The official figures in the reports in 2016
There were 3,871 reporting cases of abused
children and youths, under 18 years, due to various reasons such as misbehaving
or unexpected events occurred in three months in 2016 reported by the Department
of Protective Services (Ministry of Health and Welfare, November 30, 2016).
According to the statistics of the Ministry of the
Interior, the number of abused children and adolescents in Taiwan has been on
the rise since 2006. Before that, the numbers of abusers were less than 10,000
each year. In 2012, 2013 and 2014, the numbers of abused children seemed
descending, 19,174, 16,322 and 11,589 respectively (Department of Health and
Welfare). But, there were 15,469 children and juveniles who lived in the shadow
of violence and were threatened by child abusers in 2015.
The key reason why there are more little children
under 6 are abused might be they won’t be found out if they don’t go to
kindergarten. After they reach six years old, they will be easily noticed by
the teachers if they are abused at home. That is of vital importance to have a
system to prevent those little children without abilities of expressing
themselves and with only fear of losing what is supposed to attach to. It is
apparently difficult to protect preschool children from abuse, especially ones
under two years old if the domestic violence to children hasn’t been leaked out
and then discovered by the outsiders.
The Department of Protected Services has also
revealed that abusers are mainly parents, followed by relatives or caregivers.
The common domestic violence to children or youths appears to be physical abuse
or worse like sexual abuse, mental abuse such as negligence and abandonment.
It is concluded that child abuse might be various
causes such as lack of knowledge of parental roles, education levels, illness,
marriage or family problems, economical stress like a low-income family on
living allowance, alcoholic or drug addiction, unemployment and so on (Department
of Health and Welfare, 2016).
The Fact
Sometimes the truth is not told and the hurt
remains forever in the heart of an abused child and of his/her siblings. It is
the parents who do evil under the veil of care and out of so-called discipline.
Child abuse doesn’t have to do with the above possible reasons offered by the
official figures in official reports, like education, income, etc. It is
something rooted in one’s attitude and personality or some other causes I
think. It
is of certain that every circumstance is different and its outcome should be unlike
too.
I ask myself whether or not things would have
turned out better if I’d called the police indeed. But, I am still doubtful
about this. How could I make a right decision and believe in what I tried to do
might fix the problems if they were too complicated to solve? In addition to
that, my parents were much more important beyond doubt than my younger brother
even though I felt terribly sorry for him. My brother didn’t ever meet
the standards as a good son.
Sometimes, I think of him and feel very sad but I
never call him or discuss this with him about what he suffered since he was so
little around four years old. I always try to forget about it – the truth.
I don’t think it is true that time
can heal all wounds. Things all
happened long ago but I kind of still feel what I felt back then. The memories of my mother’s disappointment are
vivid because I
could hear then a trace of sorrow when
she looked at and kissed me but sighed, “You are the third daughter,” gently rubbing
my cheek with her thumb. I recalled I was confused about what she whispered to
me. But, I knew she was not unhappy but just sad.
I never asked my mother if she had been regretful
for failing to give a son to my father and she had been the one to blame before
she gave birth to my younger brother.
It seemed a miracle to my parents to have a son
when I was three years old and my elder sisters were teenagers. It was my first
time to meet my paternal grandma when she came to join my parents and their
friends in celebration of the day my brother was one-month old. She was
thrilled and decided to stay with us in Taipei. She took me to the church on
Sundays for a couple years and often reminded me of it that she couldn’t
believe she was able to see her first grandson. She put a golden chain around the
fragile neck of my tiny baby brother. She said it was an amulet with blessing
from God she prayed to for years.
We were fine I thought and they loved us and never
discouraged us from access to higher education. I wondered they might never
expect us to turn out ones with a professional career, but a good marriage. We
were luckily left alone and my mother was so proud of us for following her
dream to be highly-educated.
I did understand my mother wanted to assure that
my younger brother would be a success in life and believed that the more he learned
the better one he would become. She never gave it a thought that he might
want different things from life and what efforts she put on wouldn’t do him any
favors.
It
was obvious that he was neglected and ended up a trouble maker and incapable of
anything meaningful. I thought if either of my parents was aware of his limits
of learning, noticed what he was interested in and showed him love instead of strict
discipline. If they did, my brother might have turned out as better a young man.
In
retrospect, I saw how disappointed my mother was when my brother gave a bright
big smile and said, “I got a lot of delicious cookies” on the first day after
he came home from the kindergarten. Again, my mother reminded him of what he
had really learned from school, but my brother just shrugged and looked
confused.
He
was punished to kneel down for a long while if he couldn’t recite the multiplication
table and made mistakes. It happened before he went to an elementary school. I
was sympathetic over what he was treated, and felt like crying when I was
around him. But I just walked away and pretended nothing wrong with that. The
truth was that I hadn’t been required to memorize the multiplication table
before I was taught at school.
When he was in the second year at the elementary
school, we moved down to the south. He was not far ahead in his class as
expected anymore but fell behind. They put pressure on him to be
something my younger brother was incapable of being.
He sneaked into my parents’ bedroom one
night and took money to run away from home when he was ten years old. It was still unbelievable how he made it to
find my elder sister, who studied at university in Taipei. By train and by
buses, how did he figure out? I thought he deserved at least
one chance at forgiveness, but he did not get it after he ran away the first
time. Matter-of-factly, he was worth so much more. After that, his promises not
to steal, not lie and run away were empty. He did on repeat.
I
wish I did not see my father at his worst when he lost his temper with my
brother to the point that I no longer recognized him as my father, who did love
me dearly. I couldn’t figure out how to cut the strings between loves and hate
when I thought what my parents did to my younger brother. But, the shame his misbehavior
brought on our family made me feel embarrassed and uncomfortable to chat with my
friends about siblings. I did not invite a friend to come to my home before I finished
my senior high school. What if my brother took her purse like he had done to
me? I kept thinking about the what-ifs. Once I even tried to justify what happened.
The
crying made my mind numbing and my soul crushing. I failed to have a calming presence at those moments when
my younger brother suffered whatever my father could bring to him. I did nothing
but shutting away myself in my room, and covering my ears. I kept myself busy
taking my mind off of the hurt from my brother’s groans of pain and concentrating
my studying.
I
was certain about it that sleepless nights would come to me if he disappeared again especially
at the unbearably cold and rainy nights. I tried to breathe in my nose and out
my mouth to calm down and get some sleep but at the same time I hoped I could
be alert in case the tapping on my window told me he needed me to open the door
for him.
Those
awful things repeated themselves. I wished my brother was still young enough to
bounce back from failure. But, he’d never done it until he found his wife. His lovely
children are growing up in a sweet, not abusive,
household. It is a blessing indeed, which must quiet the emotions of my brother
as a father. This makes me feel a sense of deep contentment.
The impact
I
repelled the thought of marriage when I was young and had no idea about what
kind of man I’d be looking for. I couldn’t assure of it if I could be a good
mother and a wife to accompany my husband. Was I given a level of maturity into
a situation to do what was best for my children?
What if what had
happened to my mother occurred in my own life? I convinced myself that love didn’t
appeal to me. How could I know I’d be ready to spread my wings for certain to
have my own ideal home? I wasn’t sure about I am able in a relationship that must
add to my responsibilities as a wife and then a mother, isn’t it? Besides, it
seemed to me that it was more of a burden than anything I thought. I could
never go out with someone since I didn’t see it going anywhere. How could I involve
a nice guy in this mess of my family because it was unfair? It was my parents
and my brother, who meant a lot to me and then had a huge impact on my life.
What
happened is in the past, but it seems difficult to get rid of it. Have I be putting
my entire life on hold? How could I be capable of feeling so much grief inside my
heart? Is it me unable shake the terrible memories? Or is it the worst memories
that have stuck with me? How could I allow my feelings of the old days to take
over and leave the present and the future in the hand of the past?
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