Both sides agree that folks had nothing but the best of intentions when they started the Evanston Shelter for Battered Women and Their Children back in 1981. “There was no home for abused women in the area,” says Rosaline Herstein, a volunteer, who used to edit WEAVE, the shelter’s newsletter. “It was time to bring the North Shore into the 20th century.”
“The shelter used to be a therapeutic and healing place–a place where battered women could start the long process toward getting back on their feet,” says Julie Berg-Einhorn, a volunteer. “Now it’s like a prison. The residents, who are victims, are treated like they did something wrong. The staff’s in turmoil; it’s chaos. It’s awful.”
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YWCA officials counter that the volunteers, though well-intended, have exaggerated the turmoil. “The shelter is going through a transition,” says Marilyn Fischbach, president of the Y’s board. “We’re hiring a new director to fill a vacancy. We’re making changes that are long overdue. In the short term, some people will be upset. But in the long run, the shelter will be better.”
That’s where the YWCA came in. It owned a building in Evanston with space available and had connections to mainstream donors like the United Way. A deal was struck, and the YWCA became the shelter’s fiscal agent, meaning it was the group through which all operating funds where funneled. The shelter opened in 1981.
When Bensten left for another job in 1988, tensions rose between volunteers and Y officials. Herstein says Bensten’s presence maintained some distance between the Y administration and the shelter staff. “After Chris left, the Y officials let us know that this was their shelter.”
“[We are] concerned that [state] funds have been used to partially relieve the YWCA deficit and that quality services to domestic violence victims have not been maintained,” the report read, citing instances where money donated to the shelter was used to repair the elevator and swimming pool in the main YWCA building.
Conditions at the shelter are so intolerable that few residents stay for more than three weeks, the volunteers charge. “Now it’s like a home for the homeless,” says Peg Romm, another volunteer. “That’s not enough time for residents to get back on their feet.”
