When my husband arrived, I waited for him to defend her, to draw a line that could not be crossed. Instead, he muttered that hair grows back. In that instant, I understood that silence in the face of harm is its own kind of consent.
That night, Lucía clung to her doll and refused to eat. I stayed beside her, realizing that anger alone would not protect her. Action would.
By morning, I had contacted a lawyer and spoken with her school. A counselor gently asked questions and documented everything. A child psychologist later confirmed that Lucía had experienced emotional trauma.
I filed a formal complaint, not out of vengeance, but out of necessity. In court, evidence replaced argument—reports, evaluations, written messages that revealed a pattern of control disguised as tradition. The judge stated clearly that a child’s well-being must come first and that allowing harm is a form of participation in it.
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