We Are Not Broken

Introduction:

Domestic violence is not a private matter—it is a systemic crisis, especially for marginalized families. Native women are disproportionately targeted, with 84% experiencing violence in their lifetimes and more than half experiencing physical abuse by an intimate partner. Families like mine—diverse, disabled, and Indigenous—are often left unprotected. I am a Native woman and a mother to children with autism. One of my children is two-spirit. My family embodies resilience and cultural strength, but we have been shattered by a man who used violence and control to dominate our lives—and by a system that enabled him.

This essay tells our story, not just for justice for my family, but for every survivor silenced by an abuser who knows how to manipulate the system—and for every institution that failed to see us as worth protecting.

Part I: A Pattern of Violence and Manipulation

The man who entered our lives, Derek Franzen of Bend, Oregon, had a known history of violence. He was removed from his elderly mother’s home after attacking her and his aunt—violence that was brushed aside rather than taken as a warning. After relocating to Oregon, I became his next target. He presented himself as a victim, a master manipulator who gained sympathy only to control, isolate, and abuse. Once in our home, he quickly restricted access to my vehicle, removed my infant’s car seat so I could not leave, and used coercive control to keep me and my children trapped.

I was already physically vulnerable—on oxygen due to lung scarring from COVID—and his escalating control became a terrifying reality. The abuse extended beyond me. Our pets were harmed and killed. My neighbor’s pets were killed. My children, including those with autism, were targets of daily emotional and physical violence. This was not an isolated case of “domestic trouble”—this was sustained torture, especially against the most vulnerable.

Part II: A Culture of Silence and Systemic Failure

Children with disabilities are three to four times more likely to be abused than their non-disabled peers. My children were no exception. Derek refused to accept the children’s autism diagnoses, choosing instead to label them “brats” and “retards.” He treated their behaviors—rooted in sensory processing and communication differences—as personal attacks. My seven-year-old, who has autism, became his primary target. When Derek threw him to the ground by the face and hair, leaving visible injuries. DHS (Oregon Department of Human Services) refused to act, despite mandated reports and photographic evidence.

My then three-year-old daughter was shoved into a refrigerator so hard her ear was bloodied. Again, DHS took no action. Later this child—just five—was yelled at for telling the truth. Derek’s rage continued unchecked.

At one point, my autistic and now nine-year-old attempted to protect me by waving a lightweight plastic door piece at Derek. He snapped it over his knee and threw it—striking my three-year-old across the face while the child clutched a baby doll and cried out in confusion and fear. The situation ended with Derek pinning my preschooler to the couch and me being arrested—despite clear security footage, 911 audio, and physical evidence showing otherwise. The bruises, the trauma, the blood—none of it mattered.

The DA declined to press charges against me, but the damage was done. Derek kidnapped our child, took him into the woods, and stored firearms unsecured in a vehicle with a three-year-old. When returned, our child was bruised, sunburned, and suffering. His bangs had been cut to conceal a forehead injury—violating our cultural tradition of not cutting our hair. Still, DHS allowed Derek to be present for the child’s exam—and allowed him to describe where the injury occurred. Again, no action was taken.

Part III: Cultural Identity and Marginalization

My family is Native. We are survivors. We practice our culture. One of my children is two-spirit, and others are neurodivergent. These intersecting identities make us not only targets for abuse—but also for systemic neglect.

Indigenous women are murdered at rates more than 10 times the national average in some areas. Our missing and murdered Indigenous women (MMIW) crisis reflects a broader cultural devaluation of our lives. Add disability and gender diversity to the mix, and invisibility becomes fatal.

Too often, systems assume our stories are not credible. DHS deemed my 15-year-old “not reliable” and failed to examine her injuries. They ignored the clear signs of trauma in my younger children. My neurodivergent son still mimics Derek’s voice—repeating the words “You don’t need your mom, I’m not a fcking stranger.” His mimicry, a feature of his autism, captures everything the system ignored. He remembers everything. And yet he has never been interviewed by professionals. Never believed.

Part IV: The Call for Change

Domestic violence is not a one-time event—it’s a pattern, and often, it’s a community failure. It becomes a crisis when institutions like DHS allow known abusers continued access to children. It becomes a tragedy when law enforcement prioritizes ID addresses over clear evidence and lived experience. It becomes a national disgrace when Native women and disabled children are systematically ignored.

What must change:
1. Mandatory forensic interviews and medical exams for all children with visible injuries, especially when they have disabilities.
2. Mandatory cultural competency and trauma-informed care training for all DHS and law enforcement staff.
3. Recognition of autism-related communication styles and mimicked speech as valid evidence of trauma.
4. Increased protection for families reporting abuse by known, violent individuals—especially when children are autistic, disabled, or from Native and LGBTQ+ backgrounds.
5. Immediate consequences for FAPA violations and stalking behaviors—including using photos, location tracking, or intimidating court filings.

Conclusion:

We are not invisible. We are not unreliable. We are a Native family doing everything we can to survive. But survival shouldn’t mean being retraumatized every day by a system that refused to protect us. Our children are not liars. Our family deserves safety, dignity, and justice.

It’s time to stop pretending the system is broken. It’s functioning exactly as it was designed—to protect abusers and punish the marginalized. But that can change, and it starts by listening to survivors. All of us.

#JusticeForAutisticChildren #JusticeForIndigenousWomen #EndDomesticViolence #ProtectOurChildren #SupportSurvivors #MMIWG2S #BreakTheSilence #ReformDHS #BelieveSurvivors #DisabilityJustice