Kamal Dhillon’s Story
Over the years I found the courage to speak out against domestic violence and to bring awareness to this epidemic. I broke many barriers and became the author of my first book, Black and Blue Sari. These days I educate and train social service workers, police officers, schools members of the Immigration Parliamentary Committee and other sectors on what abuse looks and feels like. I suffered so you don’t have too. I paid a hefty price for survival – so you would have Hope. I speak out so parents can go to sleep knowing that their daughter’s are safe.
Before I truly begin my domestic abuse story, let me tell how my life was before I met the most evil person I have ever known. I was 18, full of hope and great passions. I was content with life, I made friends easily and pretty much lived a normal life. I had plans to go to college and get my nursing degree. That’s until I met Raj (not his real name) – Raj the demon.
Like most Indo-Canadian families, my marriage was arranged. I didn’t know him but he looked smart, he was handsome, and extremely charming. He seemed kind, attentive and friendly and I soon fell for him.
To describe the words ‘hurt’ and ‘betrayed’ is beyond what I endured, beyond what any victim of abuse endures.
Raj was older than me by 7 years, but it didn’t bother me. He was a smoker, but that didn’t bother me either. There was just something about him that was controlling, manipulative and scary.
The violence I endured was verbal, physical, and constant threats, but also sexual abuse, though I did not recognize it as such at the time. Maybe I was just too naïve. It all started on my wedding night. What a fright – I was brutally raped. The beatings began soon after that. The result of his first beating left me with a broken nose. The abuse quickly escalated into torture. He would tie my hands and my feet then beat me without mercy – mostly on my face and head. If I fell then I would endure kicks. His reasoning, you can’t do anything right. I guess I could never do anything right according to him. I never was good enough! I was never enough.
My life which once was carefree and fun completely changed the day I got married. I became his prisoner. My life was shattered beyond repair; I no longer had a voice. He silenced me with his constant threats. He also silenced me by breaking my jaw. Day by day all I had left was a little strength to cry in silence. I had stopped looking at myself in the mirror. The mirror only reflected a wounded and a very broken woman who was no longer recognizable. The abuse was getting worse and worse. He would insult my family, my friends or anyone that would stand up for me and for everything I loved. What hurt me the most was the fact I had no control over my house or my body or my children. Instead he assumed that it was his right to control every aspect of my life. I had to ask for permission to go to the bathroom, he monitored when and how much I ate. He chose when and where I would sleep. Every punch and every kick was like a stone shattering glass. He slapped, punched, kicked, raped and threatened to kill me more times than I can remember. Many nights, I would feel his cold hands around my neck choking me – I can’t remember when I had a decent night’s sleep in all those years he tortured me. The few times I tried to run from him to save my life, he would run after me and drag me back. The beatings kept getting worse. I wondered when that dreadful day would come when I would take my final breath. My hope was that it wouldn’t happen in front of my children – He had every intention of killing me.
In brief, some of the awful things I lived through were, being electrocuted by his arc welder, doused with kerosene and given a match to lite my body on fire and, hung by my sari.
People often ask me why I stayed so long if it was that bad?
Because he controlled me and instilled so much fear in me. To leave him would mean more pain – even death. I had nowhere to go, no money, no clothes, no support, nothing at all. All I had was my 4 little children and the clothes on our backs.
I was terrified of him and didn’t know what to do. I kept hoping for a better tomorrow.
Now I tell them, he was the monster none of you ever saw.
Besides no one was ever there during the most difficult moments of my life.
No one wanted to believe, no one wanted to get involved. I often heard things like, “it’s a private matter and we don’t want to get involved”.
No one knew this monster called me such slanderous names,
No one knew how he made me feel ashamed, by asking me to do things, no wife should ever do.
You weren’t there to hear the horrible things he yelled at me.
You didn’t see how badly he hurt our little innocent children and me. They suffered in silence. To avoid seeing the violence, they would often hide under their beds – where they made a secret bed. I ask that you avoid blaming the victim.
Years later I would find out that he broke my jaw. One jaw surgery led to 10 surgeries. To the people outside, all you saw was the monster smiling at you and you just assumed that he was a nice, caring guy. Some of you would remind me how lucky I was to be married into such a wealthy and influential family.
Finally the day came, almost 12 years later when I found enough strength to flee. I never thought I would be able to cope without him. Oh, I was so wrong.
I keep thinking back to see if I would’ve seen the signs of an abusive and controlling man – would I have sought help sooner? But of course, hindsight is a wonderful thing. All I saw was a good looking, sweet and loving man whom I was lucky to be getting married too. He never showed any remorse for his behavior.
I also question myself as to why I chose to stay in this dysfunctional marriage for so long when it brought no honor to either side of the family or to me.
I was stuck in a place of pain, torment and the fear of the unknown.
After fleeing, I managed to get all 4 of my children back within a couple of years. Despite the financial hardship, we were happy – best of all – no more daily abuse. He can’t hurt us anymore. He can no longer suffocate me. Because, he died the same way he was trying to kill me. A few years later he was found dead around the same waters where he tried unsuccessfully to push me into. Remember that box of matches he handed me after he had doused me with kerosene, well this time I did light it – at his funeral to cremate his body. My life began the day his ended.
My hope is that my story will help save someone’s life and it is well worth it.
I have chosen to be silent no more. I have become a champion for all who have suffered and are suffering. There is no shame in admitting and seeking help whether you’re a victim or the perpetrator. My story has reached touched the lives of so many around the world. It is my desire to see that no one else suffers.
My past may inform me but it does not conform me. It may inform me but it no longer controls me – it does not dictate me. I chose to forgive him for all the rage, anger, and bitterness. The forgiveness freed me from his stronghold.
I humbly ask that you partner with me and help me to reach as many victims as I can. I echo Hillary Clinton’s words, “If there is one message that echoes from this conference, let it be that human rights are women’s rights and women’s rights are human rights, once and for all.
This International Women’s Day, I join women around the globe in solidarity for human rights, dignity and equality. I dedicate this article to all the victims of domestic violence and to those we have lost over the years. Let’s make everyday a celebration to all the women all across the world. To our moms, our sisters, our daughters, I salute you! May you shine brightly!
