The USC Center for Health Journalism launched its Impact Fund for Reporting on Domestic Violence in 2021. It aimed to help journalists frame domestic violence as a public health crisis -- not a private or police matter.
Participating grantees -- and 160 other journalists from around the country -- attended our two-day symposium on domestic violence as a public health issue. The program was made possible thanks to the generous support of the Blue Shield of California Foundation. The Doris Duke Charitable Foundation provided additional support for projects undertaken by reporters from outside California.
Here are summaries of California and National projects that resulted:
California Projects
Francisco Castro, freelancing for Excelsior California, reported a three-part series on the extent of domestic violence in the Hispanic community and the increase in reports during the COVID-19 pandemic in Spanish. In Part One, he reported that calls to the Los Angeles County Domestic Violence Hotline grew 43 percent in 2020-- to 9,507 from 5,401 in 2019 (Latinos comprise 48% of the county's population). But advocates believe that many Latina victims are reluctant to report abuse by a romantic partner because of language barriers and uncertainty about where they might find safety if they leave home. In addition, those who are undocumented fear deportation, and those without jobs fear losing economic security. In his second piece, he reported on how the increased use of telemedicine enabled many survivors of domestic violence to obtain counseling during the pandemic, although some were not able to benefit from it because their abusers were always nearby or they did not have computer access. In his third piece, he reported on the special challenges to undocumented victims by telling the story of Marcela Guzmán, an undocumented immigrant from Mexico who escaped from one physically and emotionally abusive relationship only to land with a controlling man who looked down on her and threatened to report her to immigration authorities so that she would be deported. Only after he tried to abduct her and she suffered a nervous breakdown did she learn about the special U-visa available to victims of domestic violence, which she eventually obtained. The U-visa immigration provides a work permit, some rights to public benefits and a path to citizenship for the victim and any minor children. You can find the English versions of his stories here.
Elena Kuznetsova produced a long-form piece and video for Slavic Sacramento on domestic violence in the immigrant Slavic community. Thousands of religious refugees from such countries of the former Soviet Union as Armenia, Belarus, Russia, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Moldova and Uzbekistan have settled in the Sacramento area, where over 80 Slavic Christian churches (mainly Baptist, Pentecostal, Charismatic and Adventist congregations) have become the centers of close-knit, conservative religious communities. Advocates told Elena that pastors often ignore incidents of domestic violence in their congregations and tell women that the Bible says: “Wives, obey your husbands as you obey the Lord” (Ephesians 5:22-24). Because many of the victims are women who don't speak English, they don't understand their rights or what resources are available that would enable them to escape the violence. "The women who spoke to us say they felt 'ashamed and shut-down' because they were told 'you are the one who is responsible for saving your husband,'" Elena wrote. "This conservative spiritual view is often complicated by a distrust of law enforcement or government authorities. Partially this is explained by a long history of persecution of the Christians in the USSR and their total distrust of the Soviet government, represented by the ruling Communist party." The Sacramento County Sheriff’s Department doesn't track the ethnicity of domestic violence victims, which advocates said is key to developing services that meet the needs of victims from particular cultures. In an accompanying video in Russian, Maiya Ossipova, an immigrant from Kazakhastan, tells her story of being married to -- and abused by -- her second husband, an immigrant from the former USSR who was a pastor in a Slavic Evangelical Church in Portland, Oregon.
Meera Kymal and Anjana Nagarajan-Butaney of India Currents and the Desi Collective reported "DesiDost-You’ve Got A Friend,"a culturally sensitive audio and text series on the dynamics of domestic abuse that can occur in South Asian families. Their hope is that their reporting will lead to reforms in international law and remove immigration status limits for spouses of visa holders that can lead to a little known phenomena called "transnational abandonment." Transnational abandonment is a form of domestic abuse in which immigrant women are abandoned in their country of origin by their husbands. With a supplemental community engagement grant and specialized mentoring from the Center, Meera and Anjana offered community storytelling workshops, which they called "Chai with Sahelis," for three women whose personal stories became the backbone of their reporting. With our support and mentorship, Meera and Anjana partnered with Narika, a domestic violence prevention non-profit, to run the workshops.
Meera's and Anjana's project includes two web pieces and three first-person audio pieces. In the first web article for India Currents, "How Priya Won a Second Chance at Her American Dream," Meera and Anjana explain how India's patriarchal society contributes to the growing problem of transnational abandonment. Marriages in India -- and even between many Indians living in the United States -- are often arranged by parents. If the husband's parents later decide that their son's wife isn't a good fit for him, as did Priya's in-laws, they can initiate divorce proceedings, which, if successful, can strip the wife of her right to live and work in the United States and sometimes cost her legal custody of her children. Advocates for South Asian survivors of domestic violence say that reports of both domestic abuse and transnational abandonment have skyrocketed during the pandemic. In connection with their project, Meera and Anjana conducted a survey of readers of India Currents, and more than half of the 55 respondents said they knew of women who had experienced domestic abuse, with almost 40% staying in their relationships due to family pressure to keep up appearances or fear of losing financial support and their children. With the help of lawyers from Asian Law Alliance, Priya this year got a UVisa – a visa given to non-citizens who have suffered mental or physical abuse due to domestic violence, sexual assault, or trafficking. “I’m a warrior,” Priya told them. “My core is strong.” She now works as a software engineer with a gaming company in the Bay Area.
In their second web piece, "How Anjali Got Her Son Back: A Story of Transnational Abandonment and Child Custody," Meera and Anjana wrote about the difficult situation in which Indian women in the United States on visas linked to their husbands can find themselves when their husbands divorce them. If they have children, the wives can lose custody, given their uncertain legal status. "A single misstep could result in lost immigration status, deportation and custody of their child, home and assets," they wrote. This story describes the personal plights of three Indian women, all survivors of spousal abuse, whose legal statuses were jeopardized by manipulative husbands. Anjali, the woman named in the headline, was in an arranged marriage with an abusive man. While on a visit to India in 2017 with their 9-year-old son, her husband abducted him, brought him back to the States and obtained a no-fault divorce and full custody. Under Indian law, the couple was still considered married, and Anjali filed a criminal complaint in India. With the divorce, Anjali lost her legal right to live in the United States, but she returned to fight for custody of her son. She was allowed only supervised visits for two years. Eventually, she received full custody after a court-appointed "reconnection therapist" found that her former husband had threatened their child with being sent to juvenile detention if he didn't shun his mother, and the former husband fled back to India to avoid criminal charges. Anjali and other Indian survivors of domestic violence would like the law changed so that the laws of the home country of foreign residents of the United States prevail in divorce and custody cases.
The participants in Meera's and Anjana's storytelling workshops produced a three-part series of recordings. In the first audio episode, "I'm a Warrior," Priya, a software engineer born in India who was also a key subject in the first web story, talks about her arranged marriage to an H1B visa holder working in Silicon Valley’s tech sector. He abused her throughout their first year of marriage and then abandoned her in India. She lost not only her home, her career and her confidence, but her H4 visa status. In the struggle to reinvent her life, Priya discovered resilience and purpose. In Episode Two of the audio series, "It’s Not Just A Thappad," we hear from Rennu Dillon, an outspoken advocate for women’s rights who arrived in the United States as a new bride almost 30 years ago, but soon discovered that she had married a violent man who was also a bigamist. Rennu fought to survive and won. Today Rennu is a successful entrepreneur and an outspoken advocate for women’s rights. In Episode 3, "Don’t Take My Child From Me," Anjali Kour shares her story (also recounted in Meera's and Anjana's second web piece). When she left her marriage because of domestic violence, she, too, lost her H4 visa, which cost her custody of her son. She fought in the U.S. family and immigration courts for years before winning back custody.
The California News Publishers Association gave Meera and Anjana two first place awards -- one for in-depth reporting (all media) and another for in-depth reporting (digital division) in its 2022 competition. The judge in the in-depth division (all media) wrote: Excellent research introduced readers to an issue that's deadly serious but little-known and reported in the mainstream press. That makes it stand out among other strong entries in in-depth reporting. The judge in the in-depth division (digital) wrote: The decision to tackle this fascinating and horrifying topic required such dedication and legwork. I am impressed with the commitment to this very powerful story that needed to be told. It's a true public service.
Meera and Anjana have been accepted as 2022 Impact Fund grantees so they can continue to cast a light on transnational abandonment, the children affected by it and advocates’ fight for legislation that would create relief for abandoned domestic violence survivors.
Viji Sundaram of San Francisco Public Press reported a three-part series on California’s coercive control law, which designates certain forms of nonviolent manipulation to be a form of domestic violence. In the first part of her series, she tells the story of Blanca, who endured more than two decades of psychological and financial abuse by her husband. Blanca said her husband forced her to pay rent; wouldn’t add her to his health insurance policy; emotionally abused her; and denigrated her for her Spanish-accent. Eventually, Blanca filed for divorce, but died before the proceeding was finalized. California passed legislation addressing coercive control in 2020, defining it as “a pattern of behavior that in purpose or effect unreasonably interferes with a person’s free will and personal liberty.” In California, if a court finds a person has committed coercive control, the petitioner can get a restraining order against the abuser in family court, Sundaram writes. But the law is only as good as its ability to be enforced through the courts, as Sundaram explains in the second part of her series. Domestic violence experts say that misogyny and judicial skepticism of victims are widespread throughout U.S. family court, “creating dangerous hurdles to justice,” Sundaram wrote. In one such example, a survivor demonstrated her husband exhibited a pattern of coercive control — even having his ex-girlfriend testify against him. The judge found the victim to not be credible, denying a protective order and writing in his judgment: “To this court, having a relationship as she’s portrayed it, and yet conceiving a child with him is inconsistent.” Educating judges how to apply the coercive control law will be the key to its success, Sundaram writes in the final installment of her series. In that piece, she details the first family court dispute in the state where lawyers claimed coercive control as a means to get their client a restraining order against her ex and custody of their child.
Ann Marie Cunningham, a journalist with the Mississippi Center for Investigative Reporting, is working on a series of articles about domestic violence in the South. For her first story, co-published in the Clarion Ledger, Magnolia State Live and Hattiesburg American, she observed four sessions of the trailblazing domestic violence court in Vicksburg, Mississippi, which she described as "the federal Violence Against Women Act in action." It's one of about 300 such courts nationwide and three in Mississippi and the only Mississippi court that is part of a coordinated citywide effort to combat domestic violence. The city patched together a federal grant and state and local monies to set up the Vicksburg Domestic Violence Victim Empowerment Program, which provides services to victims, almost all of whom are Black. Reports to police of domestic violence and arrests in Vicksburg have decreased significantly since the effort began in 2010.
Pooja Garg, city editor and community editor for Khabar, an Atlanta-based monthly print magazine and online outlet serving SouthAsians living in the United States, used her reporting grant and a supplemental community engagement grant to report a long-form piece and to conduct "Empowerment Project's Storytelling with Sakhi," which helped women who had experienced domestic violence write narratives about their experiences. In her own narrative piece, "When Home Is Not a Safe Haven," she explored the cultural context that enables domestic violence to flourish in India and in the South Asian immigrant community in the United States, as well as the vulnerabilities exacerbated by U.S. immigration laws and our legal system. The COVID-19 pandemic triggered an explosion in domestic violence, with a Houston nonprofit serving South Asian victims of violence reporting a 44% increase in distress calls and India reporting a 48% percent increase; according to UN Women, most countries saw a spike of more than 30% in reported cases, Pooja reported. "Domestic abuse has become so normalized in our community that according to India’s 2016 National Family Health Survey, more than 50 percent of Indian women believe that it is reasonable for a husband to beat his wife, and more than 40 percent of men agree with it," Pooja wrote. "The reasons could be if she doesn’t cook properly, neglects the house or children, argues, shows any disrespect towards in-laws, goes out without informing, refuses to have sex or is suspected of being unfaithful." Indian women in the United States are often here on spousal visas tied to their husbands' jobs, which complicates any decision to leave the marriage. A recent change in immigration policy has allowed women here on spousal visas to continue to work for two years after a divorce, with the possibility of renewal. Pooja's article includes an information kit to help readers understand more about domestic violence and how to help someone who is being abused. In the first survivor's story she published, Uma (a pseudonym) wrote about escalating behavior by her husband, like her an immigrant from India, which included emotional and physical violence and the withholding of financial support. Family members and friends advised her "not [to] do anything to make him angry, that I should try and maintain the peace of the house." When she developed Stage 3 breast cancer, he showed "callous disregard for me and my health." After 10 years of abuse, she called the police. "Facing mortality up close and personal made me finally break free of all my fears," she wrote. "I filed for divorce in the middle of my treatment and got a protective order. It was a difficult time, but curiously enough, I felt relieved. I was no longer scared in my own home." Free of fear for several years, she is now in a healthy relationship and runs a support group. "Helping others helps me heal," she wrote. "I want to help others who are in abusive situations, bring them hope and remove them from harm’s way. My message to anyone else facing extremely challenging circumstances: let that experience make you better. Let it bend you, but not break you. Hardship presents a unique opportunity for us to become a better version of ourselves." In the second survivor's story, This is Your Truth, Anjali Khambete (a pseudonym) draws attention to the legal difficulties of breaking free from an abuser if they have children. An engineer, she had come to the United States as a new bride and built a successful career in information technology. When she left her husband because of abuse, taking their two small children with her, she found that her relationship with him had to continue because of court-ordered visitation with the children. Court hearings left her frustrated, because her memory of events differed from his, and judges seemed to favor him. She argues that "having the knowledge of how memory works would put domestic violence victims in control... In all the messiness and danger of life after abuse, the domestic violence victim would be able to stand with their head held high, knowing the power of their truth. Their story would be weighed in the right light, the courage with which they made the final escape."
Cristina del Mar Quiles, a Puerto Rico-based freelance journalist, produced a two-part series for Centro de Periodismo Investigativo, a San Jose-based investigative news outlet, about fatal incidents of domestic violence in Puerto Rico. In her first piece, "The Children of Mothers Whose Children Were Taken Away by Machismo," she reported that at least 71 women have died from violence by partners or ex-partners -- a crime that Puerto Rico calls "intimate feminicide" — since Hurricane María hit the archipelago on September 20, 2017. These women left at least 101 children, an estimated 55 of them still minors, Cristina calculated. In addition, between 2018 and March 2021, 231 children were removed from their homes because of exposure to domestic violence -- further indication of the magnitude of the problem in the U.S. territory. Multiple studies have shown that disasters and their mismanagement by government authorities worsen the living conditions of the most vulnerable residents and increase the likelihood of domestic violence. Advocates for victims would like the Puerto Rican government to improve its data both on the number of domestic violence fatalities and the number of children who are secondary victims and to provide more supportive services to them. Children who face adverse childhood experiences, such as living in an environment of domestic violence or experiencing the loss of their mother because of femicide, may suffer long-term physical and mental health problems, such as heart disease and diabetes, experts told Cristina, In her second piece, "Mothers of Feminicide Victims Rescue Their Grandchildren," she reported on the toll of feminicide on Puerto Rican grandmothers, who often have to put aside their own grief over losing their daughters to raise their grandchildren, which is often a financial burden 44% of residents live below the poverty line. No public support exists in Puerto Rico for the grandmothers who raise these children, as opposed to the mainland United States, where children whose parents die receive support from the Social Security system. Cristina profiled a 46-year-old grandmother, Elba Santos, who spent six months trying to gain legal custory of her murdered daughters' three daughters, all the while struggling to help them with remote schooling during the pandemic, since the family home in Puerto Rico had no internet service. In July 2021, she moved them to Bridgeport, Connecticut, where they are attending a bilingual school, since they speak little English. Advocates for victims and their families would like Puerto Rico to establish a system of "comprehensive reparation" to provide continuing support to the children of femicide victims. Her stories were widely read, including by a special prosecutor appointed by the governor to investigate domestic violence and its impacts. That prosecutor said that in light of Cristina’s reporting, her committee would be discussing the possibility of reparations, such as paying university fees, for children who lost their mothers to femicide.
Anne Saker, a reporter for the Cincinnati Enquirer, reported a three-part series, "Beyond the Bruises," on intergenerational domestic violence and the effects on children. In Part 1, "Legacy of Domestic Violence Handed from One Generation to the Next," she and a team of colleagues analyzed court records to document that one in four perpetrators and victims had a family history of domestic violence, evidence of a strong intergenerational dynamic. In addition, of the 161 offenders in The Enquirer analysis, 44% -- or 71 -- had previous arrests for domestic violence. And 86% of the cases were dismissed because the survivor did not appear in court to testify against the offender, evidence of the strong hold that abusers have on their victims. In 21 cases, the alleged perpetrators were later arrested on new domestic violence charges. In Part 2, she wrote about an innovative police-social service partnership in Cincinnati that brings resources to survivors at the scene of domestic violence – the place and moment when survivors need help the most. In Part 3, she reported on efforts across the Cincinnati region and Northern Kentucky to help students end the cycle of relationship violence and identify red-flag behaviors against them. In a sidebar, Anne wrote about how adverse childhood experiences, such as witnessing domestic violence, can have long-term health effects. And a colleague, Quinlan Bentley, wrote a piece describing the Enquirer's methodology in determining whether persons accused of domestic violence had family histories of it. In a follow-up story about the disposition of a case she had reported on in her series, Anne reported on the sentencing of Marcus Reed to 15 years to life in prison for the April 2020 death of a woman he had dated, Patricia Woods, a mother of two young children. After the series ran, the Enquirer sponsored a Facebook Live conversation about how growing up in a household where domestic violence is occurring harms children. Anne's stories also ran in USA Today and the Courier-Tribune. Following the publication of Anne’s series, the advocacy organization Women Helping Women reported that they were inundated with calls to learn more about the police-social service partnership she wrote about. Her work was also incorporated into Ohio Domestic Violence Network’s training manuals for new advocates.