A new tradition

This past week corporal punishment was a topic of class that has been on my mind throughout the week. Like many children of Indian immigrant parents, I grew up being disciplined with corporal punishment. Despite this, I considered myself lucky. Compared to the children of our family friends, it seems as though my parents went easy on me. Nonetheless, I still have many memories of the trauma induced by the physical repercussions I used to face as a child.

Growing up I was an extremely fussy eater. My dad likes to joke that I made up for all the food I missed out on eating when I was a child by eating everything in sight after I turned 13 (an age that also coincided with a growth spurt).

My eating habits as a child did not serve me well in the eyes of my father. He grew up in Bilimora, a small and relatively unknown village in Gujarat. Throughout his childhood my dad and his siblings had one chance a day to eat so he knew to stuff himself until he could not stand any more food. I'm not sure if this chance to eat once a day was due to his family's lack of money of a shortage of his mother's time to cook for her four children and the extended family. It was because of this childhood ritual of his that my dad failed to understand my fussiness with eating. This misunderstanding led to punishment in the form of slaps to my head and being locked in the garage or bathroom for anywhere for a few minutes to an hour. I was often sent to bed without dinner and with a throbbing head. I remember that my mom would sneak me Rick Krispy treats under my pillow as she tucked me in and lectured me on the importance of being thankful for the food I was given.

Many of my white peers at school could never understand why the punishment for something as simple as not eating was so severe. In the suburb where I grew up, white children came from upper-middle class families. I would go to their houses and be amazed when their mom told them to throw out their leftover food. I was left in shock when they talked back to their parents and treated them more like a friends than a parent. I grew envious of them and their ability to make it through dinner time without the dramatics of corporal punishment.

As I grew older and was able to reflect on my upbringing with corporal punishment, I came to realize it was a largely cultural phenomenon. Asian Immigrant Families saw corporal punishment as an effective way of instilling some sense of fear in their children to scare them into submission.

As dark and twisted as it is, it's also the only parenting tool many Immigrant Families have. After all, it was the parenting tool their own parents employed. My  dad still to this day, tells us how lucky we are that he and my mom show so much kindness to my sister and I, especially considering how he was treated by my grandfather. I whole heartedly agree. I know my grandfather and he can be quite the cruel character. I know that my dad endured endless amounts of punishment he simply did not deserve. I do feel lucky that my parents raised my sister and I with leniency and an abundance of love. The corporal punishment I endured as a younger child never discounted that.

A growing body of literature on the effects of corporal punishment on children. Studies on corporal punishment have shown that it is associated with a large range of mental illnesses including depression, anxiety, and substance abuse. Notably, no studies have shown that there are positive effects of corporal punishment. 

The research on this topic has led countries like India to reform their laws on corporal punishment towards children. The Juvenile Justice Act of 2015 was enacted to prohibit corporal punishment in all settings including the home. The Right to Education Act of 2010 prohibited it specifically in schools.

As an adult that grew up with this form of punishment, I feel hopeful that so much awareness is being brought to this topic. I myself cannot wait to break the generational tradition of corporal punishment.