Intimate Partner Homicide Prevention Among Latinas: A Qualitative Study of Risk and Protective Factors

Methodological Challenges to Understanding IPH Among Latinas

Disaggregated data on IPH among Latinas is limited and few studies provide a granular, intersectional look at IPV experienced by Latinas. Challenges around potential underreporting of IPH and IPV among women of color are not new. For instance, im/migrant and mixed documentation families face language and cultural barriers to obtaining evidence for protective legal actions (Crenshaw, 1991). Ethnicity data is not always available or reported alongside fatality data, though in some cases, ethnicity can be determined postmortem by referencing news media and death certificates to infer ethnic identity (Azziz-Baumgartner et al., 2011). Within Latino or Hispanic research samples, data on indigenous Latina identity is often missing (Casanova et al., 2016; Messing et al., 2022). Indigenous groups from Mexico alone reflect over 85 distinct languages, and research suggests these groups experience unique stressors, such as intra-group discrimination (Casanova et al., 2016).

Similar methodological and legal system issues limit the available data on transgender Latina homicides. First, estimates show that more than a third of homicides involving a transgender victim remain unsolved and therefore, too little information is available on the perpetrator (Insider Investigations Team, 2022). Secondly, how “intimate partner” is defined and measured may influence how many transgender homicides are coded as IPH or hate crimes. A broad definition of intimate partner may include relationships that develop between clients and sex workers. Despite these challenges, the sentiment that IPV-related homicides dominate killings of transgender women is consistent with both the high rates of IPV and homicides in transgender communities (Allen, 2019; Dinno, 2017; Mark & Beckler, 2022). In a study with a sample of over 28,000 transgender people living in the US, researchers found that 54% had experienced IPV within their lifetime (James et al., 2016).

Risk Factors at the Family, Community, and Macro Levels

At the individual-level, research with the National Violent Death Registry System (NVDRS) showed that a greater proportion of Latinas die by homicide at a younger age compared to non-Hispanic U.S.-born women (Petrosky et al., 2017). At the relationship-level, Latinas experience higher risk for homicide following recent conflict, jealousy, separation, divorce, and/or custody conflict (Petrosky et al., 2017; Stansfield et al., 2021). Across ethnic groups, a history of non-lethal partner violence, threats, and controlling behaviors have all been associated with IPH risk (Campbell et al., 2003; Orozco, 2017).

Research with the NVDRS has demonstrated that at the community-level, state-level IPV policy (e.g., mandatory arrests), licensed firearm dealer availability, and county divorce rates were related to IPH in a Hispanic sample (Stansfield et al., 2021). In the same study, rurality, and economic disadvantage (a combined measure of poverty, use of public assistance, female-headed households, and education) did not increase the risk of IPH in Hispanic samples, despite being significant predictor variables of IPH among non-Hispanic White and Black participants (Stansfield et al., 2021). More research is needed to understand how social determinants of health contribute to risk for IPH among Latinas who experience economic marginalization (Espinoza et al., 2023; Guadalupe-Diaz & West, 2020; Sokoloff, 2008). For instance, transgender Latinas report higher rates of living at or near the poverty line when compared to other transgender people of color, placing them at heightened risk for IPV (Guadalupe-Diaz & West, 2020). A related methodological issue noted by IPV scholars is the risk for confounding ethnicity with social determinants of health, including income (Stockman et al., 2015). Mixed-method and qualitative research can help build knowledge on other structural and cultural factors, such as discrimination.

Societal attitudes, awareness, and prejudice occur at the macro-level and can lead to systems of response that are unwelcoming and re-traumatizing to Latinas marginalized by gender identity and/or cultural identity (Reina et al., 2013). Specifically, trans antagonistic culture facilitates transgender vulnerability to violent victimization, heightening risk for partner homicide (Guadalupe-Diaz, 2019). Poly victimization studies show that transgender Latinx people are 1.07 times more likely to report a greater number of violent victimization experiences in their lifetime and they are 1.66 times more likely to experience family violence when compared to other transgender people (Messinger et al., 2022). In one report, 69% (n = 70) of transgender Latinas surveyed reported knowing at least one other transgender individual murdered because of their gender identity (Padrón & Salcedo, 2013).

Protective Factors and Culturally Specific Prevention

Research suggests having a sense of community support, planning and engaging strategies for safety, spirituality or religion, and having children are all protective factors among Latinas at risk of partner homicide (Messing et al., 2013; Sabri et al., 2018). At the community level, state policies (e.g., restricting gun ownership and mandatory arrests for IPV) were associated with lower incidence of IPH among Hispanic participants (Stansfield et al., 2021). There are important cultural considerations for protective factors that engage Latinx communities. For instance, cultural scripts and acceptance of violence can undermine the protective influence of social support (Sabri et al., 2018). Specifically, familismo, in tandem with cultural scripts that emphasize obedience, self-sacrifice, and humility, can serve as a barrier to reporting IPV among Latina survivors (Harper, 2017; Reina et al., 2013; Vidales, 2010). Conversely, research indicates that familismo can promote a sense of trust and comfort in accessing informal support (Brabeck & Guzmán, 2009; Marrs Fuchsel, 2013; Terrazas-Carrillo et al., 2020; Terrazas-Carrillo et al., 2022). Within Latina community samples, U.S. born Latinas are at higher risk for IPV than recent immigrants (Espinoza et al., 2023). This may be due, in part, to rigid gender roles that also exist in mainstream culture in the United States, the loss of protective aspects of culture, or added role strain (Espinoza et al., 2023; Klevens, 2007).

Limited research has considered IPH risk and protective factors among Latinas from a culturally specific lens. Indeed, culturally specific prevention efforts more broadly focused on IPV have revealed promising findings like building protective cultural scripts, bridging informal and formal sources of support, and growing awareness about the issue. Culturally specific interventions can promote safety behaviors, enhance self-esteem, and support well-being among Latina survivors (Fuchsel et al., 2016; Marrs Fuchsel & Brummett, 2021; McCabe et al., 2016; Serrata et al., 2020). These community-led culturally specific initiatives have promoted positive outcomes among Latina IPV survivors including service referral usage, speaking out against family violence, and promoting healthy relationships (Serrata et al., 2020). Finally, culturally specific efforts can address the numerous barriers to help-seeking that Latina IPV victims face, which include language access, distrust of legal systems, xenophobia, and discrimination (Erez et al., 2009; Harper, 2017; O’Neal & Beckman, 2017; Sabri et al., 2018). Taken together, existing research on culturally specific interventions for IPV have underscored their utility for Latinas. Accordingly, further attention to IPH risk and protective factors with cultural consideration is warranted.

History of Violence and Homicide Threats

Histories of violence included physical violence, homicidal threats, coercive/controlling behaviors, and stalking. Overall, physical violence observed or experienced by participants was wide ranging and included physical attacks such as choking, being hit with objects, hair pulling, or being burned or cut. Some participants highlighted examples of direct homicide threats, as illustrated by one advocate who recalled: “He killed her after the day he had announced it. I remember because I knew her around that time. And he told her, ‘Tell your kids that if they find you dead, it’s because I killed you.’” Forms of physical abuse noted by participants may not leave obvious bruises or marks, such as attempted drowning. Alcohol or substance use were mentioned in the context of homicidal actions or violence.

Homicide threats were described as communications of intent, means, or plans for death, including threats made through instant messaging on phones or through social media applications. Threats to children or loved ones were also used by partners to maintain control and force women to comply with their demands. In one case described by an advocate, a mother was pressured to convince her daughter to leave a shelter. Both mother and daughter were killed by homicide. Nonverbal threats included showing or pointing a gun at a survivor, holding a knife (or in some instances, a machete) up to a survivor, or attempting to strangulate survivors. Homicidal behaviors or attempts uniquely mentioned by one or two participants included taking out a life insurance policy on the survivor or attempting to drown the partner.

Other coercive and controlling behaviors reported by Latina survivors and practitioners included limiting access to money, phones, or transportation. Stalking behaviors such as showing up at survivors’ workplace, watching the home, or controlling women’s autonomy within the home were similarly used to intimidate and control. One advocate described how one individual controlled their partner’s ability to cook and prepare food, “this perpetrator turned off the gas and he turned off the electricity. So, there was food in the fridge she could not cook.” Controlling behaviors like these cultivate a sense of dependency on partners that use violence.

Several transgender Latina survivors uniquely emphasized their histories with violence in the family of origin as well as violent rejection from neighbors, schoolmates, and local community. Transgender Latina women echoed that these histories of violence and control by family and community led to homelessness, exposure to potential abusers, and fostered precarious situations where future violence was more likely to occur. A survivor shared: “Empezamos con las discriminaciones, incluso cuando vas a la adolescencia y te empiezas a armonizar el maltrato familiar, el maltrato psicológico, verbal y físico también porque hemos pasado por eso.” (We start with discrimination, even when you reach adolescence you begin to get use to family abuse, psychological, verbal, and physical abuse, too, because we have gone through that.)

Power and Social Connections

Participants discussed partners who use violence holding positions of authority (specifically, law enforcement), or having powerful connections. A partner’s use of these social networks can contribute to feelings of shame and alienation among women. Gender norms also influence relationship dynamics in intimate partner violence, and in the current study, survivors and advocates frequently referred to male partner’s use of social networks and status. Power differentials due to status and male gender work hand in hand, as partners using violence were described by some as being aided in stalking behavior or threats by co-workers in the male-dominated field of police or male relatives. Partners using violence were described by some as leveraging their social network to intimidate and maintain the status quo. Friends or family can contribute to the violence and threats in women’s lives, as described by one survivor: “My ex-husband’s nephew came with a weapon, and I was very scared, this was the most difficult situation that I had.” One practitioner touched on connections to criminal networks among partners that use violence, who may threaten partners, for instance, “if you don’t do x y z, I can call you know make a few calls and you won’t hear about your family in the Dominican Republic. Or, you know, ‘your family’s going to be harmed here?’” As this quote illustrates, social power and influence can aid abuse both in the U.S. and countries of origin.

While transgender Latina women did not specifically cite a partner with institutional or network-based power, several did mention histories of abuse by military and law enforcement officials in their country of origin. These experiences speak to the overall theme that abusers with access to institutional power can leverage such systems to their advantage. For transgender Latina women, violence by actors in the military and police-state represented yet another resource that not only could they not count on for help but that actively victimized them: Yo sé lo que es el proceso de la policía, y por . . . por proteger a mi agresor. . . acabé presa. . . me afectó en todo mi proceso que he trabajado, muchos muchos años como mujer trans, como activista. (“I know what the police process is like, for protecting my abuser. . . I ended up arrested. . . it affected me in the process of my work I have done for many, many years as a trans woman and as an activist.”)

Latina individuals marginalized by one or more identity such as immigration status, gender, and/or indigenous identities uniquely emphasized isolation from lack of social support and connections. These experiences can stem from structural discrimination and forced migration. Specifically, women in the indigenous survivor listening session (n = 6) reported attempts to seek help from police in their native countries but had difficulties reporting and interacting with officers, most of whom did not speak their native language, Mam. This issue followed migrant indigenous Latinas, who also expressed challenges in accessing victim organizations that provided services in their native indigenous language. Mam indigenous participants described difficult decisions surrounding their migration to the United States, explaining they must often remain permanently displaced from their home countries for their continued safety. A Mam survivior shared:

“Me duele que no pude yo despedir a ellos como se debe de ser. Todo por culpa de la violencia doméstica [. . .] Por eso no puedo regresar a mi país ni a enterrar a mis padres” (“It hurts me more that I could not bid farewell to them as it should be. All because of domestic violence[. . .] That’s why I can’t go back to my country or bury my parents”).”

As this quote illustrates, Mam survivors highlight forced migration and the resulting isolation. Disconnection from home countries has unique cultural implications for indigenous Latinas, whose culture emphasizes land spirituality and social connection.

Transgender participants (n = 8) described experiences of rejection from services lacking an LGBTQ+ and transgender focus, though the availability of gender specific victim organizations and services has been slowly growing with time (see Community and Cultural strengths for a related theme). Transgender survivors also described discrimination from police interactions including misgendering Latina victims, jokes, and slurs, minimizing the abuse, and discounting reports of intimate partner violence.

In addition to this lack of formal support, transgender Latina survivors reported experiencing rejection and strained family relationships due to their gender identity. Findings highlight family-of-origin trauma including family shunning, being kicked out of homes, as well as verbal and emotional abuse. As a result of ostracism and discrimination perpetrated by their own family members, transgender Latinas were socially isolated and displaced to vulnerable situations conducive to potential victimization. For instance, one participant described how her family kicked her out of the home at the age of 16 due to her transgender identity.

Hesitancy to Disclose Threats to Safety

“Sí, de mi parte yo si me sentía que estaba en peligro porque no sabía que decir, no podía hablar, no podía, no podía ni hablar por teléfono ni nada como eso fue así, verdad que no podía ni hablar con mi familia.”(Yes, for my part I did feel that I was in danger because I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t, I couldn’t even talk on the phone or anything like that, it was true that I couldn’t even talk to my family.)

As this quote illustrates, a post-traumatic stress response expressed as numbing or difficulty with emotional expression may complicate one’s ability to talk about experiences of violence. Isolation due to being withdrawn from friends and family, unhelpful responses from formal support systems, economic or emotional dependence on abusers, and fear and hesitancy about their documentation status were all mentioned by survivors and advocates as reasons women may not disclose violence. Women may also have the reasonable concern that sharing details of abuse will escalate violence. A survivor experiencing ongoing psychological and emotional violence from her children’s father cited miedo (fear) in explaining “quedaba callada, por proteger a mis hijas” (“I would stay quiet to protect my daughters”). Several practitioners uniquely emphasized knowledge of homicides in their community where Latina victims were not engaged in services at the time of their death and were not disclosing abuse to informal supports. An advocate shared:

Se le ayudó con muchas cosas. Me imagino que lo deben de conocer, pero desafortunadamente cuando ella decidió, años después que había salido de acá, siguió en esa relación de abuso y cuando decidió dejarlo fue cuando la persona la mató y se suicidó. Eso llega a pasar esto y cuando nos enteramos y se llamó a la mamá, la familia y todo, nadie sabía nada, nadie sabía que ella estaba pasando violencia doméstica porque ella nunca mencionó por lo mismo, por la misma cultura que tenemos. La familia Latina permanece unida, no dice nada, no pasa nada y al final murió. (She received a lot of help. I imagine you all may know her, but unfortunately, when she decided, a year after leaving our program, she remained in the relationship and when she finally decided to leave him is when that person killed her and committed suicide after. That happened and we found out and called her mom, her family and no one knew anything, no one knew that she was a victim of domestic violence, she never said anything because of the culture we have. The Latinx family stays together, she didn’t say anything, and she died.)

As this quote illustrates, Latinas may hesitate to disclose IPV due to stigma. Overall, post-traumatic stress, concern about the consequences on family, and shame, may contribute to a numb or quiet disposition among survivors. Emotional response and women’s own risk appraisal often constitute an important warning signal regardless of the level of detail they disclose and is discussed in more detail, next.

Fear and Conviction

Practitioners and advocates discussed verbal or nonverbal expressions of fear or apprehension as signals of danger in IPV contexts. Attention to nonverbal communication and fear responses is particularly important because feelings and behavior can be incongruent. For example, one advocate noted women may state there is not a problem after police are called to the home, even though her disposition suggests otherwise (i.e., trembling). On the other hand, Latina survivors may verbally share fear for their lives even in cases where there is no history of homicidal behavior, as a practitioner noted in session: “I’ve also had clients that they said to me ‘. . .he has never touched me, but he’s said that he’s going to kill me, and I believe him because I know how he is.’” Findings from other participants in the interviews and listening sessions echoed these sentiments. Fear response varies by individual experience with trauma; thus, Latina survivors may, or may not express a direct concern for their wellbeing but be able to discuss concern for children and family.

A survivor’s stress response can also be characterized by behavioral activation to escape violence or remove children from the home. One practitioner noted survivors may express an urgent need to flee partners: “So, we help them go to other places because there is so much fear, they are willing to leave everything behind, everything that they know because they truly believe that their life is in danger.” This quote demonstrates that fear is often a driving factor for another elevated time of risk, separation from a dangerous partner.

Separating or Leaving Abusive Partners

Leaving a relationship can be a precarious time for Latinas experiencing partner violence. Separation also represents an important safety strategy, as Latina survivors may feel a need to put significant distance between themselves and their abusers. Several practitioners explained that a woman’s decision to leave may disrupt the power dynamic between partners: “Cuando las víctimas salen de una relación es cuando aumenta el peligro, es porque el abusador ahí pierde control.” (When a victim ends the relationship is when danger increases, and it’s because the abuser has lost control.)

Another practitioner noted that sharing intention to leave with a partner may elevate risk for IPH: “The only thing she would say is that she couldn’t take it anymore, that she was going to end it, that she was going to leave him. So, she told him one day. She even told me that she already let him know that she was leaving and taking the children. And I think that the next day I saw it on the news. . .” As this quote suggests, separation may be characterized by change in power dynamics and introduce new conflicts (including conflict over children). Leaving is also a time when survivors feel uncertain about the future. A MAM survivor shared that when she decided to separate, she asked herself, “¿qué voy a hacer? ¿a dónde me voy a ir?” (What am I going to do? Where will I go?)

Kinship and Community

Overall, Latinx community strengths show sources of inner and community strengths that Latinx survivors can lean on as they cope with IPV. Latina survivors described themselves and peers as working to build support networks, including seeking employment and activity outside the house, talking with loved ones, and attending mutual support groups or church. A few participants characterized positive interactions with systems and advocates as empathetic, responsive, and providing protective measures, such as keeping new resident addresses private. Narratives from survivors also revealed an interplay between informal and formal sources of support, where trusted community members like friends and family share critical information and encourage one another to engage in formal services. Transgender Latina woman emphasized social connections to other transgender women. Solidarity was viewed as a mechanism for survival. Shared experiences with other women like themselves supported a sense of empowerment among Latina survivors. Indigenous Latina survivors similarly emphasized the importance of kinship and community based on shared experiences, emotional support, and advocacy. In many instances, indigenous Latina peers acted as a bridge to culturally specific programing, encouraging Mam survivors to both initially access services and return as needed: “Ella me invitó que me platicó de una reunión que había en MAM. . .Y entonces ahorita regresé y estoy con el grupo MAM.” (“She invited me and told me about a reunion they were having in Mam. . . So, I rejoined, and I am with the Mam group.”)