Justine Ang Fonte (61:35)
I remember coming home from school. I was in fourth grade at the time, living in Tampa, Florida. My dad, he was at work, and my mom, her name is money. She's about 5ft with wavy hair and skin that never seems to age. She was lying on her back on her bed, and she was pregnant at the time. She kept asking me, sri, can you warm me a cup of milk? I wanted to help her. I wanted to take care of her, you know, she was my best friend. She was my confidante, and she always protected me whenever my dad would get into his occasional bursts of anger. But at that time, I desperately just wanted to go outside and play. So I was like, I'll go outside and play, and then I'll come back and I'll warm you a cup of milk. So I left, came back after a few hours, and as soon as I opened the door, I saw my dad standing at the corner of the kitchen island. He's about 5 3, looks a bit like Danny DeVito. He was staring me down like a lion looks at his prey. And his hands were clenched into fists. As soon as I closed the door and locked it, my dad ran over, picked me up, and carried me over to his bedroom, where he dropped me from his height onto the bed repeatedly. I was laughing hysterically because I was like oh, man. My dad's finally playing with me. He's hanging out because before Tampa, like, he was always traveling around for work, and he was always getting me some sort of, like, trinket on his way back, like a teddy bear or art supplies. So I thought he was the greatest father in the world. It wasn't until the fourth or fifth drop, when my back sort of started hurting, that I realized that my dad was actually trying to hurt me. So I stopped laughing. And he picked me up one more time and carried me over to his closet, which he opened and dropped me on the floor. And I had this feeling that just coursed through my entire body. Kind of like that feeling when you, like, hit your funny bone, but, like, throughout my entire body. I was just shocked, you know? And my dad walked over to the other side of the room and took out some colored rope. And these were the same colored rope that we used to tie our luggage together when we came over from India. And he wrapped them around really tightly around my wrists and my ankles and told me to stay there. And then he closed the closet door and walked over to the kitchen. I couldn't see anything, and all I could go off of was my hearing. I could hear my mom saying, hey, don't leave him in there too long. I was like, oh, my mom's there. So I was like, mom, Amma, help me. Help me, please. And all I remember her saying was, sri, be quiet or all the neighbors can hear. And my dad was. Was talking to her and saying, he needs to learn his lesson, to do what his mom asks and to respect his elders. I didn't shed a single tear when I was in there, but I felt my heart just break, like, tear apart into a million pieces. Because I thought the world. My mom, you know, she was my protector, and she didn't even put up a fight. It just scared me so much to know that this was my dad. This was my real dad, the one that my mom was trying so hard to protect me from. But not anymore. It wasn't long after, while I was still in fourth grade, that my dad gave me this book called Vocabulary Cartoons that had these, like, sat words in there that used these cartoons and comics to make fun little visualizations that allow you to memorize the words easier. Like, for example, the word miniscule. There's a picture of a mini school with a kid holding a magnifying glass to it. I thought it was kind of fun, you know, even interesting, until my dad said, sri, you have the next two weeks to read this entire book and memorize it. I'm going to quiz you, and if you don't get to 90% or higher, I'm going to beat you. And I just remember thinking to myself, like, what the fuck? Like, it was just a few weeks ago that you threw me into a closet. Now this. I didn't know whether to believe him or not. But just to be on the safe side, every day after school, I'd come home and, you know, read the book a little bit more. Those two weeks just flew by. And I remember my dad pulling out these two foldable metal chairs onto the apartment balcony and him sitting across from me with his arms crossed. And he's this hairy, stout Indian man with a thick Indian accent, and he doesn't know that much English yet alone these SAT words. And he's quizzing me. And so he starts off, okay, Sri, tell me the definition of miniscule. And I was like, it means tiny. And he goes, no, that is not what it means. The book says very small. Did you even read it? And I was like, dad, look, tiny and very small are basically the same thing. They're like synonyms. Syno. What? Stop making up words. He ended up giving me a 40% when I knew I did way better. And before I could even think, my face was squished onto the concrete floor of the apartment balcony, and my dad's knees were on my back and neck and his hand was pushing my face in. And from the corner of my eye, I could see all his instruments of torture, like the belts and wooden stakes and ropes and metal bars, you know, as if he, like, had planned this entire thing and was expecting this outcome. And I remember him telling me, sri, if you scream or shout, I will kill you and no one will care. My entire body was shaking. Tears were streaming out of my face and. And I had trouble breathing with all the pressure on my back. And in between the cries, I managed to mutter out, appa, please, Apa. Dad. I I, I, I. I promise I'll be a better kid. I'll study. I'll study harder. This won't happen again. I promise. I'll do anything. Appa, pleasepa, please. And when that didn't work, I tried calling out to my mom. I was like, amma, Amma. Just hoping beyond all hope that, you know, maybe, just maybe, that she'd come and help me out. I don't remember much about that night, but I remember waking up the following morning with my entire body just aching. And I remember waking up, getting out of bed and Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing all these bruises covering my entire body. Black, yellow, blue, green. I mean, you name it, it was probably on there, except for my face. My dad made sure to not get bruises on my face to avoid arousing suspicion. And when I looked at my hands, they were the color purple. And when I tried to open doors, it just hurt. And so I would use my back and even that hurt because the skin had just like peeled off. They just come off and it was just red. Even my bottom, like, I couldn't even sit on any seat because, like, my ass was just so red because it was like red. There was no skin on there and it was just bleeding. My dad said, sri, if you want to go to school, I'll take you, but you'll need to wear a long sleeve shirt and long pants. And, you know, that ended up becoming a regular activity at least once every few months for almost like 10 years, if not more. Over the time, I just. My helplessness and hopeless helplessness just grew by magnitudes. All I could think of was like, suicide. I didn't have anyone to go to. My parents, I couldn't trust them. People in the Indian community who I reached out to, and they're like, sri, you know, this is just a normal thing in Indian communities. You know, make sure you're a good kid and listen to your parents. And, you know, I was like, what the fuck? Eventually, you know, I got so used to the pain that all I could do was laugh. Over time, I realized that my dad was just a super fickle man and the smallest of things would just set off his rage. He could go from happy or amused to being angry, like with the. With the snap of a finger, you know, and it could be something that he remembered from work or maybe something that someone told him or something that, you know, he remembered from like 20 plus years ago that, like, suddenly makes him angry. And his punishments for me were never really, like, reasonable. He'd say, sri, I am angry with you because of the color of your shirt. You know, I'd just be wearing a yellow shirt. And before I could even change my shirt or have the chance to, I'd be getting pummeled. Or he'd say, sri, you put trash into the wrong trash can. And next thing I know, like, he's using my favorite cricket bats and beating the shit out of me. One of his favorite pastimes, I suppose you can call it that, was telling me to remove my clothes. And he'd say, sri, take off all your clothes. I Bought them, so those are mine. And then he kicked me out of the house. And I would hide behind the bushes and the trees, like in the side of the house. And at night I'd get hungry, so I would steal an orange or something from the neighbor's garden to eat. One thing that really pissed him off was me masturbating. You tell me, Sri. I have set up video cameras in your room and bathroom. I have video evidence of you masturbating. And I'm going to send those videos to your teachers and classmates. You know, stuff like that. I remember a particular night when I was sleeping and my dad had silently snuck into my room. And even though I was sleeping, I could feel this sort of eerie presence in my room and eyes just, you know, glaring at me. And I remember him walking over to my bed and lifting off the covers to try to catch me masturbating. And you know, I wasn't, but my hands were sorta around my groin area. And I guess, you know, this sort of triggered him or something. And so he started pinching me to try to get me awake. And you know, I did my best to ignore him and pretended like I was still sleeping. And when he saw that, you know, this wasn't working, he then kicked me on my ass and my ribs. This was painful, you know, I couldn't ignore it anymore. And so I turned around to face him and he just stared at me and said, get up now and follow me. And I followed him all like groggily and like barely awake. And he led me into the garage and I could see he had all these like Home Depot wooden stakes lying next to the water heater. And he said, sri, remove all your clothes and stand there. And I used my hands to cover my penis. And he said, if you cover them, I will cut off your hands. And then he took one of the wooden stakes and just stabbed me in my balls and started laughing like a maniac and said, ha, ha ha, look at your balls. He looked like an 80 year old man stand nasty. He then ordered me to lie on my chest on the cold hard ground. And my body was just shivering and it was just tense and he just choked me as hard as he could without killing me and said, you don't deserve to live. I wish you were dead because you are an embarrassment and I'm ashamed of you. Then he took one of the wooden stakes and tried to push it as far up my anus as easily could, but I clenched my butt muscles with all my strength. And I remember him Saying, this is what Indian police do to criminals like you. And this ended up happening, like, multiple times. I remember this particular night when my dad came home extremely upset. He sat me down in his office room, or what I call his torture room. He said, sri, I am upset. You've been spending too much time on Facebook and not enough time studying, and you've been masturbating too much. And I just remember thinking, like, you know, it's just this normal spiel. Normal bullshit. He's probably angry about something else. And besides, like, my grades are mostly A's and some B's. Like, what the fuck is he complaining about? He said, go do something else and come back in 15 minutes. When I did, I saw that he had his, like, mattress and pillow and everything kind of set up on his floor. And on his office desk was a styrofoam cup. And he said, okay, go ahead and look into it. And when I did, there was this yellow liquid. It was his urine. My fat dad's fucking urine. It smelled like fucking, like protein and rotten eggs. I remember him telling me, treatment. You need to drink that entire cup or you can't go to sleep. And you have to stand up the entire time until you do. I was like, what the fuck? What is this bullshit? Is he being serious? Turns out he was. So I just ended up standing there from, like, 9:00pm to like, maybe around 4:00am ish, the following morning. It was a school night. And, you know, I was just standing there. I was like, no way. I'm gonna, like, fall for this. I'm not gonna do this. But eventually, I. You know, I. I thought to myself, holy shit, like, I have a test this morning, and if I don't get at least a little bit of sleep, I'm gonna bomb it. And if I bomb it, then, you know, my dad's gonna beat the shit out of me. So, you know, lose, lose, you know, I. I drink his urine or I fucking fail the test. I don't know. It's. It sucked either way. So I. I sucked it up. I. I drank his urine while my dad washed and intently, gleaming with pride, as if, like, I just cured cancer or something. And, you know, had an hour of sleep, went to bed. And then two days later, on another school day, my dad calls me into the office room. He has the exact same setup on the floor with his mattress and phone and everything like that. And on his desk is another styrofoam cup, but this time there's a lid. And he says, shree, go ahead and Open the lid and look inside. I have a present for you. And I look inside and it says feces along with the toilet bowl water. And he gives me the same instruction. He says, sri, I want you to eat the entire poop and drink the liquid. And until you do, you have to stay standing and you can't go to bed. I was like, fuck, no, I'm not doing this shit. I'm not going to do anything like this. So I ended up standing up the entire night from like 9pm until like 6am the following morning and ended up going to school. This is just a small glimpse into my childhood and early adulthood. And this environment is basically what my siblings were born into. Brother named Shiva, who looks exactly like me, and our mom, who is quiet and charismatic and a sister named Shreya. You know, she looks a bit like her dad, but nowhere near as menacing. She's smart and she's really hard working. They're fraternal twins. They love playing tennis, they love hanging out with friends, they love listening to all the new hip hop and rap and trying to teach me about pushing pee. I still don't know what that means. And you know, they always fight, but they, at the end of the day, they always have each other's backs. You know, growing up, like, I just, I don't really care much for them because I was older than them by like more than 10 years and I didn't want to really be more like an accessory parent because like, you know, like as soon as they were born, our dad fucked off to India for months and like leaving my mom and me to like take care of them. And we had no family support and I would have to, you know, change their diapers and feed them and basically, you know, I was basically like a second parent for them and you know, I had my own problems to deal with and I just wanted to get the fuck out. I did have like a great deal of like guilt and empathy for them because like, for them, their sort of abuse started when they were just like 4 or 5 years old because their dad, you know, he would always tell them things like how he never wanted them and how they shouldn't be alive. I mean, shit, could you imagine telling a four or five year old that they should go and kill themselves? I mean, it's crazy. And I just felt completely powerless to do anything to help them because every time I would stand in between, between my dad and my siblings, I would get the brunt of his anger and he would like direct it all towards me and I was already beat up, like most of the time, who was like, supposed to go to my mom, who I used to look up to, you know, she just watched from the sidelines and sometimes even take part in the action. And according to my parents, like, every Indian household was exactly like ours, where kids would get beat up, you know, if they weren't good. But even then, I knew that our parents went above and beyond, beyond compared to other families. And I thought about calling the police many times, but I just couldn't live with myself to tear my, my family apart and allow for like, the Indian community, like social stigma to kind of, you know, basically say, hey, we're all bad kids for complaining to the police about our parents. I eventually got a small break from all the abuse when I started my undergrad at the University of south Florida about 10 miles away from home. And I started as a pre med because my parents, just like most other Indian parents, basically honed into me, you know, you gotta become a doctor or you're a failure, you know, it was an extremely confusing part of my life because it was the first time I sorta gotta breathe. I got to see all these kids and parents who weren't fucked up parents telling their kids, I love you, telling them to go follow their dreams. I also clung on to any bits of friendliness that I could find in the hopes that I could find some security or love somewhere. I eventually took the mcat, you know, the medical college entrance exam. But I was too immature and I just wasn't ready for it because I had all these dark thoughts in my head. And the best thing that I ever did for myself was move away as far as I could for work. And I stopped talking to my dad, and I eventually stopped talking to my mom over a much longer period of time because I kept hoping that maybe I could have some sort of semblance of family. But eventually realized that she was just an extension of my father. Around 2019, my dad got this idea in his head that he was gonna move the entire family to India. He was gonna get my siblings to become doctors there and get them arranged married by the time they become 23. I guess this was because I didn't become a doctor myself and live out his weird fantasy. I don't know, I'll probably never find out. But from 2019 to 2021, during the pandemic, he would force my siblings to take these practice tests in prep for the Indian med school entrance exam called the Neet N e E T. And he would give it to them like every two or three days or so and then grade them. He would also force them to take these like neet zoom classes with all these teachers from India whom they could hardly understand. And this is all on top of their regular high school schoolwork and their duties as tennis team captains. And if my siblings didn't get a 90% or higher on these practice tests, my dad would sit them down in his office room and scream at them for hours. Just knowing all of this was happening just like tore me apart inside. Having to see this process just repeat and having to watch from the sidelines. It eventually came to a head in 2021 when I flew down from Boston to Tampa for my siblings high school graduation. I remember opening the door to our house and the air inside had this weird sort of, I guess, texture or feeling to it. And I remember my mom rushing over and giving me this huge bear hug and she was like, sri, I'm so happy to see you. Shiva and Shreya are going to be graduating soon. They're so excited. And my dad gave me this hug and he said, I love you. For the first time ever. It just felt weird. It felt icky. I knew it wasn't real. My parents were acting like everything was all good, everything's fine. And behind this veil that they'd put up, I could see that my siblings looked absolutely disheveled. They looked like they had just woken up from bed. They looked like they weren't ready. It just felt weird. And for what should be a joyous, momentous occasion, you know, a high school graduation, a big deal, you know, after we'd gone to the graduation came back, my siblings pulled me aside to their room and they said, sri, we can't take it anymore. All our friends get to live their lives and get to go to college and stay home and we have to go to India. Like we told mom and dad hundreds of times that we don't want to go there and become doctors. We have no interest. We just want to have normal lives. We don't know what you can do, but if there's anything at all, please. I didn't know what to say or do. My chest just kind of clenched up and it felt weird because I mean, what could I do for two 17 year olds? How am I supposed to take care of them? You know, I could barely take care of myself most days. I don't really have any power to help them really. But at the same time I kind of realized that if I didn't do anything for my siblings or help them out in any way, my dad would win. He would get to take both of his kids and make them live out his weird med school doctor fantasy in another country where he would get to reign supreme and have complete control over their lives. And, you know, he doesn't have to abide by American laws anymore. Well, I tried to convince my parents many times. When? Before that this was a terrible plan. I tried to give it one last go while I was there. So I pulled my dad from the office room and my mom from the kitchen, and we sat down together at the dining room table. And I remember telling my dad, look, this is a terrible idea. Shiva and Shreya don't have any interest in medicine, and they don't want to be forced to go to India. And I remember my dad saying, sri, look, no one is forcing anyone to do anything, okay? Shiva and Shreya have been telling me from a very young age that they've always been interested in medicine. They want to be doctors. I don't know where you're getting these stupid ideas from, okay? And besides, mom and I know what's best for them. You're too young to understand, but mom and I are here to help you, to love you, and we will always be here to support you. And they kept droning on, you know, all their lies and excuses. And as they did, I could feel my teeth clenching and my blood start to boil. You know, I just wanted to let them have it. I wanted to fucking scream and I wanted to punch my dad. But I knew it would be pointless. You know, it was just like talking to a brick wall. Later that night, Shaia came into my room and grabbed me by the arm, and she led me to her room where Shiva was sitting on the bed. And I remember we were just, like, looking around the corners to make sure our parents weren't listening in on us, which they normally do as they like to spy on us. And she silently closed the door, and I could just see into their eyes. And they seem so sad and yet somehow also a bit grateful, you know? And I remember Shreya saying, sri, these past few days were the best time you've had in, like, two years. And I know you can't really do much, but it just felt nice knowing that our big brother was here and that we had someone who was on our side for once. And that just hit me like a ton of. Of bricks, you know? Like, I just felt like I. I wanted to cry. I wanted to help them, but I didn't know how. So I. I told him Look, I don't know what I can do now. You guys are 17. But once you're 18, I promise I'll come to India and I'll get you guys back. I don't know if I actually believed those words, but just for a moment, I could see a glimmer of hope in their eyes. Less than two weeks after I left back for Boston, my parents packed up everything, including the family dog, and left for India to her grandma's house in the southeastern most state of India called Tamil Nadu. This was literally at the peak of the COVID pandemic in, like, May of 2021. And this house, I mean, it means a lot to me. Like, it's where I grew up for the first three years of my life. The house was big, built, I think, in, like, the 1950s by our grandparents. And it was newly renovated to include, like, a carport and have a second floor for, like, our dad's, like, office room and things like that. You know, it's just a place with all these other smaller houses and a lot of farms in the area, like, for coconut trees and sugar cane and banana trees. You know, there's all these people there who, most of them are our mom's relatives. There's also all these, like, chickens and cows and stray dogs and even some snakes that just kind of roam about. There's a nearby paper mill where, you know, you can kind of smell the chemicals in the air and you can hear the whistle, which signals the shift change for all the workers every few hours or so. You know, this village is basically in a very collectivist, patriarchal society where everyone, everybody is up in, like, everyone else's business. Like, you know, everyone wants to know what's going on next door, right? And the man is the head of the household, you know, and this is where my siblings were. They had no friends there. No one was on their side except maybe our grandma, who barely knew what was going on. They didn't know how to speak the language, the native language of Tamil, and they didn't have any money to themselves. And so basically they were in, like, this foreign jail cell from, like, May to November of 2021 while my siblings were in India. They would try to contact me through WhatsApp. They would try to do that by going to the bathroom or hiding behind their beds anywhere they could, like, be away from our parents prying eyes. I remember there was this one night when Shreya called me on the phone, and I could just hear her voice quivering in fear as she said, sri dad Just went crazy. He's been throwing plates off his second floor roof and he's been running down the stairs and mom, grandma and Shiva and I, we locked ourselves behind the doors and he keeps trying to break in. And we're just so scared. We don't know what to do. Could you come and get us? We. We don't. What do we do? And man, after hearing that, like, I. Damn, I was just a mess. There was all these questions swirling around in my brain, like, how am I supposed to go there and get them? Am I supposed to spend thousands of dollars, just fly over there and fly back? And the small possibility that I can even get them them, especially considering our parents are monitoring them like hawks. I barely speak the freaking language. And how are they going to get their passports, which are like locked away in some cabinet? What would happen if I don't go? Maybe they'll be fine. Or you know, maybe if I do somehow get them back, how the hell am I going to feed them? How am I going to clothe them? How am I going to house them? You know, it was just boggling my fucking mind. About a week after their 18th birthday in like early November 2021, I get a series of these, like, desperate texts from my siblings. And they basically said, like, SRI mom and dad are planning to send us off to different cities to these neat coaching centers where they want us to study for a whole, whole other year and then take the test again because we didn't, we didn't do so hot this year. And there's going to be all these other teachers closely monitoring us every day of every hour. What do we do? My immediate reaction was, well, fuck, what do I do? You know? And my heart was playing tug of war with my brain because my heart was like, let's go, we can do this. And my brain was like, hold the on. You know, I was trying to be more logical. And all these questions that I had before, you know, just came back in full force, like, how do I do this? Do I have any friends who I. Who can help me? How do I figure out the logistics, right? And I realized that the longer I waited, the less of a chance that I would be able to go and get them. I was hesitant, but I also remembered my promise to them. Once you're 18, I promise I'll come to India and I'll get you guys back. And then I asked myself two questions. One, would this be the right thing to do? And two, would I regret for the rest of my life not going and trying to help my siblings when I had the chance. And the answer to both was yes. So I was like, well, shit, you know, this is my chance. At least while they're in grandma's village, they know where their passports are. So they can somehow gain access to their passports by using her grandma and getting the passports. But if they're in these, like, you know, coaching centers or wherever, our parents probably would move their passport to some bank or something and just make it way harder because they'd be in different cities. And if I get one sibling, then the other sibling would get locked down because then the proctors and like, they would communicate and they'd be like, oh, shit, like everything's going down. We need to hide away the other sibling. So I was like, if there is a chance, this is it. So I booked a flight and I flew from Boston and landed in India November 12th of 2021.
