By Kathleen Richards
Illustration by Eunice Choi
Each has a name. First and last. But, for safety reasons, most won’t share them here.
They have been kicked, slapped, hit and choked. Often, the physical violence was accompanied by emotional, verbal and sexual abuse — even threats of deportation. Each was robbed of a sense of security, self-esteem and happiness.
They are survivors of domestic violence. All female. All ethnically Korean. Some were children when the abuse occurred. Others are mothers who felt ashamed they could not shield their children from violence. While they may not reveal their names, they are sharing their stories in hopes that someone might benefit; that if others relate, they might also be inspired to seek help, and know that there is help whether or not they have a green card, a job or can speak English.
Extensive research has shown that domestic violence does not discriminate based on ethnicity, class, education, religion or nationality. And in recent years, several high-profile cases of murder-suicide, in which the family patriarch killed or attempted to kill his wife, children and then himself — including three incidents in one week in Los Angeles in April 2006 alone — have brought more attention to the severity of domestic violence in the Korean American community. While many have endured abuse in silence, increasingly, there are more resources for the community to access.
Organizations such as Shimtuh (or “Resting Place”), a domestic violence program in Oakland, Calif.; Korean American Women in Need (KAN-WIN) in Chicago, Ill.; and the Korean American Family Service Center (KAFSC) in Los Angeles not only provide comprehensive services for survivors of domestic abuse, but also are sensitive to the unique set of challenges facing Korean Americans, especially immigrant women.
Thus, we are able to present here in their own words, the perspectives of those engaged in the struggle against domestic violence: advocates who aid survivors, a city attorney who once prosecuted such crimes, a former counselor for a batterers’ treatment program, a pastor and a minister who believe they, too, play a role in a community for whom the church is a major influence.
And, of course, thanks to the staff at KAN-WIN who provided KoreAm with unsigned testimonials translated from Korean, the survivors themselves.
These are their voices.
The Survivor
“I was scared to death.”
— Anonymous, from 2005 (Courtesy of KAN-WIN)
My husband came home drunk and started an argument almost every night. No matter how much I tried to please him, he would make something out of nothing and verbally abuse me. Very often, he would corner me and punch me. No matter how much I tried to defend myself, it was not easy to fight back against an adult man. I felt ashamed that I was beaten and insulted, helpless in front of my own children.
This repeated crisis every night was much more challenging for me to bear than financial difficulties. It was more than a nightmare — it was something that I could not escape.
Ironically and sadly, what made me more miserable than the broken teeth and bruises all over my body was the fact that this house of nightmares was the only place my children and I could rely on. Still, I have anxiety. If someone screams, or if I see my husband even a few blocks away, my body spontaneously shrinks back.
I was afraid of meeting people at that time. My terribly limited financial situation and abusive marital relationship depressed me and even prevented me from seeing people with any sense of self. Because of these feelings, it took me a great amount of time and courage to seek help. When you ask for help from others, above all else, you need to share every detail of your personal life. I was scared to death, so I often considered committing suicide. I desperately wondered how I could possibly manage my life with nothing except my children.
Fortunately, thanks to an acquaintance, I took a chance by calling the Korean American Women In Need. At first, I did not know what kind of help this organization could provide. I also worried about the possibility of having to deal with complex legal proceedings if I received help.
KAN-WIN understood my situation. I was able to apply for a government subsidy/grant and also for a low-income housing program. They also helped me find a dentist for my broken teeth at no charge, and I had the opportunity to see a professional counselor on a regular basis.
I was able to spend more time with my children and take care of them, better than ever before. I started to feel less guilty about not having been a good mother. …
If you are one of those women who cry over miserable lives all day and night in this unfamiliar society, if you do not have enough money to get medical treatment, if you feel terrified of going to the hospital because any kind of record automatically gets your husband arrested, or if you do not have anywhere to turn after your abusive husband locks you out of the house, I urge you not to feel like you have to be scared, and to seek help. Merely knowing that help is available and acquiring important information can be an inspiring experience.
The Survivor
“It was not living; rather, it was a state of dying.”
— Anonymous, from 2001 (Courtesy of KAN-WIN)
I am 66 years old, a third-generation Korean Chinese, born and raised for 60 years in the land of China. Old as I was, I always had a young girl’s dream deep inside me: a dream to explore the unknown. That dream finally came true. At age 60, I stepped onto the land of America, alone but fearless.
I first arrived in San Francisco, a truly beautiful city. It was also the place that would completely change my life ahead. There, I met a man with whom I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life. I followed him to Chicago, and that was the beginning of a bitterness that I had never experienced nor imagined would grow inside myself.
As soon as he woke up, he would begin to drink, and he would drink all day, every day. When he was drunk, what came out of his mouth were tales of sexual encounters with prostitutes and other women. To him, the existence of a wife had no significance other than as a sexual object. That is how he treated me.
I lived with that man for a year and a half. It was not living; rather, it was a state of dying. At night, even though I would protest or was in pain, he would do everything imaginable to me. And when morning came, he ignored me. I felt that if I continued to live in this situation, I would soon forget my own language.
He was also very cruel and denied me proper nourishment. One day, he frightened me with his anger because I had eaten five pieces of cucumber in four days. Or, he would deliberately buy dated bread and other cheaper food items for my meals. Still, he would yell, “Only Americans can eat this food, how dare you eat this!”
I felt I could endure this denial of physical sustenance. Yet, the sexual and emotional violence were unbearable. If I refused, he would threaten: “No green card, go back to China.” He used the green card as if that was his last weapon, a weapon to rule over a woman.
It was when I was completely lost, worn out and vulnerable that I found Korean American Women in Need. Had they not been there, I could not have survived to write this story today. KAN-WIN staff trusted me, listened to me and protected me when I told them about my hardships.
After my husband abandoned me and left me homeless, they secured housing for me. I did not know how to speak English, but I lived with Americans for nearly two years. I moved into a low-income senior housing apartment and started to do the things I wanted. I took computer classes in Korean and Chinese at two different community centers.
Now I am using my newfound computer skills to document my life story. I am not a good writer, but I write with the hope that my story will be of some help to other women.
Postscript: In January 2002, this survivor received her green card through the Violence Against Women Act.
The Advocate
“For an immigrant woman, the challenges and barriers she faces are overwhelming.”
— Isabel Kang, Program Director, Shimtuh, Oakland
For many of us working in the field of violence against women, especially within immigrant communities, it becomes very frustrating to work with the existing systems addressing the issue of domestic violence. Police officers, sheriff’s departments and law enforcement in general are ill-equipped to handle calls from non-English-speaking communities. They are not trained enough in the issue of violence against women.
Only recently have they made progress in even the most basic procedure of separating the couple and interviewing them separately in different spaces for any calls involving domestic violence. When it comes to the barriers immigrant women face in this country, including immigration status and language, the criminal justice system has not made much progress. We have actually seen an increase in the arrest of immigrant women mainly due to the lack of language access.
Somehow, law enforcement officers end up writing reports mostly based on the accounts of batterers who often speak English better than their spouses. This poses a great problem for the victims since the D.A.’s office makes a decision to prosecute a crime based on what has been written in the initial police report.
Then, we are still facing a lack of competent, effective, ethical court interpreters who have training in domestic violence. I once had to stop a court interpreter in mid-process when I realized this particular male interpreter was advising the victim to drop charges against the abuser when he was supposed to be unbiased.
Usually, abusers have been in this country longer, or are from the United States, and have contacts, family members and other important resources for their own successful legal outcome. They are more familiar with the system. What does she have? She doesn’t know she has a right not to be hit, or controlled, or to be kept like a slave in her own home. She doesn’t know where to go for help.
She’s afraid no one is going to believe her. She is afraid she’ll get deported because the abuser had told her that. She is afraid of never seeing her children again. With her lack of proficiency in English, she doesn’t think she can get a job and support herself and her children. Her fears are not unfounded. More women become homeless in this country due to domestic violence than for any other reason.
For an immigrant woman, the challenges and barriers she faces are overwhelming. During the course of almost 18 years in this field, I saw many women return to their abusers, and sometimes, some perished in the hands of their abuser. Given the spectacular amount of difficulties she is facing, I could never blame them when they return for lack of options.
However, when I see many more women still escaping their abusers, and by perseverance and their sheer desire to live, they are now free of violence and better able to bring up their children without the abuse, I can’t help but feel this great sense of awe, and admire their courage and resiliency. Every day, women under siege in their homes in this undeclared war teach me great lessons of survival.
The Advocate
“Victims can be empowered to pursue self-sufficiency.”
— Kyungnan Yu, Former Executive Director,
KAN-WIN, Chicago (1991-2007)
Even if [survivors] are determined to leave the abusive situation, one very important reason they can’t go forward is there are a lot of barriers: namely language barriers, an unfamiliarity with mainstream legal systems (for example, residency status), and lack of vocational skills and access to other resources.
On top of these challenges, there can be a cultural stigma attached to leaving an abusive relationship if it means the woman explores divorce as an option. As a result, facing the reality that the victim might not only face opposition from her abuser, but also possibly from her community, makes it even more overwhelming to seek help in a domestic violence situation.
So all of the programs we offer to our clients are centered around providintg them options towards beginning a life of independence; from case management, medical and legal advocacy, to helping them acquire vocational and English-language skills, to transitional housing options where the clients can research their own possible places to live, and whatever else they need to thrive in the mainstream on their own. Victims can be empowered to pursue a life of self-sufficiency.
The Prosecutor
“It’s a learned behavior.”
— Robert Cha, Assistant Supervisor of Central Trials,
Los Angeles City Attorney’s Office
Domestic violence offenses are probably one of the most difficult offenses to prosecute because, the vast majority of times, the [victims] recant. They lie to protect their batterers. There are a lot of shared reasons with any domestic violence victim, which include emotional reasons: they often feel love for the batterer. There might be economic reasons: the husband is the sole breadwinner.
In Korean cases, there can be social stigma, shame you bring onto the family by airing your problems and immigration consequences. A lot of domestic violence victims have the false or incorrect belief that, if they cooperate with prosecution, their batterers — husbands or boyfriends — will go to jail for years. Where the reality is, in a majority of the cases, they’ll simply be put on probation or attend batterers’ treatment counseling, and just comply with the law.
There have been a number of incidents where pastors have accompanied the batterer and/or the victim to court and they advocate that the case shouldn’t be prosecuted. On more than one occasion, they have suggested to the victim that it is not conducive to break up the family. Victims already feel tremendous pressure, but when the perception is the church or God doesn’t want me to break the family apart by participating in publicly airing out a very intimate family problem, [that adds even more pressure].
My strong belief is that domestic violence is an escalating type of crime. As the violence gets more severe, the emotional trauma becomes more egregious, and the children are severely affected. There are a lot of studies that show that domestic violence that happens in front of the children affects them years or decades later. Sons often become batterers and the daughters gravitate toward abusive relationships.
We used to think it was the first generation [who is more likely to be the batterers] because, in Korea, domestic violence was not at all treated as a serious crime until an act was passed in the ‘90s. It was much more accepted in Korean society than here. But we’re seeing a lot of second-generation Koreans who don’t speak Korean at all. That leads us to believe it’s a learned behavior, as opposed to something that you learn in Korea and you import it. There’s probably an equal number of second-generation batterers as there are immigrant batterers.
The Former Counselor for Batterers
“Education is the best way to stop the violence in the next generation.”
— Peter Chang, Executive Director,
Korean American Family Service Center, Los Angeles
(As part of their sentence, convicted batterers must complete a one-year domestic violence treatment program like the one run by KAFSC. Chang formerly served as a counselor for this program.)
We have a one-year program, so during that time, [batterers] go through different stages. In the first stage, they deny any previous domestic violence in their life and they excuse or blame the spouse or society. In the second stage, they come on their own to the meeting, and share their life story and their relationship with their spouse. In the last stage, most of them take responsibility.
We average about 65 to 70 perpetrators per year. There are two groups: One group definitely stops the violence because of the strict law. The other group wants to change their lifestyle or their own violent personality. A majority change because of the law. Most of the perpetrators are first-generation Korean immigrants, and their age range is 40 to 60. So for them, a one-year program is not enough for them to change their lifestyle or their culture. It’s kind of their way of life. They know that it’s not right, but to change their behavior is very hard.
We’ve run this program for almost 12 years. [In that time], four or five people have come back a second time. One person has come back for a third time. … Education is the best way to stop the violence in the next generation.
The Pastor
“I have practiced putting my power aside with my wife and children.”
— Daeseop Yi,
Korean Presbyterian Church of San Francisco
After coming to America, I have experienced difficult situations because my academic study was very hard for me and I felt like a helpless child whenever I spoke English. This stressful situation made me worry about many things and sometimes angry at even small things. When I had a spiritual direction meeting, I asked which program was good for me to deal with this issue. My spiritual director recommended an anger management program. The program was for men who had been arrested because of domestic violence. Actually, I was shocked by the director’s explanation of what domestic violence is, and how the participants had been changed by that program.
Little by little, I was opened to the concept of domestic violence, got out of my narrow mind, and was changed by that because I realized how serious domestic violence is. I was so lucky to encounter this group. I thought, if I continued to live in Korea, I would have been arrested by the police according to this state’s law.
After that, I’ve been trying to put that power aside at home. It’s been a wonderful experience. For example, when my wife asks me to do something, usually my response is, “I don’t have time.” In Confucianism, as a father and as a man, children have to listen to me. I have noticed that. I have practiced putting my power aside with my wife and children, so I could feel more loving and intimacy. That training helped me in understanding not only violence, but my situation.
The Reverend
“What if this woman was my sister?”
— Haeran Kim, Community United Methodist Church, Naperville, Ill.
I began my involvement with KAN-WIN as a board member. At that time, KAN-WIN did not have a house. But having a shelter-type of house was very much in need. Because most Korean women who had to leave home did not want to go to a shelter run by Americans because of the language issue and cultural issues, they (often) go back to the abusive situation. So I was single at the time and I always had a parsonage with several extra rooms, so I thought, “Why not? Why not open my home?” So, for close to seven or eight years, people would come and go, and come and go.
Of course, I faced challenges. In American society, liability is an issue. They [the other heads of the church] said, “What if the woman’s husband comes with a gun?” So they pushed me to sign a paper to not do it anymore. I signed the paper, but verbally I said, “Tonight, if someone comes to me in an emergency, I cannot say no.”
I had a chance to talk to the women, the people who came, I had the chance to hear their real stories. Hearing their stories obviously made me think: What if this woman was my sister? Then, of course, I had to open my door. I didn’t really treat them as someone else. The parsonage is not my house. It’s the church’s. That means you can be the owner of this house, too. And that really helped me to understand the situation, not from the top of my head, but from my heart.
The Child Survivor
“Domestic violence is a community issue.”
— Elizabeth Suk,
Former Children’s Program Coordinator, Shimtuh, Oakland
I was in a situation where our father [who was abusive] was fairly well-known in the [Korean] community. My dad eventually left my mother for another woman. But when that happened, the community came to us and was like, “You need to do something to get him back.” I was like, “Are you kidding me?” I couldn’t believe the audacity of the community to say that, to say we should do this in order to make him a better man, when the responsibility should fall on him.
And having people actually say to me that, “Oh yeah, we knew all along what was going on in your family.” But they did absolutely nothing to stop it?
Koreans tend to [believe] what goes on in the family is regarded for the family. The family should make decisions around that. But in these instances, it’s not true. Because it could have saved our family a whole lot of heartache and a lot of pain if someone did step in and say it was wrong. And so then, I began to really think that domestic violence is a community issue. It’s not solely a family issue.
Facts That Hurt
– 31% of American women report being physically or sexually abused by a husband or boyfriend at some point in their lives. — Commonwealth Fund Survey, 1998
– In 92% of all domestic violence incidents, crimes are committed by men against women. — Violence Against Women, Bureau of Justice Statistics, U.S. Department of Justice, 1994
– In 1996, among all female murder victims in the U.S., 30% were slain by their husbands or boyfriends. — Uniform Crime Reports of the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation, 1996.
– A child’s exposure to the father abusing the mother is the strongest risk factor for transmitting violent behavior from one generation to the next. — Report of the American Psychological Association Presidential Task Force on Violence and the Family, APA, 1996
– Children of battered women are up to 15 times more likely than children overall to be physically abused and neglected, and girls with violent fathers are much more likely to be sexually abused. — American Bar Association, 1994
– Children who witness abuse are 50 times more likely to abuse alcohol and drugs, and six times more likely to commit suicide than children in the general population. — Courts and Communities Confronting Violence in the Family Conference, 1993
– One in five female high school students reports being physically or sexually abused by a dating partner. — Massachusetts Youth Risk Behavior Survey (YRBS), August 2001
