Kendra Carillon could hear the stress in the woman’s voice.
She had answered the crisis line for Embrace, a nonprofit serving domestic and sexual violence victims in rural Wisconsin.
Carillon listened as the caller described a violent mental health episode her husband experienced.
It had started around 4 a.m. inside the family’s cramped two-bedroom apartment. The woman had almost called then, thinking she and her four children — the youngest only nine months old — needed to flee to Embrace’s shelter.
But she convinced her husband to leave the apartment, giving them a reprieve. She did not want him arrested. Could Embrace help her get a restraining order instead?
“She wants him to get help,” Carillion said after the call. “We hear that so much.”
If Embrace does not exist, there’s no one to answer that phone. No one to offer shelter. No one to help keep people alive.
Across the country, organizations that help victims of domestic violence and sexual assault like Embrace are facing a funding crisis like nothing they’ve seen before.
Shortfalls in a national fund for crime victims, known as VOCA, are slashing budgets. In Wisconsin, some nonprofits have lost more than 80% of that funding.
Although the cuts were expected, the Trump administration’s pauses or cancellations of other grants and programs, firing of key staff and sweeping executive orders have compounded the situation. Some of the actions have been paused or reversed in court, but the uncertainty has caused chaos.
Embrace is trying to survive.
Embrace executive director Katie Bement (center) meets with staff members Jordanne Myszka-Schilling, Cassandra Clark and Missy Jerome at the Barron County office on May 14 in Rice Lake, Wisconsin. The staff is preparing to relocate to a smaller office as they adjust to federal funding cuts.
The nonprofit’s board and executive director are weighing how far to cut without disrupting core services. The board’s fundraising committee has kicked into high gear, exploring legacy giving and more direct appeals for donations. Only 5% of the nonprofit’s budget currently comes from private giving.
Similar situations are unfolding at nonprofits and agencies serving communities across Wisconsin.
And the calls for help keep coming.
An elderly woman who wants a restraining order against her longtime husband. A woman with plans to move away, only to lose her job and face an eviction that could derail her fresh start. A woman who fled abuse and whose trailer does not have running water.
“Nobody will help me,” one said.
In a rural part of Wisconsin, only one provider for domestic violence victims
Domestic violence thrives in isolation, and it’s easy to feel isolated in the area Embrace serves.
The nonprofit covers Barron, Rusk, Price and Washburn counties, an area roughly the size of Connecticut with about 92,000 people. When advocates drive between offices — there’s one in each county — it often takes two hours or more.
Cellphone and internet service are spotty. Factories and farms offer some stable employment, but poverty rates hover near or above the state average. There are no bus routes and few rideshares. The closest hospital with a labor and delivery unit is in Eau Claire, an hour or more away.
Embrace is the sole advocacy agency serving victims of domestic violence in the region.
The nonprofit, which opened in 1980, staffs a crisis line, offers trauma counseling and connects victims to legal and housing services, though it remains best known for its emergency shelter. On average, Embrace serves about 2,000 people annually.
The work costs money.
Embrace’s budget was $1.9 million last year, including $650,000 in federal VOCA funding and pandemic relief money that made up about a third of the budget. This year, the VOCA funding plummeted to $118,000, about an 82% cut.
The Embrace family shelter in Ladysmith once served as the original office space for the organization. Embrace is renovating the shelter into two family units that do not require on-site staff. The nonprofit eliminated its shelter coordinator position as part of federal funding cuts.
Of the 95 Wisconsin agencies that received VOCA funds this year, Embrace was among those losing the most funding year-to-year, according to records from the state Department of Justice.
Nationally, VOCA funds have declined steadily since 2018. The pool of money comes from fines and penalties collected in federal criminal court cases, not taxpayer dollars.
Congress addressed the funding formula in so-called “VOCA Fix” legislation in 2021, but it will take years before the fund is fully replenished, if at all.
Embrace’s executive director, Katie Bement, and the board knew the VOCA shortfall was coming. They started leaving positions vacant. At full strength in 2022, Embrace had about 25 positions. This year, it has 12 full-time positions and four part-time positions.
A new federal grant from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development stabilized the 2025 budget, almost replacing the VOCA amount. Bement estimated about one-quarter of staff costs are covered by the rapid rehousing grant.
But the funding streams are very different. VOCA enabled Embrace to serve between 600 to 800 victims in-person annually, doing everything from changing locks to buying shoes for a survivor’s children. HUD funding is far less flexible — more than half must be spent on direct rental assistance — and allows Embrace to serve only 14 families, Bement said.
“The monetary amount looks similar but the program has changed drastically,” she said.
The nonprofit is planning for a smaller budget in 2026 of about $1.6 million, though exact grant amounts could change.
New grant restrictions are expected as federal departments seek to enforce the president’s executive orders.
Updated grant listings from the federal Office on Violence Against Women, for example, now say organizations cannot spend grant money “promoting gender ideology” or “activities that frame domestic violence or sexual assault as systemic social justice issues rather than criminal offenses.”
Those requirements are the subject of a recent lawsuit filed by coalitions of victim-service providers across the country, including two in Wisconsin. The Trump administration has stood by the executive orders in earlier court cases and said domestic violence survivors’ needs would still be met, regardless of federal staff cuts and funding pauses.
Advocates say the language cuts to the heart of what agencies like Embrace do: meet people where they are, accept them for who they are and help them find safety in a way that minimizes harm. For Embrace’s leaders, that means providing tailored support for people of color and queer and trans survivors.
“We’re being asked to change our values and our mission to keep federal funding,” Bement said. “Those changes are limiting how we can help survivors.”
Fawn Ackerman, domestic violence program coordinator, right, makes a home visit to a survivor of domestic abuse at her home in Rusk County in Wisconsin. Ackerman checks in with the woman to make sure she is on track with her personal goals.
Finding alternatives to safety outside of legal systems, an approach that now could put funding at risk
Not every survivor wants a restraining order or a partner jailed. Some believe the legal system will cause more problems than it solves.
Advocates understand this. Many are survivors themselves.
As a result, Embrace staff offer legal resources at victims’ request but also provide alternatives, an approach that now may conflict with federal grant guidelines.
Embrace also has had a strained relationship with law enforcement. In 2020, the nonprofit made national news when local police agencies withdrew support after staff placed a “Black Lives Matter” sign outside of the shelter. The Barron County sheriff resigned from Embrace’s board and the county board revoked an annual contract of $25,000.
More recently, after Embrace set up two harm-reduction vending machines, local government officials warned Bement, the executive director, that she faced possible arrest.
One of two harm reduction vending machines provided by Embrace in their office spaces. The machines offer free emergency contraception, condoms, naloxone, clean needles and fentanyl testing strips, among other items.
The machines are stocked with free emergency contraception, condoms, naloxone, clean needles and fentanyl testing strips, among other items. Many of Embrace’s clients are dealing with substance abuse, often the result of trauma.
“We’ll do what the most harmed survivor needs us to do to keep them safe,” Bement said.
Sometimes that means not involving law enforcement.
The woman who called Carillon decided not to pursue a restraining order because it could lead to her husband’s arrest if he violated it.
Jail would not solve his underlying mental health issues or deal with his earlier trauma, the woman said, adding that both she and her husband had spent time in foster care.
Carillon did not pressure her. She listened.
“If I were to separate myself from my husband, how would I have the finances to support my children?” said the woman, who asked not to be named for privacy and safety reasons.
Previous interactions with police officers had made her feel demeaned and unheard, she said.
“I get the ridicule of: ‘Well, if you couldn’t handle it, then maybe you shouldn’t have had that many kids,’” she said. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?”
The woman started to cry.
“My babies are my world,” she said. “They are my morning and evening stars, they are everything.”
IN-DEPTH COVERAGE: Domestic violence deaths are rising. Children are witnessing them. Inside the crisis facing Milwaukee County.
What it takes to find safety: Stable housing, regular support and help removing barriers
A crisis call is an exercise in triage: Who needs help right now to stay safe?
The aftermath can take years of support not just from family and friends but also from a fragile social safety net.
In northwest Wisconsin, Embrace is an important thread in that net, finding resources for survivors who might have a criminal record, past eviction or poor credit score.
Jordanne Myszka-Schiling, domestic violence program coordinator at Embrace, talks with a client about her housing situation.
Fawn Ackerman, Embrace’s domestic violence program coordinator, navigates those challenges every day. On a recent Thursday, she parked on the gravel outside a one-bedroom house and smiled at the woman waiting for her.
The woman, a survivor of sexual abuse, had found the house through Embrace. The rent was paid by a grant administered by the Salvation Army. The Salvation Army didn’t have staff to do the grant’s required case management, so Embrace stepped in, Ackerman said.
Inside the house, Ackerman took out a clipboard and ran through the required checklist: Garbage and recycling picked up. No sign of rodents. No leaks. No holes.
“Everything is looking great, as per usual,” Ackerman said.
The woman pointed to the backdoor.
“I’m having issues locking it,” she said. “And trust me, I locked myself out by accident, and if I can push it open, everyone can.”
Ackerman jotted a note and said she would reach out to the landlord.
The two discussed her goals for the previous month. She had applied for five jobs and attended two addiction recovery meetings. She also organized her family to sign birthday cards for two relatives and sent a card to her brother, which met her goal of strengthening a support network.
A survivor of sexual assault who requested not to be identified to protect her safety. Embrace is supporting her with emergency shelter and housing.
The woman was in jail when she first met an Embrace advocate, who introduced her to “Seeking Safety,” a program to address post-traumatic stress and substance abuse.
The curriculum made her reflect on her experiences growing up on a small dairy farm, said the woman, who requested not to be named to protect her safety and privacy.
Her father was an alcoholic and beat her mother, enraged whenever she called local bars to remind him to milk the cows. A babysitter molested the woman when she was nine. She began drinking in middle school. Her legal troubles had been the result of substance abuse and “trauma-bonding” with the wrong men, she said.
Ackerman nodded as the woman listed off her goals for the coming month: prioritizing medical appointments, eating healthier and finding a tablet or laptop to pursue online schooling.
Ackerman promised to drop off a bag of groceries later in the week and to look for a new pair of shoes. The woman did not have a car and her sneakers were worn.
“I think it’s getting better, having the place here,” the woman said, as she walked outside.
She knelt to pull some weeds near the house’s foundation.
As federal funds dry up, will private donations make up the difference?
On a humid afternoon in May, Embrace’s fundraising committee tried to balance short and long-term thinking.
The nonprofit had never done a direct appeal for legacy giving, when supporters bequeath funds to a cause in their will or estate.
Bement, the executive director, said she struggled to prioritize such an effort when other matters felt more urgent.
Kathryn Chapman, a board member, offered to draft the language and pointed to her own experience as executive director at Golden House, a domestic violence shelter in Green Bay.
“I got a letter and it was $100,000 from a family I didn’t even know,” she said, describing an unexpected legacy gift.
About 5% of Embrace’s budget comes from private donations. At the committee meeting, no one had a firm goal of what the percentage should be — one person quipped 100% to be insulated from political whims — only that it should grow.
Myszka-Schilling goes through packed boxes that will be moved to a smaller office in Rice Lake.
The committee agreed corporate giving seemed uncertain, as businesses prepared for tariffs.
Local giving remained limited, though Embrace recently had been surprised with a $70,000 donation. It came after a board member had posted on Facebook about a recent domestic violence homicide and urged friends to support Embrace’s work.
Bement encouraged board members to keep posting about Embrace. She shared graphics, statistics and callouts for social media that had been designed by national and statewide advocacy coalitions.
Two hours later, at the full board meeting, the conversation turned to the other side of the budget: costs.
Bement gave the board a draft plan for further downsizing but still maintaining a presence in each county.
“This structure will allow us to be more flexible to whatever funding comes our way or is lost,” Bement said.
The plan also would enable Embrace to maintain staff salaries at state-recommended standards for victim service providers. Full-time advocacy staff are paid at least $44,000 annually and program coordinators earn at least $56,000 annually. Board members are not paid. Bement, as executive director, receives an $82,000 annual salary, according to tax records.
It’s possible help may come from the state.
Gov. Tony Evers, a Democrat, has proposed $66 million in the next state budget for crime victim services to help cover the VOCA shortfall. It’s unclear if the Republican-controlled Joint Finance Committee will move the proposal forward. The committee is working throughout June to craft the budget.
Even if the funding becomes law, it’s only for the two-year budget cycle, and more nonprofits likely will compete for it given shrinking federal resources.
“There’s not a question in my mind that the demand is going to increase,” said Embrace’s board president, David Willingham, who also is a local county supervisor.
Another board member asked if Embrace should consider closing its office in Price County, the most difficult branch to recruit staff and where the nonprofit has long been received with hostility. Bement quickly shut down that idea.
“That most harmed and marginalized person is in Price County,” she said.
Then, it was time for Bement to deliver news she was still processing. Operations manager, McKenzie Buehler, was resigning.
Buehler had first come to Embrace as a client seven years earlier. An advocate there made her feel heard, understood and validated, she said.
McKenzie Buehler becomes emotional while sharing about her experience as operations manager for Embrace over the last six years. As a survivor herself, Buehler understands firsthand the challenges facing victims of domestic abuse.
“The water is very muddy when you’re trying to leave and it’s also very dangerous,” she said in an interview. “My abuser – I was terrified he was going to kill me.”
A year after leaving the relationship, she applied to be Embrace’s officer manager and volunteer coordinator. She took on more duties until she became the nonprofit’s first operations manager nearly six years ago.
As she wiped away tears, Buehler told the board she wanted “to close this chapter” of her life for personal reasons. Still, she acknowledged the current funding crisis and political landscape had factored into her decision.
“The pressures ripple throughout our whole team,” she said.
Bement and the staff will absorb her responsibilities.
They have no plans to fill the position.
This article was reported through a fellowship supported by the Lilly Endowment and administered by the Chronicle of Philanthropy to expand coverage of philanthropy and nonprofits. The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel is solely responsible for all content.
Ashley Luthern is a reporter and deputy investigations editor at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. She can be reached at ashley.luthern@jrn.com.
Where to find help for domestic violence
Domestic violence advocates can help with safety planning. Calls to advocates are confidential and do not involve law enforcement.
The National Domestic Violence Hotline is 800-799-7233.
Embrace in northwest Wisconsin operates a 24-hour confidential hotline at 1-800-924-0556.
The Sojourner Family Peace Center in Milwaukee operates a 24-hour confidential hotline at 414-933-2722.
The Milwaukee Women’s Center offers a 24-hour crisis line at 414-671-6140.
The Women’s Center in Waukesha has a 24-hour hotline at 262-542-3828.
We Are Here Milwaukee provides information on culturally specific organizations at weareheremke.org.
This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Wisconsin domestic violence victim services at risk under funding cuts