The Inheritance of Silence : Domestic Violence, False Authority, and the Next Generation.

What We Learn to Accept

Most of us would like to believe that domestic violence is something distant — something that happens elsewhere. Yet if we are honest, many of us have seen it in some form. If not within our own homes, then among relatives, neighbours, or friends. We have heard the raised voices, the explanations offered the next day, the careful language that reduces harm to “an argument.”

Over time, familiarity changes perception. What once shocked us begins to feel like a recurring story. The details differ — finances, children, suspicion, stress — but the pattern feels known.

And very often, the person harmed is a woman.

But she is never just a woman.

She could be your mother.
She could be your sister.
She could be your daughter.
She could be your partner.

When we speak in abstractions, violence becomes an issue to analyse. When we recognise the person harmed as someone we love, it becomes something far more difficult to ignore.

The Authority That Was Never Granted

In many homes, violence is not described as violence. It is described as discipline, frustration, or the assertion of order. Beneath those explanations lies an assumption that one person possesses authority over another. That assumption often goes unchallenged. Yet authority is not created by volume, strength, or tradition. Parents can be wrong. Husbands can be wrong. Customs can be wrong. The repetition of behaviour across generations does not make it morally sound.

Having hands is not authority to strike.

The ability to use force does not create the right to do so. Strength does not transform itself into moral permission simply because it exists. Within Sikh teachings, there is no justification for domestic violence. One does not hear it defended as Gurmat. Where defence arises, it tends to come from culture rather than faith — from habits that have been inherited rather than examined.

Silence, more than scripture, is what protects such behaviour.

The Quiet Calculation of Survival

I have seen women regret reporting abuse, not because the abuse did not occur, but because of what follows. The fear of being seen as the one who disrupted the family can feel heavier than the violence itself. Community judgment can appear more immediate than personal safety. That regret is not proof that the harm was minor. It is evidence of how powerful social expectation can be. For many women, silence is not acceptance. It is calculation. Economic dependency, social standing, and concern for children all shape decisions. When stability is tied to a husband’s approval, speaking out can threaten far more than the relationship itself. Years later, dependency may shift rather than disappear. A woman who once relied on her husband may come to rely on her son. Harmony within his household may feel essential to her own security. When conflict arises between him and his wife, silence can return — not because she has forgotten her own suffering, but because survival has taught her caution.

Over time, what was once endured can begin to look like structure rather than exception. What was once resisted can become normalised.

The Child Who Is Watching

There is another presence in these homes that we often overlook — the child who is watching. Domestic violence does not remain confined to two adults. Children absorb far more than words. They notice who apologises. They notice who is feared. They notice which voice ends the argument. From these observations, they begin to construct their understanding of authority and love. Some children grow into adults who believe control is strength. Others grow into adults who believe endurance is loyalty. Neither lesson is taught formally, yet both can become deeply embedded.

In some families, the pattern becomes generational. A woman who once suffered may later fail to condemn similar behaviour directed at her daughter-in-law. The silence she once adopted for survival may become the silence she expects from another. This is not always cruelty. Sometimes it is the quiet reshaping of belief after years of adaptation.

Violence that is not confronted does not disappear. It settles. And in settling, it prepares itself to reappear.

Breaking the Pattern We Inherited

Domestic violence is often described as a breakdown within a relationship. In truth, it is something more fundamental — the misuse of power where legitimacy was never granted. Law can respond to incidents. Campaigns can raise awareness. But the deeper shift occurs when authority inside the home is re-examined. When strength is no longer confused with entitlement. When dignity is valued more than reputation. Admitting that previous generations may have misunderstood certain behaviours does not dishonour them. It acknowledges growth. It recognises that moral clarity can deepen over time.

Parents can be wrong.

And when they are, the responsibility of the next generation is not to preserve the mistake, but to correct it. Domestic violence continues not because it is openly defended, but because it is quietly accommodated. It survives in the space between public condemnation and private tolerance. Until that space narrows, the cycle will remain.

Not loudly.

But persistently.