This summer, I had the privilege to spend time in the offices of Sakhi for South Asian Women, an organization based in New York City that serves survivors of domestic violence of South Asian heritage.
Before beginning of my internship with Sakhi, I honestly thought I was prepared for my time with the organization. After all, I was a newly minted adult, a label that meant I had spent the better part of the last 18 years learning that the world was not all sunshine and rainbows. I was part of the generation shocked in consciousness by 9/11 and two wars and no stranger to adversity or pain. Besides, nearly every self-help book I had been gifted at my high school graduation party told me that if I could survive freshman year, I could survive anything. Armed with my belief in the reality of liberty and justice for all, I thought I had the strength to deal with whatever the upcoming weeks threw at me.
Within a day, I learned I was not nearly as tough as I had imagined I was. Answering Sakhi’s helpline and filing Sakhi’s client reports put me in direct contact with the survivors and their stories, forcing me to confront some of the darkest corners of human nature, the places where light rarely reaches. Every day, I would get calls and read reports and think to myself, “This really happened?”
Every nine seconds, a woman in the United States is assaulted or beaten. Around the world, at least one in every three women is assaulted, beaten, or otherwise abused during her lifetime. A survey of women from 10 countries estimates that more than half the women who have been physically beaten or harmed by a partner have never contacted the police, an NGO, or a shelter for help.
As an NGO, Sakhi helps the women that do contact the organization gain the emotional, governmental, and financial support they need. Specifically, Sakhi provides crisis response, safety planning, public benefit assistance, translation and advocacy services, and support groups to its clients. Because a majority of Sakhi’s clients are recent South Asian immigrants, Sakhi’s cultural sensitive, linguistically appropriate approach enables the survivors to access services they would otherwise be unable to.
To be honest, there were moments when I didn’t think I could handle the work, times at which whatever strength I had gave way to frustration and heartache. It seemed silly, almost selfish to let myself be so affected by another’s experiences. These stories were not mine; whatever I felt was only second-hand. If the women I encountered had the titanic strength to face their circumstances and take action against them, why couldn’t I listen to them without experiencing emotional upheaval?
Yet, even that seemed like a Herculean task. After my first couple days of work, I called home crying. I don’t know what I was expecting to hear at the end of the line, because my parents had no idea as to how to react. But to be fair, what does one say to a daughter who has just spent her day taking calls from rape victims and the physically, economically, and emotionally abused?
In my mind, there is no one woman whose story stands out as especially heartbreaking, no one call that brought me to tears. Instead, it was the consistent regularity with which women filter into Sakhi’s offices, the persistent ringing of the phone that was cause for despair. No matter how many women we served, no matter how many cases we closed, there was always more to do, always another survivor to advocate for. It was enough to dishearten even the staunchest of idealists.
But, I guess there was strength to be found in the middle of New York City, because I did not quit. Day after day, I showed up for work, took calls, and filed reports. I’d like to say that it got easier, that the emotional load was lifted after a week. But it wasn’t; each day I felt the same as the last. However, there were rare moments of what felt like hope, instances that reminded me I owed it to these women to view them as individuals and realize the gravity of the fact that if I served even one of them, it would mean a lifetime’s worth of consequences. Being invited to eat cake in celebration of a survivor’s completion of cosmetology school. Sitting in a support group, smiling at the woman next to me, and having her smile back.
My summer with Sakhi didn’t teach me that violence, in any form, is unacceptable. It didn’t teach me that equality, the foundation of a democratic society, must start at home. No, both of these things I knew before entering the Sakhi office. I did learn, however, that violence is not some distant concept reserved solely for battlefields; that instead, it enters homes with startling regularity and intensity. I learnt that each of us has the strength to rise to the occasion, whatever the circumstances may be. I learnt that liberty and equality, no matter how seemingly tethered in the abstract, can be made into a reality, one person at a time.
