Breaking the Silence of My Childhood Trauma

I grew up in a Luhya home where the man was king,his word was law, his anger was feared, and his violence was normalized.

My father was the center of that world.

When he spoke, everyone listened in silence.

When he got angry, we all knew what was coming.

I remember nights when my mother cooked, cleaned, and served him with respect,yet one small mistake would unleash his rage. A misplaced plate. Food not hot enough. Words he didn’t like. Then his hands would land on her body like weapons.

The sound of his fists on her flesh is something I can never forget.

The sight of her tears as she tried to hide the bruises is burned into me.

As a child, I would hide in the corner, trembling, wishing I could protect her, but knowing I was powerless.

That was my childhood.

That was the culture I was born into,where a man’s control was celebrated and a woman’s pain was ignored.

I carried this trauma inside me. It shaped how I saw men. It planted fear in me, mistrust, and anger. It taught me that being a woman in my community often meant suffering in silence.

But today, I refuse to be silent.

I refuse to allow abuse to be called “discipline.”

I refuse to let culture excuse violence.

Mens everywhere,must learn that power is not measured in fists. Real strength is measured in love, respect, and protection.

To my father: yes, you broke us. But you also taught me what I will never accept, and what I will fight against with all my voice.

To my mother: your silence was not weakness, it was survival. Today, I speak for you, and for every woman who still hides her scars.

To the world: hear us.

Hear the daughters of abusive homes.

Hear the wives who sleep in fear.

Hear the women who carry silent trauma in their bodies.

My pain has become my weapon.

My trauma has become my testimony.

And with this voice, I will not stop speaking until no girl grows up believing that violence is love.

#GirlPower #EndViolence #HumanRights #BreakTheSilence