Amelia Schafer
ICT + Rapid City Journal
RAPID CITY, S.D. – In 1977, Norma Rendon, Oglala Lakota, had just left an abusive relationship that had escalated into an attempt to take her life. Her healing journey was complicated, inspiring her to lead a lifelong career helping other women who’d experienced what she had.
Nearly 85 percent of Indigenous women experience violence in their lifetime. A lack of jobs and housing leaves many financially dependent on their abuser. Despite experiencing disproportionate rates of violence, Indigenous women are less likely to have access to victim services. During Domestic Violence Awareness Month, several survivors and allies used their own grassroots efforts to raise awareness.
After moving to Minneapolis, Rendon said she hit a point where she asked her ex-partner to take her back. Her children wanted to go home, they wanted to sleep in their own beds. Exhausted and overwhelmed, Rendon called her ex and asked him to take her back. Luckily, Rendon said, he didn’t.
That night, trying to distract herself from her stress, Rendon attended a community powwow in Minneapolis. She heard shouting over the echoing drum beats, and when she investigated she saw a Native mother being abused by her husband.
Rendon had enough, she approached the couple and told the man to back off. In response, he threatened to hurt her. Not long after, several other Native women joined her and forced the man to leave. The group of women held each other and cried despite not knowing one another.
“I said, ‘I really need you girls, let’s start a young mother support group,’” Rendon said. “I was tired of domestic violence.”
From the young mother support group, Rendon moved on to working for full-fledged nonprofits. Now 40 years later, Rendon works for a nonprofit she founded, Where All Women Are Honored. The Rapid City-based program provides services to women experiencing domestic violence, sexual abuse, stalking and more.
October allows advocates across the nation to connect and shine a light on what thousands of people face every day. Indigenous advocates held several events and opportunities for education throughout the month. Shining a light on issues perpetuating domestic violence.
One of the main barriers, Rendon said, is a lack of accountability. Traditionally, abusers would be exiled from the community or at the bare minimum shamed.
“When a man gets put in jail for domestic violence, I can guarantee you a majority of the time his grandma’s gonna call us and be angry at us because we broke up her grandson’s family,” Rendon said. “In a kind way, I say, ‘I didn’t break them up. Your grandson broke them up when he started to hit his wife. Your grandson needs to accept responsibility for his actions.’”
Other advocates discussed similar issues facing their small, close-knit communities like those on the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota.
“I think it’s important for our communities to understand the importance of holding individuals accountable, one of the gaps that we see here is a lot of our people don’t understand that they can still love their family members and hold them accountable for their behavior,” said Letoy Lunderman, Oglala Lakota and executive director of the White Buffalo Calf Women’s Society.
Based on the Rosebud Reservation, the White Buffalo Calf Women’s Society is one of the oldest domestic violence shelters on any reservation. It was named after the story of the White Buffalo Calf Woman. The woman gave the Lakota people their sacred rights, ceremonies, spirituality and guidance. In her memory, the society provides ceremonies, guidance and empowerment to survivors.
Many involved in domestic violence advocacy are survivors themselves and rely on their experience. Working and living in a Native community are also advantages, as they build trust and provide insight into unique issues facing the community.
As the unemployment rate on reservations like Pine Ridge lingers at about 80 percent, it can often be extremely difficult for survivors to become financially independent. Many who return to their abuser do so out of codependency, said Susan Shangreux-Hudspeth, Oglala Lakota and director of Oglala Sioux Tribe Victim Services.
“We tell them if you go back we’re not going to judge you, just don’t forget about us. We’re always here,” Shangreux-Hudspeth said.
According to Working Against Violence, Inc., it can take between seven and nine attempts before survivors can finally leave their abuser.
“Abuse is all about power and control,” said Kristina Simmons, Working Against Violence development director. “Anything that reduces someone’s ability to make decisions without fear of retaliation. Anything that diminishes our ability to trust our own selves or to foster belief in ourselves.”
Abuse isn’t exclusive to reservations, though Native people are disproportionately affected. Over 87 percent of Indigenous people live off the reservation, emphasizing the importance of organizations such as Working Against Violence, a Rapid City-based non-Native program.
Of those who utilize the program, 70 percent are Native. Over the last nine months, the organization has seen a 45 percent increase in requests for service from rural areas.
Breaking cycles of abuse
Many organizations initially were created to provide shelter for those experiencing domestic abuse. Now they’ve evolved into offering prevention methods.
“Family violence is perpetuated, if we don’t address it and break the cycle it will continue.
Abused children are more likely to be in abusive relationships later in life. Young boys who have
been a part of domestic violence can become very angry and often perpetuate that abuse onto
their partners,” said Tanya Grassel-Krietlow, Lower Brule Lakota and program coordinator
for the South Dakota Network Against Family Violence and Sexual Assault.
The network is a state-level nonprofit agency that works to support member programs such as Norma Rendon’s Where All Women Are Honored.
During the boarding school era, parenting cycles and methods were disrupted and rewired,
Grassel-Krietlow said. Many survivors were left with only the memory of the abuse they endured while at school. As parents many survivors brought their boarding school trauma with them, negatively impacting the way they parented and creating a vicious cycle.
“When you start talking about like historical trauma and some of the things that a lot of our families deal with for generations, we do have one of the largest old boarding schools located here on the reservation (St. Francis Indian School),” Lunderman said. “There’s a lot of intergenerational trauma that factors into why our communities are the way they are with such high rates of violence.”
Many organizations also provide preventative services. Preventative services involve unlearning unhealthy ideas and behaviors, interrupting cycles of violence, new approaches to create healthy relationships and a recognition that survivors are always present.
Oglala Sioux Tribe victim services re-education specialist Milton Bianas, Oglala Lakota, works to rehabilitate offenders while also protecting their victims. While Bianas uses the Duluth Model primarily in his education, he also teaches through culture.
The Duluth Model approach takes the blame off the victim and focuses on accountability for the offender. The model attributes abuse to a pattern of action used to intentionally control or dominate an intimate partner and actively works to change societal norms that support the use of power and control. This often is done through court-ordered educational groups, which Bianas leads.
“Eighty percent of my teaching is the culture, I believe it’s who we are. The way other people think we should be taught in all reality is kind of foreign. It’s really hard for our people to grasp some of this curriculum, some of these concepts that are in there,” Bianas said.
While organizations work to combat domestic violence, there’s only so much they can do. Lack of funding for both law enforcement and victim services can leave large gaps in coverage.
Oglala Sioux Tribe victim services is made up of six advocates, only three of whom travel for cases. Victim services covers the entire 3 million-acre reservation.
Staying open or having a facility at all can also be an issue. When Sioux Sanatorium in Rapid City shut its doors, so did Rendon’s Rapid City shelter.
Right now, she’s focusing on victim outreach while also working with the NDN Collective to establish a new shelter. Rendon had been hoping to establish a new shelter before winter set in but is now hoping for summer 2024.
“We currently do not have enough services to help our relatives address the current issues
surrounding family violence. Our relatives continue to experience one trauma after another,
layering on top of that historical trauma,” Grassel-Krietlow said.
Lack of law enforcement
As tribes such as the Oglala Lakota pursue legal action against the United States for a lack of law enforcement resources, domestic violence victims are left waiting hours for help that sometimes never arrives.
“I can personally say I have seen instances where someone needs help from law enforcement and they don’t show up because they need to prioritize. It’s a sad situation but it happens,” said Amanda Takes War Bonnett, Oglala Lakota and public education specialist for the Native Women’s Society of the Great Plains.
The Native Women’s Society of the Great Plains works to connect domestic violence resources from across the northern plains. The network includes the White Buffalo Calf Woman Society, Oglala Sioux Tribe Victim Services and dozens of others.
Takes War Bonnett remembered a situation where a woman experiencing domestic violence worked up the courage to call for help, only for an officer to never show up. Takes War Bonnett delivered the woman’s statement to the courthouse, but no one could take it.
“They’re going to feel like they can’t get help,” Takes War Bonnett said.
In the 2022 lawsuit against the United States, the Oglala Sioux Tribe identified 1,463 domestic violence-related calls for service made in the past year.
In the wake of law enforcement issues, many advocates are left to assist victims, putting them in unsafe situations.
Shangreux-Hudspeth said she has been chased by abusers after picking up survivors. She’s also been threatened with violence after cases.
“Someone could do anything to us, but our love to help keeps us going,” she said. “It’s because we love the job, we do what we have to do.”
Advocates work long hours and are sometimes called in to help in the middle of the night, but they keep coming back every day.
“It’s not a high-paying job, and it’s dangerous sometimes, but it’s worth it in the end,” said Jackie Ice, an Oglala Lakota citizen and an OST victim services advocate.
The road to healing
Leaving a dangerous situation isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning of a long road to healing. Finding the proper route to healing can be complex. Each victim brings a unique history to the program they attend and has unique needs.
“Our programs and advocates must meet the victim where they are in terms of healing, programming, culture and other support services,” Grassel-Krietlow said. “I am proud of our programs that are rooted in culture and I am equally proud of our programs who have learned about culture and have taken steps to ensure our victims have access to medicines, Native American advocates, and partnered with other programs who are culturally based.”
The complexity of experiences means it is important to have a range of different programs, healing opportunities and resources available, Grassel-Krietlow said.
“It’s not me solely deciding what’s going to heal the victim. Utilizing a care team or a multidisciplinary team is important when working with someone. Taking the time to complete a good intake, and identify what the needs are,” Grassel-Krietlow said. “Learning about generational trauma, patterns of violence, and abusive relationships while learning about cultural values could be exactly what our relative needs to heal.”
Support can come in the form of transportation, legal assistance, housing, short-term shelter, rental assistance and more. All organizations strive to provide these resources to survivors.
It’s also important to be supportive and make survivors feel heard even if you aren’t an advocate, said Linda Shroll, executive director of Women Against Violence, Inc.
“Whether it’s a family, friend or colleague, we all know someone who’s been affected,” Shroll said. “This isn’t a me issue, it’s a we issue.”
In the nearly 40 years since Rendon started her advocacy journey, not much has changed, she said. She still finds herself pushing for change, but she’s not alone. Rendon has worked with dozens of organizations including Oglala Sioux Tribe Victim Services to help them establish secure shelters, grant donations and more.
A majority of shelters and advocacy organizations heavily rely on grants and donations, which all shelters welcome and encourage. Many survivors arrive at shelters with nothing or just a garbage bag full of clothing, Women Against Violence representatives said.
What Rendon would like to see, she said, is the community to come together and support victims.
“We used to police our own people. In Minneapolis we started a phone tree and I could call whoever was on the list to watch the children while we’d go get another woman out of their dangerous home,” Rendon said.
Everyone needs to be on board to make a difference.
“We can’t change this violence against women without the men. They have got to be an integral part of stopping the violence,” Rendon said.
Anyone experiencing domestic violence can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-7233 or text “START” to 88788.
This story is co-published by the Rapid City Journal and ICT, a news partnership that covers Indigenous communities in the South Dakota area.
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