Amarilloism

When I asked him why he beat me so badly, he said it was because he beat the other kids at school and because I was his son, he had to. He then asked me if I did not think I provoked him when I misbehaved. The idea that a child would go out of their way to be abused is very much identical to the “asking for it” narrative pedaled by so many men regarding women victims of assault. It’s disgusting logic.

I remember being held by him upside down in the yard, my upper body being whipped for minutes without end, all because I did not go to rake the yard when he told me to. He beat me so badly I remember having red marks left on my skin, like a branding that lasted days. I remember these belt streaks like whip marks on my chest so vividly, it’s like I can still see them. In prep school, I was given such a beating that I was hiding from my father, cowering in the small; space between their mattress and the floor trying to escape as he pursued to finish me off. I don’t remember what for. I remember him calling for me to come from under there. I remember my mother arguing with him. The mere fact that I often can’t remember why I was beaten, but I can remember the beating, is evidence of what the lasting impact of corporal abuse is. It does not result in deep reflection on what you did, why it’s wrong, and how you can do better. Instead, it emphasizes guilt, shame, and self-loathing. “You did something wrong, and so you deserve to be in pain.”

The fear I had of my father’s wrath was so torturous that I would lie and avoid confessing I had done wrong, hoping I would be spared from another day of judgment. There was no space for introspection and acknowledgment of my actions and trying to make it right as per my own conscience. Instead, he whipped me and forced me to clean up the mess I made. I remember being beat for accidentally spilling water on his craft. I can remember the water spilling in a kind of slow-motion perception and the sinking feeling I felt as he came to realize. The fear instilled in me by my father’s punishments was not the same as remorse.

The line between corporal punishment and abuse is arbitrary. Moderation when beating your children is undefinable. There is no way we can trust any parent to justly use a belt as punishment. “Spare the rod and spoil the child” is a biblical call to action for Christians to abuse their children. It legitimizes abuse by calling it discipline, and paired with “Children obey your parents,” it effectively blames children for the abuse they endure when they disobey.

I used to be threatened by my peers that if I did anything wrong, that they would tell my father, the principal of my first primary school. They were aware of how ruthlessly he would punish me. This effectively pacified me with the fear of my father’s wrath. So, I put heroic effort into maintaining a record of good behavior. I could not allow myself to make mistakes. Primary school was stressful, not because of anything related to my education, but entirely because of my social standing as the principal’s son. But even then, I would get a beating for doing things that were benign, or that I thought were fair or good, or even worse: for what I could only perceive as nothing at all.

Being “punished” by my father in this way and not knowing what I was being punished for only bred resentment. I remember resenting my father so much I fantasized about revenge; I would imagine chaining him up, making him as powerless to resist as I was, and beating him as ruthlessly as he had done to me. I developed problems with anger, though not to the extent he has, but the kind of burning anger that could only be soothed by imagining the wicked things I wanted to do back to him. And I regret to say that feeling is still there, a kink in the fabric of my being.

I am resentful of family members who say I should stay connected with my father. They are telling me I should stay connected with someone who is an abuser to me. Corporal punishment disfigures the relationship between parent and child, giving the parent permission to wield and unfair physical power over their child, a power that is easily corrupted. How easy it is for this “punishment” to become abusive. It’s a relationship that resembles that which exists between a master and his slave; children, obey and do as you are told or be beaten by those who love you so much.

Fear of authority isn’t a good basis upon which to instill good behavior. What happens when the fear, or the authority, is gone? Good behavior should be rooted in understanding, empathy, and a sense of responsibility, not in the terror of punishment. Without the space for introspection and personal growth, all that remains is resentment and a deep-seated anger. Corporal punishment does not teach; it only traumatizes, leaving lasting scars that go far beyond the physical. It corrupts the natural bond between parent and child, turning a relationship of love and guidance into one of fear and control. In the end, it’s not discipline—it’s abuse, and it has no place in a caring and just society.