Show Notes
What does my ‘after’ look like? How did my story begin?
Tender is a thoughtful podcast series about what happens when women leave abusive relationships.
The first season of Tender followed Madison’s journey of self-discovery and growth after an abusive relationship, zooming in on the small, soft details. Tender started where the story seemingly ends, at least in how domestic abuse narratives are often conveyed.
It has been two years, and in that time domestic abuse has remained a national crisis.
For those that survive abusive relationships, that forge their own complex journeys after undergoing a kind of private terror, the monstrosity of that experience doesn’t come with an expiration date. The hurt doesn’t always promise to subside, and when—or if—it does, the healing never quite looks the way it seems it should. But scattered amongst it all are pivotal moments: of tenderness, of growth, of selfhood.
In the second season of Tender, we introduce you to Roia Atmar, a mother, activist, survivor. Join us as we invite you into Roia’s after.
Credits 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 Trailer Video Producer: Madison Griffiths Website: Kat Huang (Peer Process)
Tender season two is Broadwave podcast supported by the Victorian Government through Creative Victoria, and proudly sponsored by the Victorian Women’s Trust.
Get in touch We love hearing from our listeners. Stay in touch across Twitter, Instagram and Facebook at @broadwavepods, and @tenderpodcast on Twitter
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.”