For Three Decades, 'Remember My Name' Has Memorialized Those Lost to Domestic Violence (trigger warning)
For Three Decades, ‘Remember My Name’ Has Memorialized Those Lost to Domestic Violence (trigger warning)
PUBLISHED 10/23/2024 by Ruth M. Glenn
11,178. That’s how many women, men and children are memorialized by Remember My Name, a national registry of people whose lives ended because of domestic violence. Each name represents a unique individual and yet, these cases all share something in common: systems and policies that failed to protect them from the one causing them harm and ultimately taking their life.
Millions of people experience domestic violence each year. These failures can be the difference between life or death, not only for people experiencing abuse, but for their families, friends, neighbors, co-workers and first responders who are also vulnerable to the impacts of domestic violence in their communities. For too long, domestic violence has been treated as an individual or private matter, rather than a systemic problem and a public health crisis—making it difficult for people to reach out for support and when they do an under-funded response means services are overwhelmed with demand. Enough is enough. It’s time to get loud about domestic violence and ensure everyone understands the scale of this crisis and how it impacts everyone’s lives—not just those directly affected..
Created in 1994, the Remember My Name project continues to raise awareness of individuals who have died from domestic violence.
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Before these landmark moments, domestic violence was seldom spoken about—in fact, we had a long history of social and legal systems that ignored domestic violence and in some cases, even justified it. There was little research into domestic violence and limited recourse for victims and survivors. Support services were grassroots and often operated from kitchen tables and living rooms; women coming to the aid of other women in their communities. Remember My Name helped make the invisible, visible. When The Hotline and NCADV merged in 2021, we knew Remember My Name would be a critical part of our ongoing work. These names and stories have been collected since 1994, but some go back as far as 1930. While we cannot reach back through time to all the people who have lost their lives because of domestic violence, we can make sure we honor their lives. We can make sure their surviving loved ones know that we see them, and that we are committed to a future where people can live free from abuse. And we can work to do better so that no one else has to lose their lives to domestic violence.
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And yet, without a clear and standardized data collection of the lethal consequences of domestic violence, we cannot get a full sense of the overarching barriers and risk factors victims are experiencing. While the circumstances of each case vary, together they tell a broader story about the epidemic of domestic violence, and what we need to do to end it. We know from both local and national data sources that victims are disproportionately women—especially Black and Indigenous women. We also know that firearms are the most common weapon used. In fact, the mere presence of a gun makes it five times more likely that a domestic violence dispute will end in a fatality. And what’s worse is that leaving an abusive relationship is also the most dangerous time for a survivor: Seventy-seven percent of domestic violence-related homicides occur after a separation, and there is a 75 percent increase in violence following the separation for at least two years.
We owe it to those who have died because of domestic violence, to every survivor and every person actively planning for their safety, to do better. As we near the end of Domestic Violence Awareness Month and reflect on the 30 years since Remember My Name launched, we invite all those who read this to join us not only in remembering the people who have died because of domestic violence, but to join us in saying their names. Loudly. Often. We need people to hear their stories, demand better tracking and reporting at all levels to fully understand this crisis, and work towards a day where we can stop adding names to the list. If you have lost a loved one because of domestic violence, submit their information here (https://www.emailmeform.com/builder/form/e8m0fM6db7hNbcr49IBR7) to be included in the Remember My Name registry.
https://msmagazine.com/2024/10/23/domestic-violence-death/
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On our wedding night he said, "I'm the man and I can do whatever I want." He restrained me and I spent the night on the floor while he slept in the bed above me. It progressively got worse.
Calling the police when he hurt me, broke things, punched holes in the walls, etc. only made things worse for me.
There was no support of any kind from the community and especially not from law enforcement then.
It was the days when the only intervention was to blame the woman because she provoked the violence.
I cried all the way to work every day and all the way home every night. Soon I started to formulate my plan. I knew I had to leave. I believed he was going to kill me.
Even after I escaped, moved hours away he somehow found me. He beat my car with a golf club, camped out in the hallway outside my apartment, called me and had his friends calling me all hours of the day and night leaving me answering machine messages telling me how worthless I was and how he was going to hurt me.
He jeopardized my job. Destroyed my front door and almost got me evicted. Ran up thousands of dollars on credit cards he took out in my name and never paid a payment ruining my credit. I could go on. Some of the things were so horrible that I don't want to remember them. There were bruises and broken bones.
There was no help. No shelters. No support groups. Somehow I figured it out and got away. I had made it out in less than a year.
I'm very thankful that I survived.
I am one of the lucky ones.
❤️
