A social worker is stumped when he encounters a preschooler with small circular burns all over his body.
To the untrained eye, it looks like child abuse. But in an Asian neighborhood, the burns could also be the result of “cupping”–an ancient practice in which hot glasses are applied to the skin, creating a vacuum to draw out illness.
“You can see some fairly strange things out there,” said John Goad of the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services. “You have to be careful about not trampling on someone’s traditions. . . . But at the same time, you have to let the parents know that while you live in this culture, you have to adhere to these rules.”
The recent case in which an immigrant father was prosecuted for slapping his 8-year-old daughter illuminated the complexities of what happens when old-world customs collide with the new-country laws.
Hou-Lin Li pleaded guilty to a charge of battery last month after hitting his daughter, who lied about losing a ring. Some, including Cook County State’s Atty. Richard Devine, called it a clear case of child beating. Others, including many legal and child welfare experts, saw it as a case of overzealous prosecutors.
Either way, the business of how to communicate acceptable codes of conduct to immigrants can be a delicate one–especially in polyglot Cook County, where 30 percent of the population speaks a language other than English at home.
It isn’t just speech that’s an obstacle. Newcomers are often mystified by the complicated– near obsessive–government bureaucracy that polices family relationships in the United States.
Such red tape is totally alien to many immigrants–especially if they come from a male-dominated society in which the way a man disciplines his children (or wife) is a private matter to be resolved by the family, not the police or the courts.
In China, for example, where Li was a law professor, child-protection laws have been around only since 1992 and are murky, at best. While the fledgling legislation forbids the mistreatment of children, it doesn’t spell out what constitutes abuse. (The only specific abuse banned is the “drowning” of babies.)
In fact, Asian society, influenced mainly by Confucianism, considers the parent-child relationship above the rights of the state.
Schools do not encourage corporal punishment (except in India), though teachers are unlikely to be disciplined if they strike a student.
According to one Cambodian woman who lives in the south suburbs, slapping or occasionally kicking children was commonplace during her childhood. “That is why I’m afraid I might do something wrong,” said the 35-year-old woman, who works as a seamstress. When her 3-year-old son darted into the street recently, she gave him a good swat on the rear. In her homeland, she would have been well within her parental authority; here, it was weeks before she could stop looking over her shoulder.
“Every time the phone rang, I thought it might be the police coming to get me,” said the woman, who immigrated here five years ago. “I’m not sure anymore what is right or wrong.”
The law is no clearer to Carmen Rodriguez of Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood. In the rural Mexican village where she was raised, striking a child is still regarded as normal discipline. In fact, there is a Mexican saying, “La letra con sangre entra,” which means that a child learns better with a beating. While she concedes that authorities here would take a dim view of such tactics, she is frankly confused.
“If my daughter takes a lipstick from the store, will I be in more trouble for the stealing or if I slap her?” she asks plaintively.
Still, while most U.S. parents shun hitting, the nation is barely one generation into the anti-spanking crusade. Indeed, up until 50 years ago, corporal punishment in schools was legal in all but one state.
“Immigrants don’t know about timeouts,” said Louise Cainkar, a sociology professor at the University of Illinois at Chicago.
“This is First World versus Third World, and it will change over time, especially with increasing levels of education.”
In countries with a higher standard of living, child abuse is clearly on the radar screen. In Israel, for example, awareness of the issue has grown over the last decade. The news media now reports abuse cases on a regular basis and often follows up with reports on legal action taken against the parents. Hospital workers are on the alert for any signs of mistreatment, while organizations offer hot lines and legal help to kids.
Within Brazil’s middle class there is a strong taboo against public abuse. Parents rarely physically discipline their children in public and even the most benign action–such as a slap on the hand–sometimes provokes disapproval from observers.
However, even in the most advanced countries, you will rarely find the same type of suspicion and scrutiny as in the U.S. Witnesses are in no hurry to report abuse, nor are judges inclined to remove children from their parents.
“Our top priority is to rehabilitate the situation while the child remains at home and together with his family,” said Miriam Faber, head of Israel’s Child Protection Service, which has opened a new emergency service in the Arab sector and plans to open one in an ultra-Orthodox community this summer. “Unless there is a danger to his life, removing the child from his environment can often cause more damage than a violent parent can.”
In Japan and Italy–where parental control is viewed as sacrosanct–the story is much the same. “It is very difficult to take legal measures to restrict parental authority,” said Masayoshi Yanagisawa, a pediatrician at Tokyo University.
But many immigrants arrive without the scaffolding of an extended clan who share the same values and help keep a watchful eye over rebellious youth. And while the newcomers embrace America’s economic opportunities, other aspects of life here–such as gangs, drugs, interracial dating, premarital sex–terrify them.
Though newcomers may not understand abuse, their kids certainly do, said Cainkar, a board member of the Illinois Ethnic Coalition, which questioned Devine’s handling of the Li case. “They’ll say, `You touch me and I’m calling DCFS’ . . . they know about the law and they intimidate their parents with it.”
The child welfare system does not make allowances for ethnic customs when they endanger a child. “The issue is safety of kids,” said Goad, “and it doesn’t matter if it has a cultural underpinning.”
However, if the practice is cultural, DCFS might use a more educational response, said Goad, assistant deputy director of child protective services. “We might explain that `In your country, it might be quite acceptable for an 8-year-old girl to care for many younger children, but it’s not normal in our country and here’s why.’ “
Richard Macur Brousil, clinical director of child and adolescent psychiatry at Mt. Sinai Hospital Medical Center, is an anti-spanking crusader.
With the hospital adjacent to the Pilsen and Lawndale neighborhoods, traditional jumping-off points for new immigrants, he seizes upon any opportunity to teach alternative methods of discipline–at schools, with parent groups and ethnic organizations. Efforts, he says, are paying off.
“We hear from people who say they’re doing better,” Brousil said.
“They’re getting it . . . they may still yell and scream, but they are much less aggressive–and that’s primarily because of educational efforts. Things aren’t changing quickly, but they are changing.”
