Domestic violence survivors face new fears as threats of deportation rise | Opinion

It’s been 10 years since my separation, seven years since I filed my first restraining order, five years since my second and just two months since my third was approved.

Back then, I was a teacher and a city council member. I was married to someone with an even higher profile. I wasn’t the woman most people picture when they think of domestic violence, and that’s exactly the point: Abuse doesn’t care about title, education or public profile.

I minimize that time in my life often, but I carry the trauma forever. I carry my restraining order like a shield made of tissue paper — well-intentioned, but too often useless under real pressure. Even as a state senator, I’m afraid and constantly on alert. That kind of fear never fully leaves you.

And that’s why I fight. Because I’ve lived it and I know that when survivors speak up, it’s not just brave. It can be dangerous. Every month, more than 70 women in the U.S. are shot and killed by an intimate partner, according to Everytown for Gun Safety.

Lately, I’ve been hearing more and more stories from shelters, advocates and victims about a new form of fear that’s taking hold — not just fear of an abuser, but fear of deportation. For many immigrant women, leaving an abusive partner now means risking not just their safety, but being torn away from their children and the only home they’ve ever known.

According to shelter staff quoted in a recent CBS News investigation, threats to “call ICE” are now one of the fastest-growing weapons abusers use to keep their victims silent.

During the pandemic, we saw what happened when victims were trapped at home with their abusers. We called it “the pandemic within the pandemic.” But now, fear of immigration enforcement is creating another invisible lock down. Victims are skipping court hearings, and shelters are seeing women disappear because the consequences of seeking help feel even more terrifying.

Abusers know how to weaponize immigration status — withholding documents, threatening deportation and using fear as another form of coercive control. And what’s even more disturbing is that, sometimes, the system helps them do it.

When immigration agents show up at domestic violence shelters, it sends a chilling message: The system is not on the side of survivors. It tells victims that we don’t care about their safety; we care more about papers than lives.

The fear hits before they ever walk through the door. They’ve seen what happens during a raid: people are vanishing, families are torn apart and children are left behind. When that fear keeps victims from walking through the doors of these safe spaces, we’ve already failed them.

That’s why I authored Senate Bill 841, the Keep Safe Spaces Safe Act. The bill makes it clear that immigration agents can’t enter private areas inside domestic violence shelters, rape crisis centers, human trafficking support centers or homeless shelters unless they have a judicial warrant.

SB 841 doesn’t ban enforcement. It doesn’t rewrite federal policy. It simply says that if you want to enter a place where someone is trying to feel safe for the first time in years, bring a warrant.

A system that fails to stand with survivors stands with abusers. It sends the clearest possible signal that safety is conditional and that justice is not for everyone. Whether we admit it or not, government complicity gives abusers power — it validates the threats, and it reinforces the control.

As lawmakers, we have an obligation to fix this. Our laws should protect victims, not trap them in silence. Survivors should not have to choose between another beating and possible deportation. That is not just a moral failure, it’s a public safety crisis.

This isn’t just about policy. This is about all of us. I urge every community member to be vigilant. If you suspect someone is in danger — at your church, your school or your job — don’t look away. You might be their only lifeline.

Every instance of domestic violence is a possible homicide. We cannot afford to treat this as someone else’s problem. We must keep safe spaces safe.