An Apology to My Family

I’m sorry for not speaking out openly about the violence, abuse, and harm in our family earlier. My Mama experienced real physical and mental violence from a family member for decades while many looked on or tried to blame the victim. While speaking out now did land me in some hot water (especially on WhatsApp, where I’ve been kicked out of a family group and received some critical messages), all in all, my actions have done far more good than harm, leading to real healing and clarity. It’s been a profoundly invigorating experience.

Yet, I’m not claiming to stand on some sort of moral high ground. I should have spoken out about this decades earlier, and I’m still reflecting on why I didn’t. I don’t think it was due to missing courage; I also don’t think it was because I didn’t see the pain before. I think it was because I dismissed the situation too readily. For this, I’m sorry—to my Mama and Papa, to my sisters, and also to you, my extended family.

What Makes the Extended Family Part of This?

As I’ve heard loud and clear from some of you: “Sort it out amongst yourselves!”; “I don’t want anything to do with your conflict.”

I think it’s worth explaining a profound misunderstanding and why this view could benefit from a wider lens. The misunderstanding lies in the word “conflict.” This is not about some interpersonal spat where two balanced parties have a disagreement. It’s about real physical and psychological harm inflicted by one family member on another. It’s about mental illness and abuse.

Families are supposed to offer unconditional support, a buffer against adversity, and a vehicle to mitigate—not amplify—trauma, stress, and pain. They’re meant to provide meaning and purpose, grounding their members in a larger narrative. Families embody continuity and enable individuals to transcend their mortality by contributing to a legacy. These ideas are deeply ingrained in what it means to be human.

But families aren’t perfect or immutable. They can’t always fulfill their potential without effort from everyone involved. And yes, I’ve seen a lot of wonderful moments in our family—bliss, humor, and solidarity. Those bonds are real, and I’m grateful for them. At the same time, I believe that part of the “social and cultural contract” of family is having the courage to confront and work through painful realities when they arise. That’s not easy, but it’s necessary.

What happened to my Mama for decades—and what continues to happen—is a violation of that contract. It’s not something that should have been ignored or explained away, but it was.

Where To Go from Here

I don’t expect anyone in the extended family to transform overnight or even agree with everything I’ve said. Healing and clarity have already taken root within me and my immediate family, and for that, I’m grateful. But I do think there’s potential for deeper bonds in our extended family if we take small steps toward meaningful conversations.

I understand that not everyone wants to dive into these topics, and that’s fine. Keeping distance is a valid choice, and I respect that. At the same time, I’m always available to talk. If anyone wants to have a private conversation about this—to ask questions, share their perspective, or just reflect together—I’m here.

I’ll continue being transparent about my actions and intentions. My focus is on standing by vulnerable or attacked individuals in the family and making sure their experiences aren’t buried. I’ll also keep deeply engaged in my parents’ lives, speaking openly about both the damage done and the progress we’re making in healing.

This isn’t just about me, though. I think we all have a responsibility to approach family dynamics with balanced views. That doesn’t mean blindly accepting my version of events—or anyone else’s—but rather being open to hearing different sides and recognizing when harm has been done. Even small shifts in perspective can strengthen trust and understanding within the family.

Thank you for reading.

Max

Critical Questions

Here are some critical questions I’ve received that I feel are important to address.

Q1: “You speak out against aggression, yet I think what you’re doing is aggressive. Are you blind to your on hypocrisy?”

There is a fundamental and important difference between initiating harm and preventing harm. Aggression is the unjust imposition of force while the moral use of force is a defensive act to preserve dignity and well-being. My intent is to prevent harm and I fully understand that when taken in isolation, some or my recent actions may seem aggressive to some.

It’s easy to conflate the external appearance of using strength with unprovoked aggression, but to be truly aggressive, one must intend harm or domination. My intention is precisely the opposite: to safeguard vulnerable people from immediate and persisting harm and danger. Since we are dealing with a mixture of physical and psychological causes and consequences, I’ve chosen to communicate openly with as wide of an audience as possible because lies wither under scrutiny.

Q2: “What actions by the alleged aggressor led you to believe that malicious intent was deliberately directed at your parents within the family?”

The events in question span decades and exhibit a consistency that cannot easily be dismissed as mere misunderstandings or impulsive reactions. A discernible pattern emerges—intentional actions seemingly designed to harm my parents emotionally and socially. The central question remains whether this stems from deliberate malice or a profound lack of awareness of the consequences of one’s behavior, potentially exacerbated by psychological stress.

An example that stands out is the deliberate withholding of news about a close friend’s death, seemingly to cause my parents emotional pain. Such an act is far from accidental; it reveals a coldness that is difficult to reconcile with fundamental human values like compassion. Equally troubling is the manipulation of a long-time family friend to turn them against my mother—a clear attempt to harm others while securing personal advantage. This approach reflects a view of relationships not as mutual bonds but as tools to be exploited for personal gain.

Particularly distressing is the spreading of falsehoods designed to tarnish my parents’ reputation, such as the claim that my mother gave me away as a baby. These statements are deeply destructive—not only to my parents’ standing but also to the foundation of trust within our family and social circles. It seems narratives are being constructed not merely to distort the truth but to isolate the victims. This deliberate twisting of reality is incompatible with any desire for a harmonious relationship or even basic respect.

Another example includes the willingness to threaten my parents with financial harm or publicly demean them. While these actions are more recent, earlier incidents illustrate a similar lack of empathy—such as berating my mother for arriving a few minutes late to babysit because she was saying goodbye to a dying friend. Such reactions lack proportionality and empathy, foundational elements of any meaningful relationship. It suggests a conscious exploitation of others’ vulnerabilities to exert control—a dynamic that consistently exceeds the bounds of ordinary familial conflict.

Complicating matters is the recurring pattern of portraying oneself as the victim while simultaneously provoking and undermining others. This paradox creates a disturbing impression: on one hand, helplessness is emphasized; on the other, calculated behavior destabilizes those around them. This interplay of self-victimization and targeted harm leaves little room to believe these actions are merely accidental.

Of course, psychological issues may play a role. Perhaps some of these behaviors reflect inner conflict or emotional overwhelm. Yet this does not absolve one from responsibility for repeated injuries inflicted over years. Responsibility entails recognizing the impact of one’s actions, even when motives are complex. The persistence of destructive patterns, however, suggests something more than impulsiveness or thoughtlessness.

The most challenging aspect may be that someone so closely tied to the family repeatedly engages in actions that systematically undermine trust and affection. It becomes difficult to see a foundation for genuine connection in such behavior. When respect and compassion are absent, any relationship devolves into a one-sided affair where harm is either consciously or negligently accepted. These actions raise profound human questions: How far can one go before the foundation of coexistence is irreparably broken? Perhaps the tragedy lies in my parents’ inability to stop loving—a stubbornness that defines them but also leaves them vulnerable.