The federal government cut funding for domestic violence shelters. Rural agencies have suffered

Johnson and her staff have driven across the desolate plains of northeastern Colorado meeting domestic violence victims. They’ll help survivors from anywhere in the United States, but most domestic violence survivors they serve live in the six counties making up the Eastern Plains.The counties span  the breadth east of the Front Range to the Nebraska border. 

Help for Abused Partners, where Johnson is in her 19th year as executive director, employs four staff members. Though Johnson wishes they didn’t have to, she and her staff members have each had to venture into different parts of the plains to meet survivors at gas stations or churches and transport them to a safe, anonymous location.

“Sometimes we do drive out in the middle of the night and meet people who are in crisis,” Johnson said. “Needless to say, one of our largest budget items is mileage.”

Johnson said the agency will have its funding cut by 25% in 2025. Her four staff members and five board members are scrambling to maintain their levels of support with a fluctuating case load. Johnson and the board are determined not to cut employees from an already-skeletal crew.

“We’ll cut hours, programs and other services before we cut staff,” Johnson said. “That’s what we’ll do if we have to, but we will not cut staff.”

Johnson has also vowed not to cut the agency’s 24/7 crisis line, which is monitored between staff and volunteers. 

Logan County’s only shelter for victims can hold up to 12 women and children. If the shelter is full or a male survivor needs shelter, Help for Abused Partners has a deal with local motels to house survivors for a few weeks at a discounted rate. 

But the 25% funding cut next year could mean that even discounted motel rooms are out of reach.

“We’re just writing a ton of grants as fast as we can,” Johnson said. “We don’t have another choice.”

Though funding has decreased, the number of survivors needing help has not. Domestic violence cases increased nationwide during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. Advocates in rural parts of Colorado said their caseloads have not slowed down since.

“The other thing we’re seeing is a lot of cases where there’s mutual abuse,” said Brooke Leonard, executive director of the Arkansas Valley Resource Center, which serves Bent, Crowley and Ottero Counties. 

“It’s not just the females being abused, the females are sometimes just as abusive or more as abusive than the men. And we see this in the LGBTQ community as well,” Leonard said.

The Arkansas Valley Resource Center will receive a 28% cut from its 2025 VOCA funds. Leonard said the timing is particularly harrowing, as she believes the culture and conversations around domestic violence have taken a dark turn. Leonard believes rampant cyberbullying and toxicity on social media have normalized violence.

“I’m very concerned about our young children and the things they’re saying and doing to each other,” Leonard said. “Fifteen years ago, we were talking about [bullying] and people knew it was wrong. Now everybody does this and talks like that.”

Leonard said the AVRC sees about 600 new clients each year in addition to pre-existing client caseloads with six staff members to serve them. In addition to a crisis hotline and emergency shelter, the agency has advocates that support victims in their interactions with law enforcement.

Most of the center’s funding for its law enforcement advocates comes from VOCA. Leonard knows having a support system in place for often-intimidating interactions with police is essential, but she fears funding cuts could hurt the program. If the agency had to make cuts, the law enforcement team would be hit first, she said.

“With these cuts, we’re going to have to look at where we can cut costs, and it’s going to affect the services we provide,” Leonard said. 

“Our board has stressed that keeping staff on is our primary focus. And so, losing staff would be the last thing that we do, and we will do everything we can to prevent it,” Leonard added. “But, you know, we may get to a point where we can't prevent that.”

Leonard spent the last several years trying to hire more staff to keep up with a growing caseload and as more people seek the center’s services every year, Leonard knows her six employees can’t shoulder the burden of caring for all of them.

“We had worked our way up to six people and we were hoping to add more in the next couple of years,” Leonard said. “And unfortunately now we're just hoping to hang on to what we have and hope that we don't lose more.”

The resource center’s three-county area covers about 3,000 square miles and 100,000 people across southeastern Colorado. 

All six staff members spend the majority of their time in the agency’s flagship office in La Junta, though the agency also has a satellite office in Ordway, which is open once a week.

“One of the issues with covering such a big area with a small staff is that sometimes I have a staff member out all day just traveling trying to meet with victims,” Leonard said.

Theresa Ortega and her team of nine are spread thin between the six counties and 46,000 residents that make up the San Luis Valley. The team at Tu Casa Inc.,  where Ortega works as the executive director, has a fluctuating caseload that requires travel across the vast valley to serve survivors.

The agency works with law enforcement, operates an emergency shelter and visits survivors across the 8,000-square mile range of southern Colorado. 

In 2025, the agency is set to lose nearly a quarter of its funding, which is primarily sourced from the VOCA program. 

Although VOCA accounts for just one-fourth of the agency's overall budget, it is almost entirely dedicated to staff salaries. And like many other agency leaders, Ortega is determined to cut anything necessary before considering staff layoffs.

While funding is cut, Ortega said caseload has increased. She could not provide an exact number on how many more survivors the agency has seen year-over-year, but said an uptick in homelessness and drug usage in the valley has coincided with increased violence.

“A lot of the people that come through our doors can't put their need for the substance they’re using behind their need for safety,” Ortega said. 

“You can put them in a shelter for a day or two, but then they’re going back to the perpetrator because the perpetrator is connected to the substance,” she said.

Ortega and her team feel as if they’re spinning their wheels, stuck in place as the cycle repeats itself: they spend months helping a survivor escape an abuser, only to watch them return, driven back by their substance addiction.

“Short of training ourselves to be addiction counselors, I’m not really sure how effective we’re being at times,” Ortega said. “There are huge hurdles that we're trying to figure out how to get over.”

Ortega emphasized Tu Casa will help any survivor, regardless of sobriety status, but those who are actively intoxicated cannot consent to staying overnight in the organization’s emergency shelter.  

Providing meaningful support comes with more difficulties when a survivor’s abuser is also their dealer.

“We won’t push, even when we want to,” Ortega said. “We just have to accept what they're willing to do.”

Staff at Hilltop Latimer House in Grand Junction are grappling with how they’ll continue relocating survivors across the Western Slope as they brace for a $100,000 cut in VOCA funding slated for 2025.

Hilltop Latimer House serves Mesa, Montrose, Delta and Ouray Counties, all of which are experiencing population growth and rising housing costs. 

Most of the VOCA funds previously received were dedicated to helping survivors find new homes across the region. Now, with dwindling resources and soaring expenses, both staff and survivors find themselves in a dilemma. 

“Having those funds cut is incredibly detrimental for people who are just trying to survive,” said Kal Greenman-Baird, Latimer House program manager. “It is detrimental to have those funds removed while people are trying to obtain sustainable housing for them and potentially for their kids.”

Ortega emphasized her gratitude for communities stepping in to try and fill the holes left by VOCA cuts. Community members have donated time, money and resources, which directors of the agencies said are crucial.

“We really do rely on friends, foundation grants and fundraising,” Ortega said. “Nothing that we do is actually free.”