My decision to seek a deeper understanding of my family’s trauma history and my father's role in it led to a series of profound and heartfelt conversations with my father that completely transformed my perception of my dad and instilled in me unconditional compassion for the struggles he faced. Was my father responsible for his abusive behaviour? Absolutely, yes. The co-existing truth is that no man, indeed no person, is equipped to deal with the emotional and psychological fallout of an incest- survivor in denial. The pain, confusion, rejection and humiliation he suffered in private because he did not have knowledge of my mother’s unresolved trauma and took her actions as a personal assault rather than the silent cries for help they were, ate away at him for two decades while he tried desperately to self-medicate with the socially acceptable drug that was most accessible to him – alcohol. In 1993, when I was 15 years old, my mother attempted suicide, and my father due to his violence, was vilified and blamed for this. After my mother's suicide attempt and during institution, it emerged that she had been a victim of paternal incest. The abuse had endured for four years, from the age of 9 to 13, until my grandfather eventually abandoned the family. My mom had suffered unimaginably yet somehow managed to maintain her kindness and grace. My mother was 19 when I was conceived, and they married before my birth in accordance with the societal norms of that time. According to my parents' account, my conception was intentional. the subsequent year-long internment in a psychiatric
They desperately wanted to escape their respective homes and build a life together. However, when my parents married, my father, at the age of 21, had no internal resources to navigate a relationship with a severely wounded woman who had not yet acknowledged or began to process the impact of the childhood incest she had survived. At the time, he was totally unaware of this fact. There was nothing in his world that could have prepared him for the unexpected challenges he faced as a young husband. My father was hardworking and diligent. He seized any opportunity for advancement that his job offered to young men of colour in the 1980s and 1990s, eventually reaching a senior management position. My mother became a homemaker when my sister was born in 1981 and returned to the workforce around 1995. Over the years, my mother’s mental health declined which was mirrored by an escalation in my father’s drinking habits and increased volatility. We judged his drinking and violence based on what we saw and experienced, all of which was real. My dad was a perpetrator of domestic violence. Yet there was another side to the story, the things that were hidden from the children, witnessed only by my parents, neither of whom had the tools to recognise my mother’s behaviour as a trauma response. He viewed himself as the victim, and legitimately so, given he had no idea of the true context. Two realities co-existing, side by side. Through numerous deeply compassionate and loving conversations with my dad, he revealed that, for at least the first 15 years of their marriage, he had been completely unaware of my mother's history of having been sexually abused. He shared with me, tears silently streaming down his face, how my mother would have nightmares about the abuse and wake up beating him in their bed. He described how she would appear eager for intimacy one moment, only to swear at him, belittle, reject, and verbally abuse him, driving him away like a dog the next. This gradually eroded his sense of value and self-esteem.
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November 2023 | Collective Action Magazine
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