Fights between my parents, like those of all unfortunate married couples, always start small but turn into catastrophes.

This is not the first time. Over the years crouching under the table, witnessing objects flying back and forth across the hall, I have taken up these fights as nothing more than an ordinary fare.

As always, after an indifferent glance at those smashed porcelain pieces, splashed water and damaged desk and chairs on the floor, I took my younger brother outside to avoid the incoming deplorable scene when my mother would start giving insults on my father’s parentage and appearance.

That would be when my father starts ramming his head against the wall to avoid hitting my mother with the same amount of strength. The outcome is always foreseeable—having been strangled by my mother’s words for too long, he had to breathe a little through his fists.

A friend recently showed me an article where the author complained about his american girlfriend’s hatred towards typical Chinese family.

In the article, the author described his sympathy for a Chinese man in the US who was accused Family Violence by his wife. “He is so helpless facing the US laws with no fluency in English. My girlfriend resented him just because he is Chinese and he fought with his wife.” The author wrote, and I quote with translation, “In my hometown in northeastern China, parents never avoid physical confrontations in front of their children, and the kids are all used to these. They either do their homework or watch TV, watching their parents fight.”

“This article is shameless and pathetic,” remarked my friend, “the author asserted, even praised our nation’s cultural scoundrelism, that parents inflict violence on each other in front of their children like it’s no big deal.” She prefers to call it cultural scoundrelism, an inherent weakness of our nation.

After reading this article, my mind was nearly blank.

My only thought was “Fighting in front of children is considered against the Law? That must be paradise.”

I know from firsthand experiences that my friend has a point. Just like the author, both my parents come from peasant families in the Northeastern region of China where severe physical confrontations are commonplace after a couple Jin of liquor.

I was five when my favorite desk crashed and turned into scattered wood pieces. Not long afterwards I started using tapes to stick the legs back onto my piano stool. I then learned not to get attached to any of the kitchen appliances in our family, because they never last in the cabinet for long.

But losing beloved objects was never the worst. I cannot bear to recall the loneliness and helplessness when I quietly hid in my room, holding breaths, waiting for the storm in the living room to quiet down. Fear rose when I visualized the scene from noises outside the door pounding on my ears. More terrifying than mere shouts and cries were sudden silence followed by sudden screams. That would be when the fights become physical.

Chinese parents are the most fanatical enthusiasts of children education—that’s partially why extracurricular lessons are so profitable in this country. Yes, Chinese kids renown for being good at math because we were raised taking lessons of advanced mathematics. Fierce competitions regarding knowledge reserve appear among kids at all ages from kindergarten to college. Parents put all their attentions (and certainly all their savings) on how well their kids do in the Mathematics Olympics and how many more music instruments they master than the neighbors’ kids that they overlook a crucial part of children’s growth—influence from family environment.

I learned Ballet, calligraphy and of course, piano and advanced mathematics just like every other 10-year-old Chinese child. My father used to drive me across the city every week to take English lessons, and wait in the car for 4 hours in the dog days of summer before driving me back home.

I carved out my way to one of the best high schools in China through examinations—then I forgot everything I learned right after the last exam I had to take.

But meanwhile I learned how to curse overhearing their quarrels and how to most instantly irritate people by witnessing the fights. Then I grew older and started putting these knowledge into practice.

I used to abide my anger towards my family, store it up until I couldn’t bear any more of it, then transfer it into hurting people who cared about me. Bad temper was formed, being tart and mean towards people became an enjoyable activity. I was too young, too intellectually incapable of realizing the pain I caused for people around.

It was not until I lost many precious friendships when I finally began to consciously control my temper and vent my overwhelming spleen through other activities.

Worst of all, my parents’ tragic marriage twisted my idea of long-term relationship and monogamous marriage. For a long period of time, I’ve been deeming marriage to be an inhuman social convention. I’ve had, and still have this firm belief, that all families look presentable on the outside but are corrupted behind the doors, and that all love would turn into repellence over time.

Up till now, I still hesitate to accept having serious relationships out of fear. I don’t know what can help me reduce this fear and I have hurt myself and others by it.

As I grow I become smart enough to adjust my personalities fostered under such circumstances, but this childhood trauma is engraved so deeply in my mind I can never avoid being continuously influenced by this.

That being said, I just want parents who happen to be reading this article to know that violence might be a direct and spleen-venting way of solving problems, but to children who have barely formed a complete and healthy outlook, a family environment based on constant violence always constructs a morbid foundation in children’s mental growth.