Often when someone says that they’re a part of Rise Above Violence, they hear something like this: “Oh, wow, you’re an advocate? I could never do that.”
And we get it. The work we do sounds heavy, and it can be. But what often gets missed in that reaction is this: Advocacy isn’t about having all the answers. It’s showing up and staying calm when everything else feels chaotic, being OK with silence, knowing what options exist, and giving someone the space to simply be as they are and then meeting them there, both literally and figuratively.
It’s not about showing someone the light at the end of the tunnel, but about sitting beside them in the dark until they’re ready to find their own way, and walking with them when or until they do.
And it’s knowing what to do, step by step, when the phone rings at 2 a.m.
This week, we want to show you what it really looks like when someone calls our hotline. Not just so that you understand what we do, but so you can see that, maybe, you could do it, too.
Advocacy can sound intimidating. But, at its core, it’s presence. Patience. Practice. It’s not about fixing someone’s life; it’s about being a steady voice when they need one most.
So, here’s what on-scene advocacy looks like, and how we bring this year’s Domestic Violence Awareness Month theme, “Walk With Survivors,” to life.
Step 1: The call. It starts with a phone call. After officers respond to a domestic violence incident, dispatch reaches out to Rise. The advocate on call, usually armed with nothing more than an officer’s name and number, is told to make contact. And, in that moment, somewhere between a half sleep and the sound of the phone, they already know: It’s probably time to get dressed and go.
Step 2: Initial assessment and scene safety. The next action is to contact the officer on scene. This is usually when the officer gives a brief overview of what happened: what brought them there, who’s involved and if the situation is still active.
In the background, you can often hear the hum of radios, voices moving in and out, the shuffle of papers and the urgency of an active call.
In that conversation, the focus shifts to safety and making sure that the person who caused harm has been arrested or removed, collecting key details and waiting for the “green light” to proceed. Sometimes the officer adds, “Actually, we’re headed to the hospital. Can you meet us there?”
Step 3: The first conversation. When the advocate arrives, the scene has usually settled, but the air still feels charged.
The first task is simple: connect.
They introduce themselves to the survivor. They explain why they’re there and that our services are confidential.
But, what does that actually mean?
It means that what someone shares with us stays sealed and as protected as a conversation with a lawyer or a priest. Unless a survivor gives explicit permission, we’re legally and ethically bound to keep what they tell us completely confidential. That kind of privacy isn’t just policy — it’s the foundation of trust.
After introductions, our tone is steady, never clinical, never rushed.
Maybe it sounds like: “Would you like to tell me a little bit about the history? You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. I’m here for you no matter what.”
Or, “However you’re feeling right now is completely OK. There isn’t a right or wrong way to feel after something like this”
Or, even more simply, “I believe you.”
These might sound like small gestures, but they mark a turning point. Sometimes, simply hearing “I believe you” is the most powerful thing a survivor can receive, especially when the world around them says otherwise. When an advocate affirms that what someone has experienced is abuse, it breaks through that cultural noise. It validates. It names. It matters. Because what we offer isn’t rescue — it’s choice.
This conversation has the power to shift everything. It tells someone who’s been monitored, silenced or made to doubt their own judgments that they still get to decide what happens from here. Because when survivors work with advocates, they’re more than twice as likely to leave abuse safely behind.
And that’s because advocacy works. It restores what abuse takes away: safety, autonomy and hope.
It’s the quiet return of self-determination and the ability to move through the world on your own terms again after having that taken from you. For some, it was only for a moment; for many, it’s been months, even years.
Step 4: Offering support, not pressure. Once the immediate crisis has passed, the role shifts toward systems navigation.
Advocates can help explain what comes after: protection orders, legal processes, housing, continued support. But every forward motion, and whether to take it at all, belongs to the person living it.
If someone isn’t ready to plan for safety or change, that’s OK. The advocate adjusts because advocacy isn’t about guiding anyone toward a specific decision, destination or outcome; it’s about ensuring that the survivor has accurate information, genuine options and the support to determine what’s best for themselves. That’s what we mean when we say agency.
Step 5: Laying a foundation for long-term help. Before leaving, the advocate makes sure the survivor knows how to reach Rise again.
An intake form is completed and securely shared with the team so that no one has to start their story from the beginning each time they reach out.
And, sometimes, this moment marks the end of our involvement — and that’s OK. That’s the beauty of autonomy: People get to decide whether they want to engage with our services or not.
Other times, it’s just the beginning of a longer relationship, one that might include housing support, legal advocacy, counseling referrals or simply a familiar voice checking in.
Each journey is its own version of success: the survivor deciding where to go from here, on their own terms.
Advocacy doesn’t always look heroic.
Most of the time, it’s simply human. One person showing up for another, sitting beside them in the dark until they’re ready to find their own way and walking with them when or until they do.
That’s what it means to walk with survivors.
The work is quiet, but the impact isn’t. One night. One call. One advocate. That’s how safety begins.
So, the next time you meet someone from Rise, maybe instead of thinking, “I could never do that,” you’ll think, “I could.”
Our advocates are here anytime at (970) 264-9075. Our hotline is confidential and available 24/7.
For more information on Rise, visit www.riseaboveviolence.org.
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