When I first heard of the California Partnership to End Domestic Violence, I had just left my marriage and moved to Southern California to stay with family. I had no job, no income, and no clear picture of what came next.
I was invited to speak on a community panel for a local domestic violence prevention event. During one of our planning conversations, someone mentioned the Partnership, so I looked it up immediately. I was excited to discover that there was space for survivors in the membership too, so I joined that day. The Partnership offered survivors a discounted membership. Money was tight, but it was worth the investment because what mattered even more was finding a place where I could belong.
Through newsletters and gatherings, I began connecting to a larger community of people who had also been impacted by domestic violence. This gave me the space to finally exhale. There’s almost an unspoken language when you’re surrounded by people who share similar experiences. I didn’t have to explain or defend how I felt. When you’re already tired from always having to survive, fight, and overshare, there is relief in not having to do any of that just to be understood. And I wanted this for my daughter, too.
She had experienced much of this alongside me. One thing I wanted her to know was that what we experienced wasn’t normal or healthy, and that she wasn’t alone. So when a storytelling opportunity for youth came through the Partnership, I shared it with her.
That opportunity led to others. She was able to connect with other youth and trusted adults who understood her experience. She told her story and began using her voice. Eventually, she spoke with California legislators during Orange Day and served as a youth keynote speaker at the Shifting the Lens Conference. Those accomplishments made me proud as her mother, but what mattered even more was that she now had community. I was still trying to find my own footing and move forward, and I couldn’t be everything my daughter needed. So I leaned on community. The Partnership became part of our village.
And just as my daughter found opportunities to use her voice, so did I. On May 20, 2025, my eighth anniversary of leaving, I spent the day at the California State Capitol for Policy Advocacy Day. I stood alongside other survivors, advocates and service providers as we met with elected officials to advocate for the resources survivors need. There was something powerful about spending that anniversary using my lived experience to advocate for change.
And who knew that one year later, May 20, 2026, would have another chapter waiting for me. On my ninth anniversary of leaving, the Partnership kicked off its Media Advocacy Training for Survivors, and I was one of the survivors selected to participate. The training brought survivors and journalists together to strengthen how domestic violence is represented in the media.
Policy changes conditions. Media shapes understanding. Survivor voices belong in both.
When I think back to my first interaction with the Partnership, I could never have imagined all the wonderful things that would come from it—and are still coming from it. I was simply looking for a place where I could belong and feel understood. I found community. I found a village. And I found opportunities for both my daughter and me to use our voices in ways I never expected when I first walked through the Partnership’s doors.
This Domestic Violence Awareness Month, I’m asking you to join me in supporting the Partnership so they can create more opportunities for survivors like me to share our stories. Because there is one thing that I know for sure: sometimes our hardest endings become our most beautiful beginnings.
In community,
Josephine Smedley
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