Growing up was the first thing I wanted in my childhood. And yes I did it. I grew up from a toddler to an adult. It was a ride through years, a bumpy ride with loads of memories. So, this is a letter to the people who made me a version of something I don’t like. And this letter goes to… To my brother for telling me I stutter when I’m nervous, now I cannot speak in front of a crowd. To my teacher for telling me I didn’t have the spark, I touched a socket with wet hands. To my best friend for ridiculing me, now I don’t make best friends. To my grandmother for disliking me because I’m a girl, now I think I don’t deserve love. To my mother for not appreciating my work, I’ve burnt down all my poems. To my aunt for telling me I don’t have the perfect smile, now I cover my face with my hands every time I laugh. To my step brother, now I cannot confide in any man. To my class fellows for not drinking from my cup because I don’t believe in Muhammad (S.A.W), now I don’t believe in GOD too. To my father for cheating on my mom, now I see marriage as a suffering and pain not a bond of love. To my boss for telling me I didn’t have the looks for a job, now I am a sexist devil. To my fiancé for calling me fat, now I feel strange in my own body. To the boys who killed an actor in me in my first play, now I don’t dream of anything big. To my husband who didn’t became a friend, now I feel like your slave. To my daughter for yelling at me, now I am ashamed when I look at you. To everyone who destroyed the best of me. You made me who I am today. It’s not what I wanted. This mirror doesn’t reflect me, it reflects you. A wounded soul, a scratched body, a diseased mind and a broken heart is what I am, stop creating more like me. Stop.
A scarred soul.
I am scared right now, my mom is going to visit the doctor and I am scared. Yesterday, I heard her crying over the phone, begging my Y chromosome donor to accept me and last night she has taken a decision, a decision that is surely going to change everything for me. My mother is crying, she is wailing, she is moaning and she is cursing me. I don’t know why she is cursing me. Was it my fault when she gave her body to that coward with her consent? Was it my fault when she choose a pathetic desperate loser like him? Was it my fault when she decided to cross all the limits set by her parents? Was it my fault that she didn’t know how to take care of her feelings and her body? And is it my fault that my father is a coward. Is it my fault that my father can take leisure from a girl’s body but cannot accept the consequence of his actions? Is it my fault that this society doesn’t call these two filthy but me? Is it my fault that I am an illegitimate child but not their actions? Why my mother wants to kill me? Why her friends are suggesting her to get an abortion? I was not the one who asked for it. And when I can feel that I am her part she is deciding to get rid of me, how she can be so cruel, how she can let me bear the brunt of their stupidity. They shouldn’t be planning to get rid of me instead they should be planning how to muster up the courage so they can take responsibility of their actions. Aren’t all parents made of honey and sugar? Aren’t all parents responsible? Don’t all the children have right to live? Don’t they?
(This letter is written from the perspective of an Asian girl)
Being an Asian girl I strictly believe that my parents are the ones who I trust completely to choose a perfect husband for me. But it doesn’t mean that my choice has no value before them. So, let’s meet for just one time before I take this gigantic decision of my life, I don’t want to share my precious moments blindly with a man I haven’t seen once, my society and religion has given me this right so who the hell are our relatives to tell us what we should do and what we shouldn’t. I have a past that is as clear as spring water and I expect the same from you, why do I get a piece of meat that is already bitten; when I am giving you a fresh piece of raw meat. I want to build a relationship of trust, respect and love with you, I want to fall in love with you then I want to share bed with you, I am not a mistress whom you can please with an expensive gift. I am studying law not to make round rotis for you and your family but I want to pursue my career, I want to complete my specialization in my field. I am not a lottery ticket to bring you all the expensive dowry, what my parents are going to give me is for my personal use and ease, not to fulfill your unfulfilled desires (ask your parents, not mine for that). I am not gonna live in an abusive relationship, because I know what the law is and how do I have to use it. I shall support our house if there is need but it doesn’t mean that I am going to watch you do nothing from monetary point of view. I don’t expect you to say anything to your mother when I tell you something about her; nor do I expect you to say anything to me when she says anything about me, that will help us in maintaining a calm and peaceful atmosphere in our house. I want to hold your hand when the doctors take me to the labor room, not my mother’s. I need you each and every minute during the upbringing of our children, because kids are not easy to handle. I want to spend a vacation with you not with a man who is distant several miles away from me clinging to the cell phone. I don’t want a cheater and I don’t want you to have a cheater too, so if we can balance our relationship neither of us has to blame one another. I can wait for you to return home from work late at night but I also expect you not to make fuss when I ask you to take me to my parents’ house. I want to keep the spark alive in our relationship even after 27 years of our marriage, so that I can feel butterflies in my stomach every time you touch me like the first time you embraced me and those stars in your eyes like the time you saw me when I walked down the aisle.