With the 2024 US election culminating in a Republican trifecta at the federal level, those of us across the nation advocating for universal paid leave policy in the US certainly shouldn’t expect it to come to fruition at least for the next two years, likely more . In fact, it’s a fair assumption that anything disproportionately impacting women and families falls squarely in the incoming administration’s crosshairs as something to make worse for us, not better.
Just as we did during the first Trump administration, we must push state and local governments not only to protect what progress we’ve made across issue areas, but to continue paving the way for equity and dignity as our systems are far from perfect as they stand. When it comes to paid leave, while we see progress in some state and local governments, our advocacy must now pivot to those yet to follow suit in the absence of any federal policy — and in doing so, we must include paid safe leave for survivors of sexual and intimate partner violence, because just like any other protective policies, our dignity shouldn’t depend on where we live or work, and in this case, where we experience life altering trauma.
A few years ago, I had the ability to take paid safe leave from my job after a man raped me. It was a physically and emotionally grueling time for many reasons, including that I decided to pursue justice. Like so many other survivors, I found the aftermath — including that very pursuit — nearly as and in some ways more traumatic than the assault itself.
When I sought help, even the people with the best intentions seemed adamant about communicating only through interrogation — of my credentials, my life choices, anything that would neatly place me in the category of worthy or unworthy of their time. My schedule quickly filled with trips to Special Victims and to medical facilities, then calls with lawyers and more doctors. The assault also caused an infection, and my entire body hurt for weeks. I oscillated between the anxiety of retelling the same story countless times and crashing into what felt like a forced sleep afterwards. I soon relapsed into disordered eating and developed an acute stress response in the form of a vestibular migraine and the worst and longest vertigo of my life. For days, I could only get around my apartment crawling, eyes closed.
The one saving grace was that I had access to paid safe leave from work, a form of leave specifically for people contending with the threat or the event of sexual or intimate partner violence, trafficking, or stalking. Because New York City amended its Paid Sick Leave Law to include safe leave in 2018, I could address multiple immediate health needs, continue cooperating with detectives on my case, and take care of myself as best I could — without the added stress of risking my job, and thus my ability to keep a roof over my head.
Paid safe leave proved to be a form of justice in and of itself, protecting my financial stability in an otherwise chaotic time, and without it, I never would have been able to pursue justice in the way I eventually did. But as of last year, New York City is one of just 17 cities that mandates this kind of paid leave; if I’d lived or worked in North Carolina or Florida for example — neither of which has state laws to guarantee paid sick or safe leave, nor any cities or counties with municipal laws — I would have been forced to make the impossible but very real decision between working through physical and mental anguish or forfeiting pay to take leave. And while I had the privilege of being employed full time with a good salary, benefits, and access to information, this is far from reality for lower income survivors already more likely to experience poverty, homelessness, and thus cycles of more violence.
For this reason alone, as advocates move our focus to push for paid leave across states and municipalities, we must explicitly include low-barrier safe leave for survivors in those efforts. The Institute for Women’s Policy Research compiled data in 2017 on the economic cost of intimate partner violence, sexual assault, and stalking in which surveys showed survivors of stalking losing an average of 10 days of paid work per year and rape survivors losing an average of 8 days. Other studies found that survivors often paid more than 25% of their corresponding medical and mental health costs out of pocket. Women of color lack health insurance coverage more than their white and male counterparts, and paired with the increased likelihood of experiencing pay disparities, housing insecurity, and other glaring inequities, those out of pocket payments eat into already lower wages, which in many cases are reduced to no wages at all for time off.
Without paid leave, survivors of sexual violence are left to fend largely for themselves. And because women and women of color, especially of lower incomes, are most likely to experience violence and face the steepest potential health and economic impacts as a result, failure to provide guaranteed paid leave hits the most institutionally marginalized among us the hardest.
With paid safe leave and minimal barriers to accessing it, this picture dramatically shifts from one of overwhelming hopelessness to one with the potential for safety and stability at its most consequential.
Certainly any paid leave plan carries a cost; states and cities have spent significantly on implementing their own plans thus far, largely through employer-funded means. But considering the costs of losing entire populations from the workforce and further solidifying cycles of poverty — not to mention the inherent disregard for people’s dignity and wellbeing — paid safe leave provides priceless relief to those facing the threat or experiencing the aftermath of violence. Paid safe leave is not only worth whatever costs come with it; it’s a simple but invaluable investment in our lives when we need that affirmation more than ever.
Though it feels absurd to refer to anything during that time in my life as a privilege, having paid safe leave was just that — but it shouldn’t have been, and it doesn’t have to be. Paid safe leave should be available to everyone who needs it, as soon as they need it. With dashed hopes of passing any federal paid leave policy in the near future, our advocacy must focus on pushing state and local governments to do so, and to include safe leave for survivors in those efforts.
Whatever the incoming federal administration has in store, the least state and local governments can do is keep their foot on the gas for progress with highly accessible paid leave policies in their jurisdictions. For survivors, this means ensuring that no matter where we live or work, we don’t have the compounded fear of losing our job in the aftermath of violence — and we deserve nothing less.
About the author: Sara Rodriguez is a communications and public affairs professional as well as an advocate for women, girls, and survivors of sexual and gender-based violence. She is a 2024 Public Voices Fellow of The OpEd Project and Equality Now and the Director of Communications at the New York Legal Assistance Group (NYLAG). Learn more about Sara and her work via her website.
