A family matter


Oct. 10, 2006, midnight | By Saron Yitbarek | 17 years, 5 months ago

Blazers cope with physical and mental abuse


It was past 10 p.m. when his father stood over him, cursing, interrogating him about skipping school that day. His father expected better from him, and senior Johnnie Ramos, then in eighth grade, knew that. But when his father pulled out a belt and held it high over his head, Ramos knew this wouldn't be just another lecture.

The thick leather stung his back and chest as his father spat out a long string of insults. Ramos had known this day would come sooner or later. His dad's temper had grown steadily worse over the years and that night, it had finally boiled over. But even though Ramos had been expecting it for years, he was still terrified by his father's first display of physical abuse.

Though Maryland has about 11 cases per 1,000 children, many go unreported, according to Childhelp, a national child abuse prevention and treatment organization. Child abuse crosses all boundaries of race and class, affecting children from every family background. Though the temporary cuts and bruises left by child abuse fade with time, the emotional scars last into adulthood.

Things fall apart

For most of his childhood, Ramos' father was either imprisoned or out drinking with other women. He was "the guy who always wanted to party," says Ramos. "He was still in his 20s - who could blame him?"

Though he never experienced physical abuse as child, Ramos witnessed emotional abuse daily. His father's temper tore his family apart and reduced his mother to tears almost every night.

But when Ramos turned 13, his father decided he wanted to be a part of his son's life, taking a particular interest in Ramos's education. Rather than being the loving parent Ramos had always wanted, his father became obsessed with his grades, constantly telling him that he wasn't good enough.

To escape his father's insults, Ramos turned to marijuana, eventually becoming addicted. " I needed weed to cope with my problems," he says. But when school security caught Ramos skipping class to smoke, the resulting suspension prompted the first blows of what would become a cycle of physical abuse.

But the beatings didn't deter him, and he soon began stealing to satisfy his cravings. One night, after Ramos took $100 from his dad's wallet, his father came home, found his money short, and knew immediately who had taken it.

Ramos remembers the moment perfectly: His dad looked at him, stuck his fingers into the pockets of his son's pants and retrieved the missing money. But rather than take out his belt, his father threw a punch, slamming him hard against the cold tiles.

For a good five minutes, his dad swung his fists, painting bruises across his son's body. He then pulled out his leather belt and continued to swing.

Ten minutes later, Ramos could still feel the sting of his father's fist on his cheek.

Just a form of punishment

His father's reaction is not uncommon, according to Susan Glorioso, supervisor of Child Protective Services (CPS) in Maryland. Often times, she explains, parents simply see beating as another form of punishment. "They'll tend to overreact and discipline kids in inappropriate ways," she says.

Travis' stepfather enforced household rules through physical abuse for this exact reason - to discipline his son. Since eighth grade, Travis, now a senior, whose name has been changed to protect his identity, has been beaten for breaking household rules.

One of his most vivid memories was coming home 10 minutes past his curfew last year. His stepfather got up and charged at Travis, slamming him against the living room wall, pounding his face, punch after punch.

His stepfather hit him as often as twice a week, but because he never expressed verbal abuse, Travis accepts it simply as a form of punishment. "He explains why he beats me," he says. "So when I came home late that night, I knew he was going to hit me."

Stress reliever

But for senior Sandrine Zoko, the beatings she received weren't an extreme punishment for skipping school or coming home late. They were just a way for family "to relieve stress," as she says.

Her sister, now 24, first beat Zoko when she was seven. After Zoko had gotten her sister in trouble with their father, Zoko's sister grabbed her and started to punch her in the face. Since then, the abuse became routine. "An hour later, she'll say she's sorry," Zoko explains. "She'll say, 'Next time, don't get on my nerves,' and that'd be all."

For her dad, beating was also a way to release his frustrations. Since Zoko emigrated from the Ivory Coast to join her seven sisters and father in America, her father avoided family issues until stress got to him. "He didn't pay attention to what was going on until it got to the point that he would hit somebody," Zoko says.

For the smallest reasons, Zoko recalls, her father would release his anger through beating. "It was just him and eight daughters, so his frustration got dumped on me," she says.

Fighting back

Eventually, Zoko started to retaliate. One night, as she and her sister argued, her sister reached for a frying pan. Before she knew it, Zoko was doubled over, moaning in pain as her head throbbed from the impact of the steel pan. Looking up at her sister with rage, she grabbed a knife and sliced her sister across the back.

From then on, Zoko fought whenever provoked, whether by family or peers. "If a person touches you, you beat the [expletive] out of them," she says. "Violence isn't the answer, unless you're defending yourself.

Though Ramos never physically fought back against his father, he decided to run away from home his freshman year. While at a school meeting with his father, Ramos ran out of the building and called CPS from a friend's house.

After he made the call, Ramos was assigned to a social worker to handle his case who promised to take him out of his home if he agreed to enter a rehabilitation center for his marijuana addiction. A few months later, Ramos checked into a Baltimore center, working his way out by completing all levels of their program. He then transferred to Kemp Mill Group Home, where he lived with other teenagers with similar problems.

Prevention

To stop child abuse, CPS works with the community to make citizens aware of the problem, emphasizing education as the key to prevention. "Education and communication can do a lot," Glorioso says.

Their target audience includes foster parents, new parents and parents of adopted children, teaching prevention and indication of abuse. "We go into communities and school systems and educate parents and tell them what signs and symptoms to look for," Glorioso says.

It seems to be working, as Glorioso says that Marylanders are "very good at reporting abuse. "Though she knows there are still many that go unreported, she commends the state's citizens for stepping up and helping create a safer environment for children.

Heartache

Though Zoko herself never reported the abuse, the domestic violence eventually landed her at the YMCA's Youth and Family Services in Washington, D.C., where she has been receiving counseling for the past two years.

Though Zoko has stopped fighting with other students, she will always feel rage towards her family. "They asked me if I loved my family, and I said yes, but if you looked me in the eye and knew me, you'd know I was lying," she says. "They hurt me, I hurt them. We've paid each other back. It's over."

As a child of abuse, Zoko says she will bear the emotional scars her whole life. "Child abuse hits you in your heart," she says. "The whole time, you're asking yourself, 'Why was it me to go through all this pain? Why does everybody else seem so happy?'"

Ramos believes that the worst part of child abuse is that it is ineffective, and the only way to teach children to behave well is to set a good example. "Show our kids good ways, that's how they really learn," he says. "[My dad] told me that he thought hitting me would scare me into being good. But it didn't work. It just made me hate him more."

If you or someone you know is being abused, please call Child Protective Services at (240) 777-4417.


Editor's note

Although all the information in this article regarding Sandrine Zoko was provided directly from the source, further investigation has revealed inconsistencies and unreliability that casts doubt on the accuracy of Zoko's testimony.




Saron Yitbarek. More »

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