This story was originally published by The Imprint, a national nonprofit news outlet covering child welfare and youth justice. Sign up for The Imprint’s free newsletters here.
It could be degrading name-calling or humiliation, or survivors of domestic abuse needing to talk about how a partner has isolated them from friends and family. At other times, they say they’re being physically harmed and lack the money to flee. Often, they simply need someone to share with who won’t judge them for being in an abusive relationship.
StrongHearts Native Helpline picks up the phone. An Indigenous “advocate” is on the other line, and the first task is to make certain the survivor of domestic violence is in a safe place. Then, they let the caller lead the way.
More than 12,000 callers of all ages from across the United States and Canada contact the helpline each year — this country’s only national helpline for Indigenous survivors of domestic violence. For many, it is their first time admitting they need help. They don’t know what to do or where to go.
Dozens of staff at the StrongHearts Native Helpline referred to as “advocates” — all of whom are Indigenous — are available to help survivors 24 hours every day by phone, text or chat.
Nicole Matthews, the chief executive officer of the Minnesota Indian Women’s Sexual Assault Coalition, called the helpline a “vital lifeline.”
“They’re often the first place people are calling if they are looking for resources, or if they’re just feeling hopeless and want to reach out for help,” she said.
The helpline has been funded by the Department of Health and Human Services since it was established in 2017, through a sub-grant from the National Domestic Violence Hotline. In September, officials announced the helpline was going to receive its first direct federal funding, a grant of $15 million that will allow it to continue answering calls through 2030.
Lori Jump, the nonprofit’s chief executive officer and a citizen of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians, called the new funding critical.
“It’s a recognition of the work that StrongHearts is doing,” she said. “It gives us breathing room. Now we know for the next five years that — not only can we serve our relatives — but there’s about 45 people that work here, and now they know that they will be getting a paycheck.”
The $15 million grant is a rare influx of cash from the second Trump administration that has otherwise slashed social service spending for tribes and the nation’s most vulnerable groups.
Funding for StrongHearts landed as similar programs face funding freezes or threats on the horizon. On Oct. 30, more than 110 members of Congress sent a letter to Attorney General Pam Bondi, expressing “grave concern” about the Trump administration’s monthslong campaign to roll back protections under the 1994 Violence Against Women Act and freeze previously awarded funding. The letter described the act as “our national effort to prevent and respond to domestic violence, sexual assault, dating violence, and stalking.”
A series of lawsuits has temporarily blocked the administration’s efforts to restrict millions of dollars of funding for upcoming grants and to eliminate funding supportive of LGBTQ+ populations.
The expanded funding for StrongHearts arrived after another prominent hotline — the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline’s LGBTQ Youth Specialized Services program, known as the ‘press 3 option’ — was shut down in the summer. The service fielded around 1.6 million calls, texts and chats between its launch in September 2022 and when it was shuttered in July 2025, according to federal data. The U.S. Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration maintains, however, that “anyone who calls the Lifeline will continue to receive compassion and help.”
“Weaving together a braid of safety, sovereignty and support”
Indigenous women have some of the highest rates of domestic abuse in the country. According to the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center, 55% have experienced physical violence by partners.
While it highlights this troubling statistic, the center is quick to point to the origins of these high rates: Domestic violence is “not traditional within Native communities and cultures,” it states. “Ending the violence experienced by Indigenous women in the United States requires an acknowledgment of colonization and genocide as root causes.”
The path forward that the center describes aligns with culturally relevant care for survivors, such as the work of the StrongHearts helpline: “Reclaiming the sacredness of women.”
The helpline was launched in 2017 after leadership at the National Domestic Violence Hotline realized in 2012 that they did not get many calls from Indigenous communities despite high rates of domestic abuse. And when they partnered with the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center to learn more, it became clear that Indigenous survivors needed their own helpline to call — one staffed by advocates who know the intricacies of tribal law and the history that has led Native Americans to prefer support that comes from within their communities.
“Native people really needed their own resource because of our history with people coming into our communities to so-call ‘help us,’” Jump said, “and bad things happened.”
Since then, the helpline has fielded more than 67,000 calls, texts and chats from people looking for support and resources, and, in 2024, more than 588,000 visitors viewed its website, according to the nonprofit’s annual report.
The helpline’s support resonates with Indigenous survivors. Its goal is “to restore power to Native Americans impacted by domestic and sexual violence by weaving together a braid of safety, sovereignty and support.”
Callers seek information about how to get custody of their children, where to get the financial help they need to extricate themselves from an abusive partner they remain dependent on, and where to find a tribal shelter. The advocates have resources at the ready: roughly 266 Indigenous-centered service providers across the country.
In a summary of the calls the helpline received between 2017 and 2022, 95% sought emotional support, and nearly two-thirds needed help making a personalized safety plan. In 38% of calls, a child was involved, and 14% needed help de-escalating a crisis.
Callers have said they feel “stuck” or describe living “in a dark hole.”
“I knew I wasn’t crazy,” one unidentified survivor told a helpline advocate last year. “You are making me feel like I can really leave him for good.”
Helping families with open child welfare cases
Minnesota was once home to StrongHearts’ main office, and it is among the top states that use its services. More than a third of the helpline’s Indigenous callers in Minnesota want help regarding emotional abuse, and more than 20% call about physical abuse, according to data from the nonprofit.
Cinnamon Bankey, executive director of Mending the Sacred Hoop — a Duluth-based nonprofit working to end domestic and sexual violence — explained why she refers survivors to StrongHearts. She said the helpline is especially helpful for families involved in child protection cases, who appreciate the anonymity they’re afforded.
The stakes are high, and survivors worry about CPS: “‘If they find out that I was beat up, or my partner is violent with me, they’re going to take my children,’” Bankey recounted.
She said that “it means the world” for victims who have open child welfare cases or have been involved in the justice system to get help without being required to name names. It’s also easier for Native survivors of domestic violence to trust advocates who do not have to be told about their culture to understand their experiences.
Bankey is a member of the Mendota Mdewakanton Dakota Tribal Community, for example. She pointed to a time she drew on Indigenous practices to offer support to a young woman who felt alone during a challenging time in her life.
“She was struggling with the abuse that had happened to her, so I brought our medicines,” Bankey said. “We sat there, and we talked as we made a medicine bag that she could keep with her.”
