I’m in my late twenties.
When I was 5 years old,
Something happened that made me quite mad at my parents.
I saw baba beating mama.
I remember sitting on the floor in their room crying,
terrified of the violence I was witnessing.
She fell next to me when he was beating her.

He knocked me to the floor of our home,
And kept punching me in the stomach,
Threatening to chop my hair off.
No one came to my rescue,
So I decided to leave.

My father used to beat me up when I was young, and he still does until this day.
My brother learned to be violent with me from him. He beats me up over trivial reasons, and sometimes without any reason at all.
I suffered from depression when I was 11 years old from all the things I’ve been through.
domestic violence, gender violence, physical violence, parents, depression, suicide

I was running to get away from him.
I was running so I wouldn't get kidnapped in the dark.
It’s as if the world decided to stand against me.
I hopped in a minibus,
And I don’t remember what happened after.

I had a recurring dream when I was young,
That my mother wasn’t actually my mother,
And that my father was married to another woman,
Who looked exactly like my mother.
I don’t know why I kept having this dream.
Maybe because my mother was very hard on me,
And my father was kind.
Everyone used to say that he spoiled me.
But I didn’t see it that way.
He used to shout all the time,
And my mother used to hit me,
So I’d grow up to be a proper housewife.

When I got engaged,
He would routinely humiliate me in front of my fiancé.
When you do so in front of him,
He’ll do the same to me when we’re married,
And that’s eventually what happened.
domestic violence, gender violence, physical violence, parents, divorce, marriage

I’m a country girl, unfortunately.
I am 27 years old.
I’ve been getting beaten up and humiliated since I was 3 years old.
I remember every blow, and the pain.
I still have scars on my body,
That serve as a constant reminder.

I’m 27 years old. When I was 19, I left my mother’s place, taking my sisters along with me, and went to stay at my father’s.
We left because mother used to beat and belittle us.
In her mind, she owned us. She educated us. We belonged to her.

Why hit me for peeing myself,
When she could’ve tried to figure out why I was struggling with it?
Why hit me for putting on lipstick as a child,
When she could’ve just told me not to?
Why hit me with belts, cables and shoes,
When she could’ve reasoned with me?

I don’t know how else to put it,
Other than that my father,
Is the cause of my affliction.
He spent his life cheating on my mother with other women.
She had no one but him.
She always tried to please him.