Behind Closed Doors: Domestic Violence in the South Asian Community

A South Asian survivor of domestic violence shares her story.

Reviewed by Devon Frye

Key points

• In a 2021 study, 48 percent of South Asian respondents reported experiencing physical abuse.
• Intimate partner violence is often kept secret in the community to avoid damaging a family's reputation.
• Sometimes, deep-seated beliefs about marriage can contribute to the denial of domestic abuse.
• Alcoholism can exacerbate the intensity of violence but does not itself cause violence.

Years ago, I heard about a family friend’s relative in a scary situation with an abusive husband. The wife and son had both been controlled, isolated, and beaten; it took a few years, but they managed to escape with the help of a shelter and a close friend. I recall people in my community wondering, “Why didn’t she just leave?” and “How could she take it?” I thought the same thing.

I was just in high school then, but when I became a therapist, family friends in my South Asian community started to seek my advice on such situations, often on whispered phone calls. These situations are often kept secret to avoid getting the family into trouble—as well as to escape community gossip, victim-blaming, and the shame and guilt of having a “less-than-ideal” family life.

Yet they are not uncommon. A 2021 study by Rai and Choi found that out of about 470 South Asian participants, 48 percent experienced physical violence, 38 percent emotional abuse, 35 percent economic abuse, 26 percent immigrant-related abuse, 19 percent in-law abuse, and 11 percent sexual abuse. The rates were higher in each category for women than men.

South Asian domestic violence is influenced by many factors—including immigration-related stress, intergenerational patterns of abuse, deep-seated beliefs about marriage, gender, economic power dynamics, in-law influence, substance abuse, and the overall stigma of seeking help for domestic issues or mental health. In some cases, economic control by a husband can make it difficult for an immigrant woman to fathom leaving. In others, feelings around duty, saving face, unconditional love, or forgiveness, as well as strong beliefs about marriage and staying together, can contribute to the denial of abuse.

This was the case for Madhu Sonti, a survivor who currently serves as Treasurer on the Board of Manavi, the first organization in the U.S. to help South Asian survivors of gender-based violence. She wasn’t forced into an arranged marriage, she told me—and being a bit older, she was financially independent. “While I was basically an American, I grew up with a strong South Indian, traditional upbringing," she said. "Yet I was independent in every aspect of my life.”

A Happy Beginning

Madhu and her now ex-husband connected online; they shared a lot in common and wanted the same things in life. He had been married previously but was open and upfront about it.

For the first six months, she spent lots of time with him. He could be mildly possessive, she noticed, but he appeared caring and loving; he tried to ensure she was comfortable.

Yet shortly after their wedding, things changed. During their honeymoon, he displayed an “insane level of jealousy,” accusing her of “staring at some boys at the pool and lusting after them.” She was taken aback and thought maybe he didn’t trust her yet, so she tried hard to convince him that this wasn't true. He seemed appeased and was able to be reasoned with.

After returning home, they hosted a pooja (Hindu religious ceremony). When he saw her speaking to a male relative, he became enraged. Following her upstairs, he slapped her, leaving her stunned. He quickly apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again.

But later in the pooja, angered again, he began strangling her. “It was happening so fast,” she said. Once he let her go, with a house full of guests, she felt she had no choice but to clean herself up and continue hosting.

The Cycle of Abuse

And then it began. After every incident, he would express regret and apologize—yet as soon as she recovered, it would happen again. She admits to not recognizing the abuse and excusing the behaviors. She felt he had two personalities—one who showered her with love and one who was abusive. She often wondered who the real person was.

Early on, her husband agreed to marriage counseling. In the third meeting, the counselor requested an individual session with him to express her concern. He ended therapy, saying that the therapist was “crazy.”

Life continued and so did the abuse. They traveled around the world, leaving Madhu with a painful memory of abuse in each country they visited. But she wanted to believe he would change. Her mother-in-law lived with them; while hard of hearing, she had witnessed many of the episodes. She was too afraid of her son to intervene, as he would hit her as well.

Embarrassment and shame often prevent South Asian women from speaking out in abusive situations. Madhu felt too afraid of judgment to say anything: “I would collapse, pick myself back up, put on a strong face, and forgive him every time.” Though he could be loving, she walked on eggshells, carefully choosing her words, looks, and clothing to avoid setting him off.

For five years, she lived in fear, keeping up a strong front, even as her family noticed changes. Madhu stayed silent, worried about shame and protecting her family’s reputation—common concerns for South Asian women, given cultural expectations around gender and family. Her abuser likely used this to his advantage; he knew she wouldn’t leave.

Alcoholism and Abuse

Alcohol can exacerbate violence but is not a necessary component of it. Madhu's husband drank throughout the marriage; she began mapping the abuse and the drinking together, thinking alcohol was the problem. Things got more intense whenever he drank.

One Thanksgiving, when she was pregnant, he was drunk and kicked her stomach. He later apologized and swore to never drink again—and stuck with it. Yet the abuse never stopped.

The Beginning of the End

The abuse continued up until her daughter was two years old. Madhu's husband owned several guns and would often threaten her with them, telling her he would kill their daughter and her family. He would also threaten to “take Hasini away so that she would never see her again.” Though young, her daughter was conscious and aware, and Madhu could see the terror in her eyes. At this time, Madhu “started to wake up,” she said. She asked herself, “What am I doing?”

It soon came to a head. One day, her husband angrily called Madhu's mother, saying he was going to divorce her. At this point, Madhu was done. She told her family about everything—except the physical abuse. However, when her sister asked, “Did he ever hit you?” Madhu broke down, finally disclosing what had been going on for years.

Getting Help and Getting Out

Madhu’s maternal instincts took over; she was determined to protect her daughter. Though she’d avoided calling the police, believing “you don’t do that to family,” her best friend encouraged her to reach out to the organization for South Asian women facing intimate partner violence where she now works.

She was initially defensive, she said: “I don’t belong here; I’m a confident, financially stable woman." Yet Madhu’s perspective shifted when the counselor explained the abuse cycle. Recognizing her own story, she broke down. The organization guided her on legal options, a restraining order, and her rights—information she, like many, hadn’t been aware of.

Mental Health Impact

Those who experience intimate partner violence are often in denial, whether they excuse or minimize the abuse or admit it’s happening but don’t seek help.

Madhu admitted to being in "total denial." She often felt alone, crying privately. Work became her escape, helping her avoid him and compartmentalize her emotions. She suffered from PTSD, feeling anxious when men made eye contact or when she was reminded of past experiences.

Now, she feels "on the other side" of it. Though her daughter still struggles with the absence of a father, therapy has been very helpful. Today, Madhu works to empower others to move forward without shame or guilt.