September 2023 · Ian Kwon
It was a normal night in September 2023 until a message arrived from Saima. Immediately, everything felt different. It wasn't a typical check-in. She said her father was hitting her mother, and that he was armed with a knife. For a second, I didn't even know what to say. The normalcy of my evening was shattered. Then everything became urgent. I told her to call 911, and we rushed over to where she lived.
By the time we arrived, the police were already there. They arrested her father.
Outside, people from the apartment complex had come out to watch the commotion. But what stayed with me, what truly haunted me, was the silence. The neighbors watched with a quiet, heavy indifference, as if this were a scene they had memorized long ago. No one stepped in. No one seemed surprised. Yet, the moment I stepped inside, that silence shattered into a completely different reality.
Saima's younger siblings were crying and shaking. Her mother's face showed clear signs of violence. It was the first time I saw something like this happen in real life—not in the news, not in a story, but right in front of me, happening to a family I knew.
Later, Saima showed me photos from before they came to the U.S. and revealed a history of pain. Her father had stabbed her mother multiple times back in their home country. They hadn't reported it at the time because they were terrified that a domestic violence record would jeopardize their refugee application to come to America. She also shared a pain even deeper, telling me that she had been sexually abused by her father.
I looked at her youngest sister, Sajida, who is only four years old. When someone asks Sajida what she wants to be in the future, she says she wants to become a police officer. She says this because she wants to arrest her dad when he hurts her mom.
I couldn't sleep that night.
I kept thinking about how much people go through without anyone really knowing. From the outside, we see these families starting a new life in America, learning English, and going to school. But behind that public face, there are stories of deep fear, profound trauma, and things no one talks about.
That night made me realize something important about the organization I volunteer for.
At In the Beginning, what we do isn't just about tutoring or helping families adjust to a new country. It isn't just about nouns and verbs or music. It is also about being there when things fall apart. It is about speaking up when others can't. It is about making sure people are not left completely alone in situations like this.
We cannot fix everything. We cannot erase the trauma of the past or the danger of the present with a single action. But we can choose to show up.