Every time María (fictitious name to protect her identity) gave birth, the father of her children threatened to kill her.

“I was with my (first) baby, I had left the hospital three days prior and I was breast feeding,” remembers María while crying. “The father of my children had a knife and he put it on my neck and when he grabbed my arm, I couldn’t move anywhere.”

Maria left her house several times, but she always returned to him. She had three children with her abuser.

“He convinced me to return and I would get pregnant, and every pregnancy was the same… it was his intention to end my life,” said María, 40.

This violence occurred in the United States, where Maria thought she would to find a better life.

In her native Jalisco, Mexico, she left behind economic problems, an estranged relationship with her parents and a 3-year-old daughter.

“I didn’t have another way out except to come here,” she said. “But instead of finding an exit, I (almost) found my grave here.”

In the U.S. María felt isolated and alone. She was undocumented and thought she couldn’t escape her abusive relationship for fear of being deported, or worse.

In her eyes, the violence became routine. “It was always the main course, that if I left him, I’d be without my children and he would kill my daughter in Mexico,” María said.

After an incident in which her boyfriend hit and kicked her, one of her children called the police. That was the last time he hurt her.

María went to live in a shelter with her kids and looked for help. For aiding the police in a criminal investigation, she qualified for the U Visa, a special visa for undocumented victims of crimes (including domestic violence). Today, she is petitioning to obtain her permanent residency and lives with her kids in an apartment in East Los Angeles.

Listen to and read (in Spanish) María’s full story here at El Nuevo Sol.

María is one of the 10,000 immigrants who are affected by domestic violence and other crimes each year who have qualified for the U Visa since its passage in 2007.

There are two laws that help undocumented people who suffer domestic violence. A victim of abuse, like María, could qualify for the U Visa if he or she helps law enforcement in an investigation or judicial process of the person who committed the crime (María’s boyfriend, in her case).

Similarly, some provisions of the Violence Against Women Act make it possible for victims who are married to their abusers who are residents or citizens to apply for residency without the knowledge of their spouse.

Aside from qualifying for legal status, these laws also make it possible for victims of abuse to become independent of their abusers.

The U Visa was created by the of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act of 2000, when Maria applied, but it wasn’t until 2007 that the U.S. Citizen and Immigration Services added the regulations of the U Visa. To qualify, victims of domestic violence or sexual abuse don’t need to be married and the crime has to have occurred in the U.S.

Once the victim has obtained the U Visa, he or she can qualify for public and financial services, and can obtain a work permit. After a victim has had U Visa status for three years, he or she can qualify for residency status. Maria is in the process of applying for permanent residency.

Gina Amato Lough, an attorney with Public Counsel in Los Angeles, and who helped Maria and many others in her situation, said that although these cases can be tedious, her clients are patient and hopeful.

“I tell them, this is a long road,” said Amato Lough, who handles around 250 cases, the majority dealing with domestic violence. “I think they are disappointed but they understand that the system is messed up and it’s not an easy process.”

According to a study published in the Georgetown Journal on Poverty Law and Policy, married immigrant women experience higher levels of physical and sexual abuse than unmarried immigrant women, 59.5 percent compared to 49.8 percent.

Furthermore, 48 percent of Latinas reported that their partner’s violence against them had increased since they immigrated to the U.S.

Amato Lough believes that violence among immigrants has to do with culture.

“I think that women aren’t respected in a lot of cultures and a lot of the men really feel that they have the right to exercise ownership over their partner.”

Leni Marin, vice president of Family Violence Prevention Fund, doesn’t agree. For her, violence does not discriminate against immigration status or race.

There’s this perception that there is more violence among the immigrant community, but it is pervasive across race, class, economic status,” Marin explained. “What I can say is that there are unique barriers that immigrants face, language and culture.”

Marin said that in her line of work, she had heard plenty of stories of abused immigrant women, but at the time FVPF could not help them because of their immigrant status.

“They were getting turned away because we didn’t have anyone who could speak Farsi or Urdu or Tagalog or Spanish,” Leni said. “These women were kept in the dark with their legal rights.”
With the help of various organizations, Marin helped pass VAWA.

VAWA passed in 1994, but the provisions for helping immigrant victims were not incorporated until 2000. Under VAWA victims who are married or are children of a resident or a citizen who has abused them can legalize their status without the help of their abuser. Like the U Visa, a person qualifies for VAWA if the abuse occurred in the U.S. but that person doesn’t have to report the crime. If someone qualifies for VAWA, they also have access to public services, but that doesn’t indicate a change in legal status.

The process to qualify for permanent residency depends on the status of the victim and their home country.

Juanita (fictitious name) suffered blows and abuse from her husband for almost 35 years. Her husband, a U.S. resident, threatened her and Juanita was convinced he wanted to kill her.

“He said that if one day I cheated on him, it was certain death,” Juanita, 53, of Guadalajara, Mexico said. “He would tell me, ‘if you cheat on me one day, when I find you, I will cut you into little pieces.’”

The threats were constant, Juanita said.

Once time her husband told her, “One day, when your kids come home, they will find you hanging from the ceiling.”

Juanita, who has six children, said that her husband tried to kill her when they went to look for work in Colorado.

Her husband started chasing her around a frozen river and hit her over the head. The man didn’t stop until he heard his nephew’s voice in the distance.

Juanita put up with her husband’s abuse because that’s what she thought a marriage consisted of. But last October, she could not put with it anymore and she decided to leave her home with two of her children.

This reaction is common among victims of domestic violence. Amato Lough, the attorney with Public Counsel, said that a person leaves her abuser an average of seven times before she can actually accomplish it.

“There is always a breaking point, where they just say ‘enough is enough,’” Amato Lough said. “In my experience it would be that the abuser got close to killing them or injured one of the kids in front of her and it was just the last straw.”

With the help of friends, Juanita and her children managed to get out. After a complication with a petition that her husband had filed, Juanita turned in her own application and qualified for VAWA and a restraining order. Today she qualifies for permanent residency.

Listen to and read (in Spanish) Juanita’s full story here at El Nuevo Sol.

Death threats aren’t the only reason why a person might remain in an abusive relationship for years. Abusers use different techniques to trap their victims in an endless cycle of physical emotional and sexual violence. These tactics include: control of funds, family and social isolation, threats to use immigrant status against her and separate a mother from her children.

It is no accident that victims of abuse live in fear and shame.

“It’s fear mixed with stigma and shame and a whole slew of other emotional factors that come into play,” said Marin of FVPF. “If someone banishes a gun or a knife in front of you all the time, you are already fearful. Batterers and perpetrators do that to torment the victim.”

Immigrant children of abusers also qualify for VAWA. Francisco (fictitious name), 21, has recently become a permanent resident through VAWA. He and his mother were abused by his father when Francisco was 3 years old. Although he returned to his native El Salvador, he returned to live with his mother in Downtown Los Angeles when he was 17. He qualified for VAWA because of the abuse he suffered as a child.

“He always hurt my mother,” Francisco said. “He would get home drunk and insult everyone and he never really got along with her. I felt impotent because I was little and I couldn’t do anything.”

Francisco is going to school to get his GED and is also working to help out his mother.

Listen to and read (in Spanish) Francisco’s full story here at El Nuevo Sol.

Like Francisco, Juanita and Maria are also taking English classes. They have overcome so many barriers and still have many goals to accomplish.

“It feels like a dream and I am still dreaming,” Maria said about having broken out of her abusive relationship. She said she feels like a new person. Once she has her permanent residency, she wants to visit her daughter and mother in Mexico.

“When I started to see the light differently and taking off the chains of slavery, I felt like myself, now I am Maria,” she said. “Before I felt like a caged bird, I wanted to fly… but now I don’t feel like my wings are broken, now I feel strong, like I can fly.”