A group of women portraying “The Weeping Women” as a form of pain from and repudiation of the femicides that occur in the country and in the region. Photograph by Jessie Insfran Pérez, used with permission. The following text is an abridged, edited republication of Kurtural's “The Epidemic of Violence Against Women in Paraguay,” an article that forms part of the series #PorSerMujer (#ForBeingWoman), which describes and denounces the crisis of violence against women in Paraguay. The majority of the names were changed to protect individuals’ privacy. A police commissioner told Ada Báez that she could do nothing to Luis Balbuena, her former partner who was violent toward her while they were dating. Time had passed since their relationship ended, and the police said her testimony would go on the record, but that was about it. When another woman came forward accusing Balbuena of abuse, the record of Báez's complaint didn't make any difference. A few days later, the second woman withdrew her complaint altogether. Breaking the cycle of violence against women is difficult. Generally speaking, when women actually do file a complaint, they do not receive support from the state. In many instances, women are also financially dependent on the men abusing them, which helps explain why only 20 percent of women who say they endure violence actually come forward to law enforcement. It's not easy to determine exactly how many women are being abused, says Myrian González, a researcher specialized in gender issues at the Center of Documentation and Studies, a social sciences research institute. “There are various data and records that don't allow for even an approximation of the extent of the gender violence against women in Paraguay,” she states. The figures that are available, however, are startling. In 2015, 70 percent of the 9,600 domestic-violence reports that came before the District Attorney dealt with violence against women. Of reports filed with the police, 86 percent were brought by women. There were more than 5,000 domestic-violence reports filed with the Peace Court — again, 86 percent were made by women. In those reports, 40 percent of women said they'd suffered physical abuse, and 55 percent of women said they'd been subjected to psychological abuse. These statistics, however, fail to capture fully the scale of violence against women in Paraguay. According to the country's minister for women, Ana Baiardi, these crimes go widely under-reported. “For each woman who reports psychological abuse in Paraguay, there are nine who do not. For each woman who reports physical abuse, there are two who do not,” she said in late 2014. The lack of a penal category specifying femicide impedes law enforcement from recording properly how many Paraguayans are murdered annually by their current or former romantic partners. Until August, journalists recorded at least 12 different femicides in Paraguay. The coordinator of human rights in Paraguay documented at least 37 women murdered by partners, past and present. She estimates sexist violence claims the life of one woman in Paraguay every ten days. Sign reads, “Without complicity, there is no impunity. #NotOneLess” Photograph by Jessie Insfran Pérez, used with permission. Before Mariana Brítez could become Carlos Vera's girlfriend, he insisted that she tell him everyone she'd ever dated previously. She wasn't too keen on the idea, but she eventually gave in, and lived to regret it. Twenty-eight years old today, Mariana isn't dating Carlos anymore, but for two years she endured his psychological abuse — one of the most common types of violence against women, and one of the hardest to detect: Nunca pensé que yo pudiera ser una víctima de violencia. Cuando leía sobre eso, pensaba que les pasaba a algunas mujeres por sumisas, por dejarse engañar por hombres violentos. Estaba convencida de que eso nunca me iba a pasar. I never thought I could be a victim of abuse. When I would read about it, I would think that this happens to some women because of their submissiveness — because they let themselves be fooled by violent men. I was convinced that this would never happen to me. Mariana used social media to report Carlos Vera's abuse. Without giving names or surnames, she wrote on Facebook, describing his insults, the isolation he subjected her to, and his various attacks throughout their two-year relationship. Plenty of people responded to her Facebook posts, including Carlos himself, who asked her rhetorically if he'd ever raised his hand against her, refusing to accept that his treatment of her amounted to abuse. Others on Facebook asked Mariana why she put up with Carlos and didn't leave him sooner.