Defeated

I wish when I feel defeated I didn’t have to feel defeated. Everyone else is like “Eh, okay, I’ll recover” and they recover. But me, defeat always feels like I’ve been set all the way back to absolute square one, and now I have to go through this long arduous journey through all the obstacles I already overcame to get back to where I was before. It’s tiring.

At 5:30 in the morning, Joshua Miller has already been up an hour. Dressed in navy blue trousers, a purple plaid shirt, black leather shoes and a straw hat, Miller sits on the porch of The Family Place’s men’s shelter with his 2-year-old son, Jordan.

The nondescript house sits on a quiet street in Dallas. If you didn’t know it was there, you’d walk right past it.

It's currently the only men's shelter in Texas. For the men who come here, the day-in and day-out challenges are similar to those faced by many female victims of domestic violence. But these men face some unique hurdles, as well.

The men’s shelter opened after The Family Place got $150,000 in grants from the United Way, the Meadows Foundation and the Criminal Justice Division. Paige Fink, CEO of The Family Place, said the money allowed the organization to hire the staff for the shelter. Staff members said the Dallas men's shelter and the Taylor House for Men in Batesville, Ark., are the nation's only shelters specifically for men.

Last year, before the Dallas men’s shelter opened, The Family Place served 32 men and gave them hotel rooms. Fink thinks the new shelter will let The Family Place help at least 50 this year.

Miller, 36, has been at the shelter nearly four weeks with his son, but today is the first day he could get the child into a day care. Jordan sits anxiously in his father’s lap as birds begin to chirp around him. Jordan has been allowed to take one of his toy cars with him for the day and clutches it with all the strength his tiny hands can muster. Miller takes slow drags from a cigarette to pass the time.

The van for the day care finally rolls up; the father and son have been waiting about 20 minutes. Jordan wails as his father hands him off to the worker, and the doors slide shut.  “I’ll see you later. Be good,” Miller says, struggling to hold in his emotions.

He knew it would be hard to let his son go off for the first time, but he has to get ready for the coming day. He’s got a day full of appointments to take care of and has to catch a bus by 7:30 a.m.

The shelter tries to get clients back on their feet within 45 days. It’s just Miller and his son in the small room they now call a home. But once Jordan is off to day care, Miller is on his own.

Without a home

Miller can’t be late for his bus. He waits at the stop for a ride taking him to DART's West Transfer Center.  When he gets there, the sun in the sky is still gently nudging homeless people out of their slumber.

Seeing this is a sobering reminder for Josh of just how close he and his son came to ending up among their ranks. Even though he’s at a shelter, he’s still classified as homeless.

Miller never expected to be at a shelter for male victims of domestic violence. On June 6, Gekyma Robinson, Miller's ex-girlfriend and Jordan's mother, was arrested on suspicion of assaulting Miller, according to an arrest warrant. The affidavit for the warrant says a witness saw Robinson hit Miller with a child's guitar and with her hand after an argument about rent payment. Miller was granted an order for emergency protection for him and his son, according to records from the Dallas County district attorney's office provided by Miller.

When contacted by The News, Robinson said: "I'm sorry. I hate that it happened." She declined to comment further. Her next court date is set for later this month. She is not in jail.

The police gave Miller a list of places to seek for shelter after the assault. The Family Place was the first name that came up. Soon, Miller had a room and a safe place to stay.  Two small bunks take up most of the space. Hanging on the wall is small TV that Miller uses to play Call of Duty on his Xbox in what little free time he has.

What the shelter doesn’t offer in luxurious accommodations, it makes up in security. Bells ring anytime someone walks into or out of the shelter. Cameras are everywhere.

Margie Heilbronner, a case manager for The Family Place, is in charge of day-to-day operations of the shelter. She’s been working with male victims for about 12 years, so the challenges they face are nothing new to her.

The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says 27.5 percent of men are victims of violence by an intimate partner at some time in their lives.

Heilbronner says abuse of men is still not widely addressed for a number of reasons. There are the gender norms that portray men as always strong and unlikely be abused. She said there's also a lack of public awareness about men as victims of domestic violence.

She said pride is one thing that affects male victims differently than women. “Because if they talk to their best friend, they’re laughing," she said. "They’ll say, ‘Suck it up, you’re a man, you shouldn’t have to put up with that.’”

Even at the shelter, the stigma still exists. Miller said that one day another client came up to him and told him bluntly, “I would never let a woman hit on me.”

Securing resources

A large part of Miller’s day consists of getting in lines and waiting. He has an appointment at Greater Workforce Solutions, where he spends the better part of two hours sitting in a chair and listening for his number to be called. He’s been here enough times to know some of the workers by name, but mostly he sits quietly and patiently by himself.

For Miller, one of the hardest parts about getting everything set up has been securing resources for his son. Workers at The Family Place say  getting social services to help male victims is a challenge.

Even at The Family Place, there are more services for women than men. The women’s shelter has on-site services such as day care and a nurse, but the men’s shelter does not.

Miller is Jordan’s custodial parent and  receives government benefits that help pay for food and living expenses. But the process to receive aid is slow.

It took him the better part of three weeks to find day care for Jordan. Until he found a place for the boy,  he had to take him on his trips across the city to hunt for jobs and apartments and sign up for government-sponsored programs.

Now that Jordan is taken care of during the day, Miller's commute is a little easier. But only by a bit. Riding around the city on the DART has been eye-opening for Miller, who uses a mix of trains and buses.

But it’s a grueling process. It takes him two hours to get to his appointment at the Southwest Workforce Center near Duncanville. Most of the trip is spent waiting at stops under the sweltering summer sun. If Miller had access to a car, the drive would take about 20 minutes.

Challenges growing up

Born and raised in Youngstown, Ohio, Miller faced challenges from an early age. Factories in the  town had mostly shut down by the time he was born. With few opportunities, kids took to the streets to get by. Miller recalled kids as young as 12 being gang members.  At 21, they were considered OGs, or original gangsters. If they made it that long.

Miller admits he’s done things he regrets. There’s a wound in his left leg from where a family member shot him during an argument a few years ago. He has a criminal record for a marijuana possession arrest in 2008. But now he’s seeking a new start.

Despite the limitations of public transportation, Miller says he’s done more in the last three weeks than in the last three years.

He says he can’t be bitter. He has a routine and he sticks to it to ward off chaos. He carries a white plastic binder of documents for him and Jordan at all times. His mornings start well before the crack of dawn. But he can’t risk putting him or his son anywhere near the streets.

Miller finishes out his day by getting fitted for a suit at the Southwest Workforce Center. With the help of a stylist provided by the center, he tries on several suits for job interviews before settling on one. After that, he has to catch a bus and rush to an appointment in South Dallas before he gets back to The Family Place shelter around 6 p.m.

Home

One evening, three weeks later, Jordan won’t stop crying. The toddler has just returned home from day care. But he doesn't react well when Miller uses a siphon to clear the child's sinuses. That’s when the tears start rolling.

After negotiating with the child for what seems forever, Miller finally gets him to calm down by giving him a bright yellow “Minions” plush doll. It’s been a long day for everyone. In fact, it’s been a long couple of days.

Over the weekend, Miller and Jordan got into an apartment provided and furnished by The Family Place. For now, it has only the bare necessities: a small gray couch in the living room, a dining room table for two, two mattresses in the bedroom, a refrigerator, a stove, a dresser and a couple of lamp stands. There’s not a TV.

The bare white walls are a testament to just how new this is for Miller and his son. Over the last three weeks, a lot has changed. Miller now has a job sorting clothes at a Goodwill warehouse. It doesn't pay much — $8.95 an hour — but he's just been offered a permanent position there.

The father and son are still considered homeless since they’re living in transitional housing. Miller still needs to find a home he can pay for on his own. The transitional housing program is applied in six-month increments and can last up to 18 months, but he wants to find permanent housing soon.

His biggest fear during this process was how everything would affect Jordan. His son has been his motivation throughout the process. “Parenting is not hard, but life is,” Miller says. “If you love your child, [responsibility] becomes a part of you.”

The situation has also taught him about the realities of domestic violence and why it’s so hard for victims to come forward.  “A lot of times people are afraid to speak up because ... they’re still in love,” he says. “Maybe they have fears. Maybe it’s insecurity. Pride issues. Not knowing one’s self-worth.”

Jordan starts fussing for food, so Miller makes him a snack of vienna sausages, potato chips and Kool-Aid to hold him over until supper. He starts heating up the stove and begins to prepare a meal of chicken, rice, green beans and bread.

Miller will share the dinner with his son, who knows how to manipulate his heartstrings just a little bit. Life still isn’t “normal” for them, and it may never be. But for now, at least they’re together.