“Viewpoints” is a place on Chapelboro where local people are encouraged to share their unique perspectives on issues affecting our community. All thoughts, ideas, opinions and expressions in this series are those of the author, and do not reflect the work, reporting or approval of 97.9 The Hill and Chapelboro.com. If you’d like to contribute a column on an issue you’re concerned about, interesting happenings around town, reflections on local life — or anything else — send a submission to [email protected].
When Silence Replaces Safety, What Comes Next?
A perspective from Krista Zelt Caraway
I moved to Orange County with hopes, dreams, and a belief in safety in 2011.
Like many families — especially those raising or caring for disabled people — I chose this community because of its values. I believed this was a place that understood inclusion, accountability, and collective care.
What I encountered instead was silence.
Not disagreement.
Not engagement.
Silence — across systems, organizations, and community spaces that publicly state a commitment to justice and protection.
Over the past few years, I have experienced a documented failure of processes intended to safeguard a nonspeaking disabled person and resident of Orange County. I followed established procedures. I cooperated fully. I asked for review, clarity, and opportunities for repair. I showed up consistently and in good faith.
What followed was not dialogue, but isolation.
I want citizens to understand what this looks like in real life.
In Orange County, three disabled domestic violence survivors — across two generations — spoke up about harm and safety concerns. None are named here, but our experiences are real and documented.
Each of us encountered a similar pattern:
Requests for help were met with delay or deflection. Material supports and basic assistance were withheld or refused. Community spaces that once felt welcoming became inaccessible through exclusion or silence.Meanwhile, those who caused harm retained influence, credibility, or control within systems and social networks.
Speaking up did not lead to protection.
It led to loss — of support, of community, and of trust in the systems meant to help.
This pattern matters because it is not rare when disability and domestic violence intersect. Disabled people — particularly those who are nonspeaking, dependent on caregivers, or socially isolated — face significantly elevated risks of abuse. That harm does not always look dramatic or obvious. It often looks like control, isolation, coercion, and systems that fail to recognize warning signs or intervene appropriately.
When communities are unprepared to recognize this intersection, survivors are left exposed — and those who speak up may be quietly pushed out.
Recently, during a public meeting, a sitting member of the Human Relations Commission suggested that I may need to hire an attorney.
I want to be very clear: I do not want an attorney.
I do not want to be litigious.
I do not want to go to court.
For disabled people and survivors of domestic violence, litigation is often re-traumatizing. It requires reliving harm, defending credibility, and navigating adversarial systems that demand time, money, and emotional capacity many families do not have.
I am not seeking punishment or escalation.
I am seeking learning, accountability, and repair.
When families who have followed every process are told — implicitly or explicitly — that legal action is the only remaining path, it raises a troubling question:
Is there truly no way for systems to listen, reflect, and improve without forcing survivors into further harm?
I am placing this here — publicly — as a final plea made in good faith.
I want Orange County to listen to lived experience.
I want our institutions, nonprofits, parent groups, and leaders to recognize where gaps exist and how they can be addressed. I want us to work together to ensure that speaking up leads to protection — not punishment.
What I am asking for is repair and reform — not deflection and exclusion.
Repair looks like listening without retaliation.
Reform looks like examining where processes failed and strengthening them so disabled people are protected the first time.
Neither requires litigation. Both require courage.
Deflection pushes responsibility sideways.
Exclusion isolates those who speak up.
And silence ensures the same harm will happen again — to another family, another disabled person, another survivor.
Please listen.
Please learn.
Please choose repair over avoidance and reform over reputation management.
Be a safe place.
Be a friend.
Be an ally.
I am ready to work together.
When I see the sign on I-40 that says ‘Welcome to Orange County — You’ll Be a Fan for Life,’ I’m asking us to choose repair and reform over deflection and exclusion — and actually make that promise true.
“Viewpoints” on Chapelboro is a recurring series of community-submitted opinion columns. All thoughts, ideas, opinions and expressions in this series are those of the author, and do not reflect the work or reporting of 97.9 The Hill and Chapelboro.com.
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