Bruises we can’t see: The lasting impact of childhood violence

We rarely talk about the boys who were hit. In many South Asian homes, physical discipline is passed down like tradition – justified as love, masked as guidance, and normalised as necessity. “It’s how we were raised,” they say. But behind closed doors, many sons grew up flinching at footsteps, internalising fear as respect, and mistaking pain for love. These boys learned to stay silent. They grew into men who struggle to express, connect, or even feel – not because they lack the capacity, but because they were taught to suppress it to survive.

This silence doesn’t end in childhood. It lingers in adulthood as outbursts of rage, emotional shutdown, broken relationships, and mental health struggles that go unnamed and unrecognised. This article explores the hidden toll of culturally sanctioned childhood violence – not just on bodies, but on minds, hearts, and the generations that follow.

It’s time we asked: What really happens when we hit our sons?

Many sons were taught to respect, endure, not answer back or question their elders and parents. Be strong and never show weakness. But what these young boys are not taught is what happens to their mental development and emotional regulation when they endure, often in silence.

Conditions of worth refer to the belief that one must meet certain expectations and be of a certain value in order to be worthy of love.

In a family context, it can manifest as the idea that love, approval, or affection is only given when the child behaves in a certain way, such as being obedient, achieving success, or fulfilling specific roles.

For example, a child may feel that they are only "worthy" of love or attention if they perform well academically or behave in a way that aligns with their parents' expectations. This creates a sense of insecurity, as the child internalises the belief that they must earn love or respect, rather than feeling inherently valuable as they are.

However, in many homes, especially South Asian homes, it doesn't stop at giving a silent message that the child is not loved if they did not meet certain conditions – it's taken further to a point of physical violence.

The understanding is that hitting is discipline and is meant to teach the sons a lesson. But what the young boys are really learning is that aggressive behaviour is OK, violence is OK.

When violent parenting is challenged, many will respond by explaining that hitting is a form of love. A very contradictory message. I spoke to some men recently about their experience of being hit as children. They report being told that they were hit because their parents loved and cared for them – it would blow anyone's mind – the audacity to manipulate your own children is beyond disturbing. Intentional or unintentional, does it matter?

This confusing message only taught the men that aggression is OK as long as you also love the person you are aggressive towards. Something that often creates an abusive environment in the later years of these men's personal lives – they learned that hitting is a sign of love.

Getting angry at a child and losing temper to the point of hitting implies one thing: the adult cannot regulate their own thoughts and emotions, and has a lot of self-development to do. However, in many Pakistani and South Asian homes, it is believed that the son must be so naughty that parents ‘have to’ hit to control him and discipline.

The child often settled after physical abuse, not because they understood what was asked of them, but because the child got upset, traumatised, and hurt, not just physically.

In joint families, it's not just the parents or dads who feel they have a right to hit the child – the ‘permission’ is given to any other aunts, uncles, or grandparents who live with the child to ‘discipline,’ leaving no safe space for the child’s self-esteem and self-respect to build.

The culture shows a concerning lack of understanding that children should also be respected. Respect is not only for adults and parents.

The psychological impact of being hit as a child – especially by a caregiver – can be profound and long-lasting. While the physical pain fades, the emotional and psychological consequences often linger well into adulthood.

Here's a breakdown of some key effects:

Emotional dysregulation

Children who are hit may grow up struggling to manage their emotions. Because their early experiences taught them that big feelings (like anger, sadness, or frustration) are met with pain or punishment, they often learn to suppress, avoid, or explode emotionally rather than process feelings in healthy ways. As adults, they learn impulsive behaviours and often struggle to articulate any difficult emotions with correct and descriptive words, but more with hand gestures and abusive language.

Low self-worth and shame

Being hit can send a child the message that they are "bad," unlovable, or inherently flawed – especially when punishment is harsh, unpredictable, or delivered without explanation. This fosters internalised shame and a belief that they must earn love through compliance or achievement. Over-compliance is a way to prove to others that they are worthy of love, and is an attempt to want to be seen.

Fear-based attachment

Children may come to associate love with fear, especially if the people meant to protect them are also the source of harm. This creates insecure attachment patterns, where trust, intimacy, and emotional safety become difficult to navigate in adult relationships.

Aggression or withdrawal

Some children model what they’ve experienced and become more aggressive, believing violence is how you gain control or respect. Others withdraw, becoming passive, anxious, or overly compliant in an attempt to avoid conflict. Aggression is something I have always noticed working closely with the South Asian community – it is normalised, sadly. ‘He’s not bad, he just gets angry too quickly.” Only if the angry man had any safe space to speak without fear of being hit growing up, he might have learned to articulate difficult emotions in a way that doesn't hurt anyone else.

Hypervigilance and anxiety

Living in an environment where physical punishment is common often creates chronic stress. These children may become hypervigilant – always on edge, scanning for danger – leading to anxiety disorders and difficulties feeling safe or grounded.

Difficulty expressing vulnerability

Because vulnerability was often punished rather than nurtured, many survivors of childhood violence struggle to express emotions like sadness, fear, or need. This can create emotional distance in relationships and block healing. Being hit doesn’t “toughen up” children – it teaches them that love hurts, that safety is conditional, and that their bodies and feelings don’t deserve respect. True strength comes not from suppression, but from connection, empathy, and healing.

The roughness and illiteracy of these Asian cultures have only built a generation of broken, dysregulated, emotionally scarred men, who are not functioning but are mimicking their elders/parents' aggressive and abusive behaviours. The intergenerational trauma goes round in circles.

How therapy can help

Healing begins with honesty – recognising that being hit as a child wasn't OK and it was not discipline. It was harmful and often caused by those who are meant to protect and keep these young boys safe.

Many South Asian men grow up believing they need to stay silent, to “be strong,” or that their feelings don’t matter. But healing starts the moment they give themselves permission to feel what was once denied: pain, sadness, fear – and the right to be heard and the right to speak and feel.

Recognising history with honesty is not about blaming or shaming parents – it's about knowing what you need to do to live a healthier and happier life, without feeling on edge.

With the support of the right therapist, you can explore vulnerable emotions in a safe and non-judgmental environment. Make sense of emotional patterns and begin unlearning harmful beliefs. An approach that can work well with the work of the inner child is psychodynamic therapy.

With the right therapist, men can rebuild a relationship with themselves – one rooted not in shame or survival, but in compassion, understanding, and emotional freedom – so you can pass on love and compassion to those who may depend on you.