Jacquie Marroquin spent much of her childhood living in fear of her father.

A child of undocumented immigrants from Guatemala, Marroquin—who grew up in Los Angeles in the 1970s—worried that speaking to anyone in authority about her father’s physical and emotional abuse would put her family in danger of being separated, or get her parents deported. But she desperately wanted the abuse to stop.

“All I ever wanted as a child was somebody to talk to my abusive father and make him understand the harm he was causing,” says Marroquin, who is now 48. “I believe my father could have changed if he’d had the support he needed to believe his family when we told him he was hurting us.”

Her father never got that support, but Marroquin is now trying to help other people interrupt the types of abusive behaviors that made her own childhood difficult. Recently, she became the first California-based responder working for A Call for Change, a free and confidential helpline for people causing or considering causing harm to an intimate partner or other loved one. 

The helpline began in Massachusetts, but a coalition of California-based advocacy groups are promoting its use across the Golden State. Their goal is to make the helpline widely accessible to people across California and ultimately generate enough interest and funding to power a team of locally based helpline responders like Marroquin who can answer calls specifically from people in the region and offer relevant referrals when needed. 

The Alliance for Boys and Men of Color, a network of community and advocacy organizations focused on advancing racial and gender justice, is spearheading expansion of the helpline in California. For the past several years, the network has led a campaign to create new ways of addressing intimate partner violence that don’t involve the criminal or legal system. Network leaders and many other advocates believe alternative approaches are needed because, despite the prevalence of domestic violence—it affects approximately 1 in 3 women and 1 in 10 men. Many people don’t report incidents to the police because they fear it will make their situations worse. Their fears are not unfounded, surveys show.

Most domestic violence interventions focus on helping survivors, often requiring them and sometimes their children to upend their lives by seeking shelter and safety. Far fewer resources are dedicated to helping the people causing the harm to stop what they’re doing, says Jordan Thierry, a consultant for the Alliance for Boys and Men of Color. 

These people may realize they need help, he said. But the programs that exist, traditionally called “batterer intervention programs,” are usually court-mandated and not financially accessible or tailored to people who haven’t been convicted of a crime. Therapy is another option, but many people don’t have the health coverage or money to afford it, or struggle to find therapists they can relate to.

That’s the gap organizers believe A Call for Change can fill.

“We know there’s a demand and a need,” says Thierry. Other than the helpline “there’s no resource that’s available that’s confidential and anonymous for people who are causing harm who don’t want to submit themselves to the legal justice system and out themselves in their own community.”

A Call for Change launched in 2021 in rural Massachusetts in response to reports of growing domestic violence during the COVID-19 pandemic. It draws inspiration from similar helplines in the United Kingdom and Australia, and was designed with input from a 12-member advisory board of professionals and activists whose work involves addressing domestic violence. 

The helpline is funded by the Massachusetts Department of Public Health.​ But because people can call the helpline from anywhere, about half of the approximately 1,000 calls annually come from out of state, including California, said co-founder JAC Patrissi.

Callers to the helpline talk to a responder trained in trauma-informed and transformative justice principles. That means the responder doesn’t judge or shame the caller but has a respectful and compassionate conversation that aims to help them gain insight into their own beliefs and behaviors, and recognize patterns of control, manipulation, and violence that are harming their relationships. 

Callers are not absolved of their violence, Patrissi emphasized. Responders guide people causing harm to move beyond denial and blame so that they can understand the impact of their actions and take responsibility. Responders then help callers develop strategies for being a safer person for their loved ones to be around. Often, this occurs over several hours-long phone sessions, Patrissi said. Callers frequently call back multiple times.

Patrissi said part of the problem with criminal justice responses to people who engage in domestic violence is that they replicate the same patterns of dominance and control that they’re trying to stop. That’s why the helpline offers a different approach. “You can’t shame people into stopping shaming others, you can’t control people into stopping controlling others,” Patrissi said. “We have to find a way that interrupts sexual and domestic violence in a way that doesn’t replicate dominance.” 

The helpline may not be the right fit for everyone. People who are taking the time to call a helpline are generally already open to making some kind of change, even if they’re only in the beginning stages of that journey, she said. That’s why Patrissi believes no one has ever called the helpline in the middle of committing violence. Making the call is in itself a form of de-escalation and self-control.

All calls are anonymous. Because they’re routed through an operator, responders have no way of knowing who the caller is or where they’re calling from, unless the person chooses to disclose that information. This is important, said Patrissi, because most callers are very worried about being reported to the police and the impact that could have on their lives or their families. Without reassurance that their identity is protected, they won’t feel comfortable speaking freely and honestly with the responder, which would deprive them of the opportunity to get help, she explained. 

About half of the callers to the helpline are family members, friends, or professionals seeking assistance in dealing with a person engaged in intimate partner violence. Responders provide guidance on how they can talk to the person they’re concerned about and can also offer referrals to services.

The helpline is already open and available to callers from California, though most of the responders are in other parts of the U.S. Responders receive 40 hours of initial training followed by additional weekly training and debriefing sessions. Some responders are licensed therapists, but many are drawn to the work from other backgrounds. The positions are paid.

The Alliance for Boys and Men of Color, with collaboration from Patrissi’s organization, Growing a New Heart, have begun spreading the word about A Call for Change to men’s groups, local governments, youth organizations, and nonprofits working to address domestic violence, among others. Last fall, they hosted two online webinars and an in-person gathering in the Bay Area to inform people interested in the helpline and guide them on how to speak about it to those they think could benefit. 

In October, about 35 people from a variety of organizations gathered at the RYSE Center in Richmond, California, to hear presentations from Patrissi and others involved in running the helpline. They listened to a reenactment of a real call from a man seeking to understand why someone he went on a date with is accusing him of sexual assault. The responder encourages the man to look more closely at a moment during his interaction with his date in which he deliberately ignored her cues to stop. Gradually, the caller is able to identify an underlying belief that caused him to keep going, and to see the interaction from the woman’s point of view.

Attendees also practiced role-playing how to talk with people in their communities about the hotline and encourage those they think could benefit to call. Ruby Leanos, a project manager at the Contra Costa Crisis Center, which runs a crisis and suicide prevention line, said she planned to share information about A Call for Change with staff there so they could offer it as a resource to relevant callers.

“Just knowing something like this exists is great,” she says. “We have so many of these hotlines and warmlines and helplines, but really A Call for Change and the population it’s working with, I think that’s something that we don’t see enough of.”

Paméla Tate, co-executive director of Black Women Revolt Against Domestic Violence, which offers support to women and families affected by domestic violence, said survivors have long been asking for the type of intervention that A Call for Change offers. Many of her clients still love their partners and want to be with them, but they want their partners to get help to stop their harmful behavior. The helpline offers an opportunity for people being abusive to proactively get that help without reaching the point of causing their partner to flee or call the police.

“Batterers intervention programs are because you’ve already battered, you’ve already been found guilty of battering, they send you to a class,” Tate says. “This is, ‘I’m voluntarily calling … Maybe I can talk this out and figure out how to de-escalate and not cause harm, because I don’t want to harm my partner.’”

The question remaining for Tate is, will enough people who need the help actually call the helpline?

Ben Withers, who works for STAND! For Families Free of Violence, an organization in Contra Costa County, California, that runs a batterer’s intervention program, said he was already recommending the helpline to people in his program to call for extra support between classes. Withers said he hoped the helpline would steer other people who could benefit from anti-violence programs like his to enroll in classes voluntarily.

Currently only about 10 percent of people in the batterer’s intervention program are there because they want to be, he explained. “I’m excited for the people calling,” he says. The helpline “creates an avenue for people to enter services outside of the carceral system.” 

The Alliance for Boys and Men of Color plans to do additional trainings about the helpline and is fundraising to support expanding its hours and responder staff in California. Ultimately, organizers said they hoped to get state government support for the effort.

Meanwhile, for Marroquin, the abuse she experienced as a child pushed her to pursue a career working with and advocating for survivors of domestic violence. Although she said she never succeeded in persuading her father to change his ways, she’s hopeful her work as a responder for A Call for Change will break the cycle of abuse for other families and intimate partners.  

“To be able to do this for somebody else’s parent, somebody else’s partner is deeply healing for me too,” she says.

To reach A Call for Change, call 877-898-3411 or email [email protected] The helpline is open from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. PST every day of the year. It’s free, anonymous, and confidential. Language translation is available. After-hours callers can leave a voicemail and receive a call back within 24 hours. For more information visit acallforchangehelpline.org.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic violence, you can also contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 for support and referrals, or text “START” to 88788. Information on local domestic violence programs can be found using this online tool.

For Native Americans and Alaska Natives, the StrongHearts Native Helpline at 1-844-7NATIVE (762-8483) provides 24/7 confidential and culturally appropriate support and advocacy for survivors of domestic and sexual violence. A chat option is available through their website.

This story was produced in collaboration with the California Health Report.