[Translated from Spanish. Reminder: IIWIARS is English only]

Friends, I feel deeply outraged at my community. How is it possible that the spirit of speaking out is not embraced? How can a society exist where wrongdoing is approved, accepted, and even—supposedly—tolerated? I am furious.

In my own home, speaking out was not allowed. Once, I reported my mother, and my father retaliated while my mother punished me. What kind of mother does that? She does bad things and then doesn’t want to be held accountable—instead, she conditions everything so she won't be called out? So that she’s protected and coddled? What kind of mother is that?

Tell me—what kind of mother encourages wrongdoing? When I saw that kind of behavior at home, it was the moment I realized things were very, very wrong. At first, I stayed quiet because I was confused about what “normal” parenting looked like. I thought violence, especially within the family, was somehow acceptable or even expected. But all I was doing was walking right into a dead-end that usually ended in a beating—just for reacting in ways they didn’t like.

Yes, maybe I responded harshly or impulsively as a kid—and I’m not trying to justify it—but today I understand those reactions were, in fact, justified. My parents were authoritarian. How the hell wasn’t I going to push back when I was trapped in their home during their toxic marriage? It made no sense to demand peace when their very demand was a gateway to more abuse. Their expectations were completely unfair. Completely.

When I finally realized all this, it hit me hard. For over 15 years, I carried the guilt of believing I had been the problem. But the truth is, I was just seeing myself through a lens of indifference—a reality where I wasn’t treated like a person, but like a toy they could manipulate however they wanted. I didn't even notice that I was being dehumanized. That’s why I developed such an emotionally distant way of being, isolating myself from others without understanding why.

In the end, that kind of upbringing—where reporting abuse was forbidden, and empathy was absent—destroyed my social life. People started drifting away from me, to the point where they’d only reach out when they really needed something. That was the only way anyone socialized with me, and I went along with it—just because I craved any interaction at all. I remember pointing this out to a friend once. I honestly feel like crying: an entire life thrown away because of those two core wounds.

I used to ask myself why everything at home was like that, and my parents would just tie me up in excuses, shaped by deeply broken identities. I’m scared to even express this—I’ve been censored before, especially for saying things like this on that other platform. But the truth is, what they called “help” turned into a sad form of isolation. And it makes me think of a doctor I once saw—her behavior seemed odd, almost abrupt in how she reacted. I get the feeling I might have unknowingly hurt her somehow... though maybe that’s just in my head. I don’t know where this conflicting emotion comes from.

All of this got reinforced by the biases I inherited from my family environment. I was completely lost back then—disconnected from reality, and I didn’t even realize it. How could this have happened to me? It tainted my elementary years, high school, and university, leaving me with almost no friends by the end of it all. That hurts. Because it wasn’t my fault—it was my parents’.

No wonder I’m so angry about what I said about my community.

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