'Thank God there was a door' A safe harbor for stormy lives Animals love human volunteers Bean Project changes lives City Red Cross chapter helps victims of 300 blazes yearly Cops continue crusade for needy kids Dental clinic for kids delivers smiles Denver Partners find joy in mentoring Determination helps single mom Feast gives poor a meal fit for king Green thumbs, warm hearts help harvest hope for needy Homeless critters need Christmas, too Kids Cafes serve up sustenance Little white ball leads teen to turnaround Mentors help teens excel in school, life Musician strikes chord with mentors Once-homeless teen opens door Project Angel Heart's meals a blessing to Denver's sick Rape awareness program also emphasizes prevention Reach out by reading aloud to kids Recipient: Samaritan House help 'a miracle' Salvation Army long has helped the needy, especially at yule School's goal is personal growth Specialist helps keep Indians in class Students communicate, learn through dance moves Sungate helps abused kids survive confusion and pain
'Thank God there was a door'
A safe harbor for stormy lives
Animals love human volunteers
Bean Project changes lives
City Red Cross chapter helps victims of 300 blazes yearly
Cops continue crusade for needy kids
Dental clinic for kids delivers smiles
Denver Partners find joy in mentoring
Determination helps single mom
Feast gives poor a meal fit for king
Green thumbs, warm hearts help harvest hope for needy
Homeless critters need Christmas, too
Kids Cafes serve up sustenance
Little white ball leads teen to turnaround
Mentors help teens excel in school, life
Musician strikes chord with mentors
Once-homeless teen opens door
Project Angel Heart's meals a blessing to Denver's sick
Rape awareness program also emphasizes prevention
Reach out by reading aloud to kids
Recipient: Samaritan House help 'a miracle'
Salvation Army long has helped the needy, especially at yule
School's goal is personal growth
Specialist helps keep Indians in class
Students communicate, learn through dance moves
Sungate helps abused kids survive confusion and pain
By Sarah HuntleyDenver Rocky Mountain News Staff Writer
Kirstin Brown furrows her 10-year-old brow, inhales deeply and prepares to startle her attacker. "Back off," she bellows, as she lifts her knee and flicks out her leg for a quick kick. Then she erupts into a fit of giggles. This is just a drill, but Amy Farnan hopes the early morning lesson will help Brown and her classmates stay safe should danger strike. "You have a right to defend yourself and respect yourself," Farnan tells the girls during a presentation of "Yell It, Tell It, Believe It" at Brown Elementary School in northwest Denver. The program, which focuses on safety techniques and abuse prevention, reaches between 18,000 to 20,000 kids a year. It is run by the Rape Assistance and Awareness Program, also known as RAAP. Since it was founded in 1983, RAAP has provided hotline assistance, counseling and support for women who have been victimized. In recent years, however, the Denver-based organization began to see another need. "Over half the calls we were getting were about kids or on behalf of kids who were being abused. It just became evident that we needed to address that," says Karmen Carter, RAAP's executive director. "The other piece is that if we ever want to get out of this business, we have to do something to prevent the problem." So RAAP began sharing its message with tomorrow's adults. Five educators, most of whom work part time, target schools, Big Sisters programs and community groups that strive to teach girls important life skills. Depending on the students' ages, the educators use puppets or anecdotal examples to encourage the girls to discuss issues of self-esteem, violence prevention and sexual harassment. Sometimes, they see immediate results. RAAP educators elicit between 150 to 200 disclosures of abuse a year. Some come from children who raise their hands during a presentation. Others are based on teacher feedback about how a student is reacting to the message. "We really try to work with the schools and keep communication open," Carter says. RAAP's biggest need both for its prevention and victims services programs is money. The budget for its education efforts, 24-hour hotline and counseling services totals about $600,000. Some of that comes from government funding, but the organization relies heavily on donations. For those who are not able to open their wallets, there are other ways to show support. RAAP also benefits from people power. "It's all about access. We need help getting into the schools," Farnan says. "We go to a lot of PTA meetings to talk to parents about our program. Their support is key." The group could also use volunteers to staff its around-the-clock, seven-days-a-week crisis hotline. The phone bank, which started out as one line in a church basement, has grown dramatically. Run by an answering service that patches callers through to volunteers who work out of their homes, the hotline (303 322-7273) logs about 2,000 calls a year. It requires about 50 volunteers, who donate between 24 and 30 hours a month. RAAP offers hotline training three times a year. The next session is in January. Not everyone who calls seeks out RAAP's other programs. "It's very hard for people to come in and get services," Carter says. "But the hotline is a very safe first step. We want people to know they aren't out there alone." That sense of solidarity has changed at least one rape survivor's life. Melissa, who asked that her last name be withheld, first sought counseling from RAAP about two years ago more than nine years after being raped in college. "I didn't realize how little I really knew," she says. "I think that society still blames the victim, and I was doing that to myself. ... But rape is not your fault. To be in a roomful of other women who are conquering the same issues and fears is very empowering." Melissa doesn't attend regular counseling sessions these days, but she sees RAAP as a constant resource. "It scares me to think where I'd be if it weren't this organization," she says. "I always know I have RAAP." Contact Sarah Huntley at (303) 892-5212 or huntleys@RockyMountainNews.com. December 13, 2000 NewsWeatherOpinionNationWorldSci/TechDeaths BusinessStocks Bank Rates SportsBroncosAvalancheNuggetsRockiesCollegeRockyPreps RecreationSnow Rept.HikingBikingFishingGolfCalendarDentry EntertainmentMoviesDiningMusicOn StageBooksTV Living Comics Health Food Home & Garden Family Travel Cookbook Births Weddings Crossword ClassifiedPlace an adAutoCareersHomes User Agreement / Privacy Statement © Copyright, Denver Publishing Co.Subscribe to the NewsQuestions? Comments? Talk to Us
Kirstin Brown furrows her 10-year-old brow, inhales deeply and prepares to startle her attacker.
"Back off," she bellows, as she lifts her knee and flicks out her leg for a quick kick.
Then she erupts into a fit of giggles.
This is just a drill, but Amy Farnan hopes the early morning lesson will help Brown and her classmates stay safe should danger strike.
"You have a right to defend yourself and respect yourself," Farnan tells the girls during a presentation of "Yell It, Tell It, Believe It" at Brown Elementary School in northwest Denver.
The program, which focuses on safety techniques and abuse prevention, reaches between 18,000 to 20,000 kids a year. It is run by the Rape Assistance and Awareness Program, also known as RAAP.
Since it was founded in 1983, RAAP has provided hotline assistance, counseling and support for women who have been victimized. In recent years, however, the Denver-based organization began to see another need.
"Over half the calls we were getting were about kids or on behalf of kids who were being abused. It just became evident that we needed to address that," says Karmen Carter, RAAP's executive director.
"The other piece is that if we ever want to get out of this business, we have to do something to prevent the problem."
So RAAP began sharing its message with tomorrow's adults. Five educators, most of whom work part time, target schools, Big Sisters programs and community groups that strive to teach girls important life skills.
Depending on the students' ages, the educators use puppets or anecdotal examples to encourage the girls to discuss issues of self-esteem, violence prevention and sexual harassment.
Sometimes, they see immediate results.
RAAP educators elicit between 150 to 200 disclosures of abuse a year. Some come from children who raise their hands during a presentation. Others are based on teacher feedback about how a student is reacting to the message.
"We really try to work with the schools and keep communication open," Carter says.
RAAP's biggest need both for its prevention and victims services programs is money. The budget for its education efforts, 24-hour hotline and counseling services totals about $600,000. Some of that comes from government funding, but the organization relies heavily on donations.
For those who are not able to open their wallets, there are other ways to show support. RAAP also benefits from people power.
"It's all about access. We need help getting into the schools," Farnan says. "We go to a lot of PTA meetings to talk to parents about our program. Their support is key."
The group could also use volunteers to staff its around-the-clock, seven-days-a-week crisis hotline. The phone bank, which started out as one line in a church basement, has grown dramatically.
Run by an answering service that patches callers through to volunteers who work out of their homes, the hotline (303 322-7273) logs about 2,000 calls a year. It requires about 50 volunteers, who donate between 24 and 30 hours a month.
RAAP offers hotline training three times a year. The next session is in January.
Not everyone who calls seeks out RAAP's other programs.
"It's very hard for people to come in and get services," Carter says. "But the hotline is a very safe first step. We want people to know they aren't out there alone."
That sense of solidarity has changed at least one rape survivor's life.
Melissa, who asked that her last name be withheld, first sought counseling from RAAP about two years ago more than nine years after being raped in college.
"I didn't realize how little I really knew," she says. "I think that society still blames the victim, and I was doing that to myself. ... But rape is not your fault. To be in a roomful of other women who are conquering the same issues and fears is very empowering."
Melissa doesn't attend regular counseling sessions these days, but she sees RAAP as a constant resource.
"It scares me to think where I'd be if it weren't this organization," she says. "I always know I have RAAP."
Contact Sarah Huntley at (303) 892-5212 or huntleys@RockyMountainNews.com.
December 13, 2000