Show Notes
What does leaving actually look like? What does it mean for a space to become yours?
For Roia Atmar, it began in a burns unit in a Perth hospital during the summer of 1998. After a brutal domestic assault from her then husband, the shy 20-year-old had never ventured out of the suburban home she shared with her partner’s family… at least since arriving in Australia from Pakistan six years prior as a 14-year-old bride. In episode 1 Something Burning, Roia harnesses her strength: musing on how, when something goes up in flames, it becomes larger than itself.
Co-producers: Madison Griffiths and Beth Atkinson-Quinton Lead Storyteller: Roia Atmar Sensitivity Editor: Shakira Hussein Assistant Producer: Danae Gibson Sound Designer and Engineer: Jon Tjhia Guests in this episode: Carol*, Jess Hill and Ashlee Donohue. Thank-you to Danae Gibson who voiced Carol, and Jon Tjhia who voiced the nurse. And, a heartfelt thank-you to Carol and Patricia who supported Roia through these early days in her recovery process.
For episode transcripts and more information visit our website and stay in touch across Twitter, Instagram and Facebook at @broadwavepods, and @tenderpodcast on Twitter.
Tender season two is Broadwave podcast supported by the Victorian Government through Creative Victoria, and proudly sponsored by the Victorian Women’s Trust.
More from Tender
A little look behind the scenes of Tender season two with creators Beth and Madison.
“My name is Roia Atmar, and—in my after—I made it a mission that other women find proof of their own. Proof that there is no uncomplicated route, that fear and shame lives in the most dubious of places, even still. That abuse does not end with the last lighting of a match, with the last foul insult, with the last bellow of a man—or ten—as they stand on the dusty steps of a court, the same court where women wanting nothing more than justice stand, holding space for any semblance of pride they can muster. Women that fight for their very own afters.”
“Abuse grows where love once could have. Interpersonal violence is a double-edged sword. And this, this tense and dangerous phenomenon, makes any sort of court proceeding incredibly hard. A webbed thing. The end, or so it seems, of a terrible, loveless promise.”
“Working in the sector, and simultaneously existing as a survivor, means being looked at: being perceived, even if the woman on the other end of the line, or sitting before you, isn’t aware of your past. It means being an image of recovery, whether that image feels fully-formed or not.”
“Over the span of my life, I had to get my nose re-pierced five times. It was a no-brainer: I was obviously going to do it. And, in a way, there was something quite powerful and commanding about my body’s insistence when it came to healing itself. Just this time, they were my wounds: and the sort that allowed me to bedazzle myself, time and time again, bleeding but adorned.”