard determination which seems a microcosm of the mean streets beyond the boxing ring. Boys who look eight or 10 years old wear anxious faces; hardened older fighters alternate between macho pride and flashes of camaraderie. French-born photographer/filmmaker the author, who has lived in the United States since 1968, made numerous excursions to Harlem boxing gyms, befriending such legendary boxers as Kid Chocolate and Sandy Saddler whom she anecdotally profiles in her essay. She also discusses the fighters' preparatory rituals, their close relationships with their trainers and the competitive rigors of amateur boxing. <BR>Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first four paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Do or Die
  I have tried to maintain my privacy. I have hidden the truth from people who I have met and worked with. I have rarely opened up and have not spoken about the experiences that I suffered living at the mercy of Brian Kenny. I was ashamed. I was ashamed of what people would think of me, of the assumptions they would make — guilty by association, as they say...
  It is because of these events that I now feel that I want to tell my story. Although I know that it 'will not change the past hurt that I endured, I hope it might help someone in a similar situation to mine — someone who feels scared and vulnerable and is not sure how to escape a difficult and frightening situation.
  Before I met Brian Kenny, I had a relatively colourful, safe and moderate life. I was happy growing up. My mam did her utmost for us. When I look back and think of the happy memories I had, it is hard to understand how things turned out the way they did.
  It was Christmas 1976 and our father had passed away that May. That year Mam bought my brother Joe and me new bicycles, both of them Eskas. Joe's was gold and mine was bright red. We were delighted to see our new bikes. We would never have considered at the time where the money came from; we were too young. Mam had in fact taken out a Credit Union loan. It was Dad's last request before he died that we would get new bikes, as he had been so protective of us and we had not been allowed to have them. It was a request that Mam saw through. I remember Joe and I hauling the bikes upstairs on Christmas Eve, just so we could wake up to see them on Christmas morning. It was probably about five in the morning when we woke up and tried to get the bikes back down the stairs. Joe was the bossy one. He wanted his downstairs first. I don't know where he thought he was going at five in the morning. Joe straddled the bike at the top of the stairs and I held on to the carrier as he tried to guide it down the stairs while holding on to the banister. He protested, telling me that I was holding him back. He told me to let go, which I did. With that Joe went down the stairs like a rocket, crashing into the glass table at the bottom of the stairs. Mam was awoken by all the drama and the mess was soon cleaned up. I still laugh about that today — the sight of Joe cycling out of control down the stairs. It was so funny.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: four more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It was Christmas Eve. I was in the kitchen when I saw Brian pull into the drive in a brand new metallic-green Ford Focus. When he came into the house he placed the keys in my hand and wished me a Happy Christmas. Then he pointed out the window at my Christmas present. I thought we couldn't afford a brand new car, but then the penny dropped. It was a ringer. I refused point blank to drive it, and refused to put my kids in it. He went mad and put his fist through the wall in the hallway. The car remained in the drive over the Christmas period.
  I knew too well what Brian's game was. The car wasn't bought as a Christmas present for me. He was going to have it registered in my name, and would then sell it on at a later stage. If the car was discovered as a ringer, the responsibility would be mine. Brian was furious that I didn't fall for his trick, but I was still left without a car.
  I enjoyed the remainder of Christmas Eve with the kids. We spent Christmas Day in Brian's parents' house in Drogheda. I had invited a couple who I knew quite well for dinner on St Stephen's Day. The couple were in a fix because their heating had broken down and they couldn't find anyone to repair it over Christmas. I was looking forward to entertaining them. It wasn't very often that I got the opportunity to have guests.
  We had a lovely day. The dinner went well and we had a few drinks in the evening and shared a few laughs. I suggested that they stay over. They agreed and we made up makeshift beds for them. Their three kids and my two had a ball. They all slept on the floor in the living room, playing and making tents with the sheets. After breakfast the following morning, they left for home and I began to tidy the house. I was in good form and had enjoyed seeing the kids have such fun with their friends.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last five paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I used to feel that I was fighting my battle with Brian alone. I didn't know which way to turn or what to do. When I eventually escaped from that life and told my family and friends about what I had endured, they were horrified. If you find yourself in the same situation, there are people out there who want to help you. All you have to do is ask. Name and shame your abuser and you will take away his power.
  In a way we are all the makers of our own destiny. I moved on with my life and learned to trust again. It was not easy and in the beginning I thought that I was unworthy of having a normal life again. I no longer knew what my place in society was and I worried about what people thought of me. I had been stripped of any confidence and found it difficult to make decisions about anything. But I fought back with the help of my children, my family and my friends.
  Domestic violence is the threat or use of physical, emotional, psychological and sexual abuse in close adult relationships. This includes destruction of property, isolation from family and friends or other potential sources of support and threats to others including children. Stalking and control over access to money, personal items, food, transport and the telephone are also common examples of domestic abuse. The overwhelming burden of partner violence is experienced by -women. Domestic violence has severe and persistent effects on physical and mental health, and carries with it an enormous cost in terms of premature death and disability. If you are experiencing domestic violence there is help available. You will not be told what to do; you will be shown the options available to you. It's your life and your decision.
  Information and support is available on many of the following areas: Domestic violence, rape and sexual assault, adult survivors of child abuse, crisis accommodation and refuges, empowerment and women's rights.
  Source: http://www.socialwork.ie/socialwork/web-directory/crisis-services/domestic-violence services/rathmines-womens-refuge-dublin