by KRISTINA RIM BARTEK
We celebrated Jung’s graduation with cake, Korean food and many warm wishes. Jung and her son David (pseudonyms) entered our domestic violence transitional shelter facilities a year-and-a-half earlier and were now ready to move into their own apartment. Seeing Jung and David’s bright smiles, one would never have guessed the unspeakable violence and suppression they narrowly escaped just a couple years before.
As a victims advocate working with Asian American and immigrant domestic violence survivors, I have met many Korean families with horrific histories of abuse. The women would stay with abusive husbands for years and only leave when something unimaginable happened, like nearly being killed with a kitchen knife—which is what happened to Jung. But the survivors’ stories also offered room for hope. I found that women could decide to make new lives for themselves and their children. It would take courage, but they could leave their abusive husbands and live without violence and constant fear of reprisal. They could laugh when they wanted, they could dress the way they wanted, they could get take-out rather than cook after a long day. They could have self-determined lives.
For me, the survivors’ stories hit home. When I was 12 years old, my mother told me that my aunt was in the hospital because my uncle broke her arm and three ribs. I remember thinking, “I hope she gets better soon,” but not much more. Women in my life were frequently subjected to intense emotional and physical abuse. These assaults seemed to be a part of regular communication and emotional self-expression. For a long while, I never fully acknowledged there was violence in my family.
By my young adult years, I eventually did come to recognize domestic violence for what it was and deliberately made sure that it would not be part of my life. I had only non-violent relationships. But I found it was impossible to avoid such violence entirely. Late in my college years, I lived in an apartment next to a Korean American couple with two small daughters. At night I frequently heard the man shouting, things being broken, and terrified children crying. In the hallway, when the woman and I ran into each other, we would chat cordially, and then we would be on our way. I wasn’t going to stick my nose into someone else’s business. Even though I decided to reject violence from my life, I felt no need to object to the violence happening a few feet away. In a way, I accepted it.
The very values that make Korean culture resilient and beautiful—respecting others, the importance of family, upholding traditions—can also be interpreted in unhealthy ways, leading people to think, for example, that violence is normal. Domestic violence is a major issue in our community. According to the Los Angeles City Attorney’s Office, Koreans comprise the majority of Asian domestic violence cases in the region.
Tragically, even though some cases result in death, Koreans are one of the least likely ethnic groups to report abuse. The shame and stigma of reaching out for help may be a result of our cultural upbringing. It may be because community leaders are hesitant to confront the issue publicly, fearing that it could reflect poorly on the community. But rather than writing off domestic violence as a private issue or a problem for the authorities, we must work to stop violence in our daily lives. We shouldn’t have to watch a video of an athlete assaulting his fiancée to feel outraged. Not until we as individuals reject violence will society follow suit.
From time to time, I think about the family that lived next to me during college. I wonder what would have happened if I had done something. If I had asked the woman if she and her girls were OK, or had just shown some concern, could I have made a difference? Perhaps she would have thought, “This isn’ t right. Things need to change.”
Kristina Rim Bartek is the director of the Asian Pacific Women’s Center, a social service agency that provides housing and other support services to victims of domestic violence. To find out more about APWC’s services or to get involved in the movement to stop domestic violence, call (213) 250-2977 or visit www.apwcla.org.
This article was published in the October/November 2014 issue of KoreAm. Subscribe today! To purchase a single issue copy of the magazine issue, click the “Buy Now” button below. (U.S. customers only. Expect delivery in 5-7 business days).
