An Oppressed Childhood

Healing is the responsibility of every mother

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Ever since I can remember, I have felt betrayed by God. I always wondered, “Why give me intelligence and the power to decide when He made me inferior to men?” What am I doing in this world if it belongs to men, and I am just a subordinate?” I have felt the burden of injustice throughout my childhood.

I always question why my mother had to butter my father’s toast when we siblings did so for ourselves. Why can’t my father butter his toast? Polish his shoes? Iron his clothes? If you do things out of love and reciprocate the same kindness and care, those things do not matter. But such reciprocation was nowhere there.

One hardly seeks a cure for a disease she doesn’t know she has.

I was the only person in my household of six individuals bothered by this. I often questioned my father. I often questioned the gender roles. At that time and age (the 90s), there was no concept of gender roles, gender expectations, and equality. These thoughts tormented me my whole childhood. Pakistan’s culture eroded my sense of self-worth. Rebellion fractured my family bonds, casting me out of society. I acquired the parasitic disease of chronic depression.

I strive daily to shield my daughter from unfair treatment. I hope they acknowledge her based on…