What 11 Women Taught Me About Gender-Based Violence & the Systems That Failed Them

Gender-based violence against women is not an isolated issue in the Dominican Republic, nor in Latin America more broadly. It is a reality, normalized by machismo and reinforced by fragmented systems meant to protect.

In 2020, I spoke in depth with 11 women whose lives had been profoundly affected by gender-based violence. I did not approach these conversations as a legal expert or clinician. I approached them as a design researcher trained in human-centered design, listening closely to lived experiences, behaviors, barriers, and moments of breakdown across their journeys toward safety and justice.

What emerged were not just personal stories, but patterns. Repeated obstacles. Systemic failures that forced these women to shoulder the burden of justice themselves, often at great personal risk.

These are the 11 things they told me they needed.

1 | I need to be heard, so I can be understood.

For many women, the first barrier to safety is disbelief. When authorities doubt their accounts, minimize urgency, or confuse them with other cases, women are forced to advocate for their own credibility in moments of extreme danger. Over time, this erodes trust and discourages reporting altogether.

“I called 911; they told me they had already received this call. My neighbor had gone through domestic violence. I had to clarify that I wasn’t the same person. I had to convince them that I was me—that they were going to let me die.” — Martha

2 | I need accessible information on who can help and where to go, without my aggressor knowing.

Women often make the decision to seek help in secrecy and under time pressure. Yet critical information, where to go, which office handles GBV cases, what services exist, and how to access them discreetly, is fragmented, unclear, or unavailable until it’s too late.

“We went to multiple Prosecutor Offices. We didn’t know which one we were supposed to go to. When I got there, they told me I needed to go to another one. A taxi driver finally told us where to go.” — Josefa

3 | I need economic support to reach aid facilities, especially for recurring care.

Even when services exist, transportation costs quietly exclude women from sustained care. Psychological and legal support often require repeated visits, yet no structural support exists to offset the financial burden of simply showing up.

“I used to take a water bottle with me, and that’s all I would consume all day—because it was either money for transport or money for food.” — Tamara

4 | I need to feel prioritized and treated with empath, from the moment I walk in.

The first point of contact, security guards, receptionists, administrative staff, can determine whether a woman continues seeking help or leaves. When empathy is absent, the system unintentionally reinforces shame, fear, and self-doubt.

“The security man at the entrance had a very displeasing attitude. He verbally abused people. He shouldn’t be allowed to treat users that way.” — Alma

5 | I need to feel safe inside the institutions meant to protect me.

Some women reported witnessing violence within prosecutor offices themselves. These moments signal that even formal institutions cannot guarantee safety, undermining their legitimacy as places of refuge.

“I saw a man arrive and hurt a woman right there. The police came, but they let him go. I sat there wondering if this could happen to me too.” — Crystal

6 | I need to trust that authorities have my best interest, and will follow through.

Long waits, impersonal processes, lack of continuity, and minimal follow-up shift the burden of justice onto women who are already traumatized. When systems lack coordination, women are expected to manage complexity they did not create.

“I spent 12 hours in the Prosecutor’s Office. When it was finally my turn, the psychologist had left. I had to come back the next day. My kids were alone at home.” — Yokasta

7 | I need arrest warrants that are processed and enforced in time.

Delays, negligence, and corruption in the execution of arrest warrants turn one of the strongest legal protections into a false promise—often escalating risk rather than reducing it.

“They made me believe he was locked up. That same night, they freed him. I thought I was safe.” — Emelissa

8 | I need restraining orders that actually protect me.

Restraining orders are frequently violated without investigation or consequence. Without monitoring or enforcement, these orders offer psychological reassurance but little physical protection.

“He moved across the street. He’s still there. The police haven’t done anything.” — Emma

9 | I need to not risk my life by serving my aggressor legal documents.

In some cases, women are expected to personally deliver citations or restraining orders, or pay others to do so, placing them directly in harm’s way. This practice prioritizes procedure over safety.

“When you issue a complaint, you have to hand it to the aggressor yourself. That’s dangerous.” — Idalme

10 | I need free legal assistance to leave my aggressor.

Legal representation often determines whether a woman can separate assets, secure custody, or safely leave her home. Without free legal aid, many women remain trapped, not by choice, but by cost.

“I wanted to never see his face again. Instead, I have to live with him.” — Jimena

11 | I need people around me to recognize the signs of violence—when I can’t act myself.

Not all cases reach justice through the women alone. Schools, workplaces, neighbors, and institutions often intervene when women are unable or unsafe to do so. Without public awareness, many cases remain invisible.

“The school helped me. They took my case, and I got my daughter back.” — Ana

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Closing Reflection

These needs are not individual failures, they are signals of systemic breakdowns. Together, they reveal how justice systems unintentionally ask women to be resilient, persistent, and resourceful in moments when safety should be guaranteed.

Listening to these women reframed my understanding of justice—not as a single institution, but as an experience shaped across touchpoints, timelines, and human interactions.

If systems are not designed to meet people at their most vulnerable moments, they do not fail equally. They fail those who need them most.

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If you or someone you know needs help:

911 – Emergency Cases

*212 Línea Mujer

809-200-1220 Línea Vida

809-200-9373 Línea Llama y Vive

Disclosure: For privacy and security, all names have been changed.