My mother's kohl-lined eyes startle me and make my heart skip a beat, and I realize -
She is growing younger each day.
My mother, in my childhood memory, is wisps of herself: weary, hesitant, a child on each hip, good-wife, good-daughter-in-law, tired, obedient, and then, later, angry, frustrated, lost, sad in a way that made me feel ashamed, as if I was responsible for the trajectory of her life.
My mother, now, grows more real to me: her shoulders firmer, her back straighter, her laugh more quick to come at my silly jokes and naughty suggestions; she is stronger, more solid, pulling together the faded bits of herself and shaping herself into something more, into someone of her own.
My mother studies for exams and practises a new language she would never have considered; she leaves her house with a determined step even if it is only to go into the sun and read a book; she has learned to say "No," and it lends her strength
My mother belongs to herself, now, more than she ever did before. She is still wife, and mother, and daughter-in-law, but more than that, she is herself. She loves herself more, and I love her all the more for it - she is no longer the woman whose fate I feared for myself, but who has taken her fate and changed it to her own choosing.
One day, perhaps, I will be as strong as my mother, and take my own fate, and make it mine.
She is growing younger each day.
My mother, in my childhood memory, is wisps of herself: weary, hesitant, a child on each hip, good-wife, good-daughter-in-law, tired, obedient, and then, later, angry, frustrated, lost, sad in a way that made me feel ashamed, as if I was responsible for the trajectory of her life.
My mother, now, grows more real to me: her shoulders firmer, her back straighter, her laugh more quick to come at my silly jokes and naughty suggestions; she is stronger, more solid, pulling together the faded bits of herself and shaping herself into something more, into someone of her own.
My mother studies for exams and practises a new language she would never have considered; she leaves her house with a determined step even if it is only to go into the sun and read a book; she has learned to say "No," and it lends her strength
My mother belongs to herself, now, more than she ever did before. She is still wife, and mother, and daughter-in-law, but more than that, she is herself. She loves herself more, and I love her all the more for it - she is no longer the woman whose fate I feared for myself, but who has taken her fate and changed it to her own choosing.
One day, perhaps, I will be as strong as my mother, and take my own fate, and make it mine.
2 comments:
assalamualaikum zainab,
i've seen your writing on sex abuse of muslim children on alt.mulimah and that youre really the only one who's written about it with any real force/research.
i'm a victim of the same within madaaris and am wondering if you'd like to collaborate on a documentary about the same to raise awareness and help empower muslim children against it.
please advise, many thanks!
uthman
Wa alaikumussalaam wa rahmatullaahi wa barakaatuh,
Please contact me via email: anonymouse.almajnoonah@gmail.com
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