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Alabama has earned a chilling reputation—one no state should be proud of. It consistently ranks among the highest in domestic violence-related homicides, and the question we must ask ourselves is: Why is Alabama failing to protect its most vulnerable?
These heartbreaking murders often occur after repeated incidents of abuse go unreported, or worse, after charges are dismissed. The recent arrest of State Rep. Tracy Estes, R-Winfield, on a third-degree domestic violence charge only adds to the growing concerns. Estes, a two-term legislator who prides himself on his “family values” platform, represents a government that seems all too comfortable sidestepping domestic violence issues. While Governor Kay Ivey has allocated millions to support victim programs, the state legislature remains woefully silent on this deadly issue.
The statistics speak for themselves, and they paint a grim picture. Nearly half of the women murdered in Alabama between 2020 and 2022 were victims of domestic violence, according to the Alabama Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Alabama ranks among the top five states for women killed by men, with a shocking 2.32 women per 100,000 murdered by male perpetrators. These are not just numbers; these are lives lost—lives that could have been saved.
Behind every statistic is a woman whose cry for help went unheard, whose fear was met with indifference. And it is this indifference that has allowed domestic violence to fester in Alabama, turning homes into deadly battlegrounds.
According to the CDC, one in four women in Alabama will experience severe intimate partner violence in her lifetime. This violence isn’t just about bruises or broken bones—it’s about fear, isolation, and the very real possibility that it could end in death. In rural counties, domestic violence shelters are often nonexistent, leaving women with nowhere to turn. Even in urban centers like Birmingham and Huntsville, resources are stretched thin, leaving survivors in limbo, waiting for help that may come too late.
The state’s system is failing—there’s no way around it. Advocates argue that Alabama’s domestic violence crisis isn’t just a crisis of safety; it’s a crisis of accountability. The lack of urgency in addressing domestic violence is costing lives, and it’s clear the system is built more to preserve the status quo than to protect the vulnerable. That status quo is killing women.
Federal funds, like those provided by the Violence Against Women Act (VAWA), have been critical. Alabama has received its share of grants to aid victim services, train law enforcement, and prosecute offenders. But it’s not enough. Shelters remain overwhelmed, law enforcement remains undertrained, and victims face perilous delays for protection orders. The problem is far deeper than money—it’s cultural, and it’s legislative.
The COVID-19 pandemic only made things worse. Calls to domestic violence hotlines in Alabama increased by nearly 30 percent during the lockdowns. Women were trapped in their homes with their abusers, with no way to escape. And while we may be moving past the worst of the pandemic, the emotional and physical scars left behind will haunt survivors for years to come.
The solutions are not mysterious. Advocates have been calling for expanded shelter availability, particularly in rural areas, and stronger protections against domestic abusers. Enforcing gun restrictions on abusers is a start. But what we really need is a legislature that cares about the lives of women in this state. Yet, too many lawmakers seem more concerned with political grandstanding than with meaningful reform.
Time is running out. For the women of Alabama, every day without action is another day that could end in tragedy. We cannot continue to let their voices go unheard, their pleas for help ignored. The system must change—now.
The state’s response has been lukewarm at best, and the longer we wait, the more lives we put at risk. Alabama must make the safety and dignity of all its residents a priority. The lives of women across this state depend on it.
The cries for help grow louder by the day. Will our lawmakers finally listen? Or will we continue to let silence be the answer?
