When home is not home sweet home

I read last week's 'Glimpse,' and noticed the statement by anonymous: "You never know what everyone is going through." I agree.

Reading that line, I got an urge to share my domestic violence experience, for someone to know what so many are going through — even at this moment as you read this. I am just another ordinary student in Princeton. Who would ever imagine that until I arrived here, everyday I would go home just to be beaten up by my brother? Who would ever have known that my family was often times a living hell because of my brother's violence?

I can't exactly recall when it all started. My family has been going through domestic violence by my brother for at least the past five or six years. Of course, there were some good moments when he could control his anger and not express it through violence.

But sadly, that was not always the case. If we said something wrong, or if he didn't like something that we did, he would chase us to a corner of a room — often the bathroom — so that we would have no place to run away. Then he would start beating us up.

The violence was always toward my mother and me, as he knew that we were not physically strong enough to overpower him. He would beat up my mother and me in all sorts of ways — shoving us into hard furniture, hitting, punching, kicking us, pulling our hair, throwing all sorts of things right in our faces and pulling out big kitchen knives to the extent that my mother would be bleeding from her face or my legs would be swollen from bruises. I recall my mother bleeding from her mouth because my brother hit her so many times, so hard, with a vacuum cleaner.

He threw burning soup at my face, and chopsticks, forks, batteries, remote controls, books, chairs and much more in one meal. There were times in P.E. class when I did not want to change because my friends would ask me about the very colorful bruises on my arms and legs. Many nights I had to run out of my house, crying and looking all ugly in my pajamas and glasses, because his violence and threats would get so bad that I just couldn't stay any longer.

People might wonder why I didn't fight back. Well, if I tried to get revenge, he would beat me up three or four times worse. I was frightened of him. My brother, who I have known for all my life, was truly evil when he was violent.

I don't know why it started, or what we could have done differently to make our family better, happier and healthier. Surviving within the family was of utmost importance, and I could not afford to think about improving my situation.

However, I do know how domestic violence changed the status of a family for me. I realized that an ideal family would give me unconditional support and love. But when domestic violence exists within a family, that unconditionally disappears. If I do something wrong, it would result in myself getting physically and emotionally hurt, and therefore, I could no longer be my natural self that I wanted to be within the family. My family was no longer a place to relax, be myself, and depend on other family members and thus support each other. The fear toward violence had overruled my family.

I am now at Princeton. I found someplace to run away from violence. But I can't help feeling guilty about leaving my father, my mother,and my brother in the battlefield. Each one of them is struggling every day. Imagine how many people in this world are afraid to go home tonight because they will be threatened and will cry all alone? Being beaten up by someone who is their foremost enemy and at the same time is one of their most closest loved one? Husbands, fathers and brothers expressing their emotions through violence?

I will tell you with my utmost confidence — domestic violence is sad. It completely destroys reliance and hope toward the very basis for each of us: Our family.

Responses or comments for the author can be sent to 'Prince' Executive Editor Rob Laset, at rplaset@princeton.edu.

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Common Spaces is a weekly page in the 'Prince' for community members to share their stories. If you would like to submit a personal account or commentary, please e-mail rplaset@princeton.edu.