I hate the way desi parents talk about their daughters.
“hurry up and find a husband.”
“we need to get you married so our job can be done.”
“once you’re married, farigh ho jayenge.”
farigh is an urdu word that translates to free in english.
“once you’re married, we’ll finally be free.”
free from the task of hunting for a husband. free from the job of being parents. free from the burdens of having a daughter.
they don’t say the same for their sons.
no, mothers take care of their sons and once they’re older, it becomes the responsibilty of the wife. they look for a good wife to take care of their son. they’re sure to be picky about it, too. they have a list of requirements: she needs to be a certain height, a certain weight, she needs to dress a certain way, her skin can’t be too dark, she can’t be too opinionated, she can’t have been divorced before, she needs to be educated, and so on and so forth. never mind that their son will oftentimes hardly live up to those same expectations.
daughters are raised from such a young age to be so much, to go above and beyond, to constantly strive to be more. we’re put under so much stress with the high expectations. we’re brought up to constantly sacrifice and put the needs of others before our own. we’re also taught that we’re going to be something for someone else. always someone’s daughter, wife, or mother. and I’ve seen even the most “strong, independent woman” types in my family fall to this same cycle once they’ve had daughters of their own.
it starts off small with the “is that your boyfriend?” jokes. the “are you really going to wear that?” arguments. the “have you gained/lost weight?” comments. it turns into expecting us to pick up the slack at home when sons don’t do housework or cook/clean for themselves. it turns into us working in the kitchen the entire day, painstakingly preparing a meal for special occasions, only to barely get scraps since the men are served first. and then we’re expected to clean up the mess afterwards while the men relax. we’re meant to do it all with a smile on our face.
they try to package this message up like a pretty little present, talking about how it’s an honour, a privilege, something that every girl desires, something that we should dream about, but it doesn’t take away what it all comes down to:
“this is what’s expected of you.”
“you’re supposed to take care of the family.”
“this is your responsibilty.”
I didn’t sign up for this.
I don’t want this.
this isn’t something I desire.
this isn’t something I dream about.
this isn’t an honour or a privilege.
it’s an excessive pressure, it’s a heavy load, it’s an unfair burden.
it’s because of this that I feel so alienated and disconnected from womanhood, from femininity. being a daughter has put so much pressure on my shoulders that I don’t want to be one. and there’s so much grief surrounding that thought because it’s an identity crisis.
we’re expected to be nurturing and family-oriented. I don’t want to be married or raise a family. I don’t know how much of a role the burdens of being a daughter plays into that. I don’t want to have a husband. I don’t know how much of that is my dislike for how I was raised. what if I’m preventing myself from being happy by sticking to these thoughts? what if I’m sabotaging myself from having a fulfilling and happy future?
I don’t always identify as a woman. I don’t know how much of a role the societal pressures of being a woman plays into that. am I really not a woman because of that, or because I truly exist outside of the gender binary? is that enough? is that valid? and then there are the complicated feelings of wanting to be feminine, wanting to participate in womanhood, but not wanting to continue the cycle, not wanting to feel like a hypocrite.
logically, I know that wearing a dress doesn’t make me woman, wanting a family doesn’t make me a woman. logically, I know I need to unlearn all the things I was taught and redefine them to mean what suits and fits me best. but that’s also where there’s even more anger and grief because now I have to do even more work. if trying to live up to all these unfair expectations wasn’t enough, now I have to push myself even further and unlearn it all. more often than not, with zero support. and even more often than not, with active ridicule and gossip and contempt and mockery.
sticking to the status quo is more important than supporting daughters and ensuring their happiness and safety. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve been told I’m a disappointment for standing up for myself. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve been disrespected to my face and told to shake it off, to grin and bear it. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve been betrayed and insulted and abandoned by other women in order to appease men. I can’t count the amount of times my accomplishments have been downplayed and/or ignored in favour of hyping up some other man’s mediocre achievement.
we’re constantly taught to betray ourselves and tear each other down. I’ve been told to keep my head down, to be quiet, to not laugh too loud, to not raise my voice, to be demure and timid and ladylike and proper and perfect. I’ve been pitted against other women in attempts to keep me in line. “don’t be like her, she’s too loud.”, “don’t be like her, she dresses inappropriately.”, “don’t be like her, no one will want to marry you.”
there are so many rules to follow! there are too many expectations to live up to! and when we finally decide to no longer live up to those unfair expectations, to forge our own path and put ourselves first, we’re abandoned. we have to navigate all this self-doubt by ourselves. we have to pick ourselves up and carry on. we’re also labelled things like the “black sheep”. we’re used as examples for what not to do. we’re cautionary tales told to manipulate the younger generation, constantly painted in a bad light when all we really did was stand up for ourselves.
desi people like to claim that familial love is so important, that family is everything, but they don’t talk about how toxic the dynamics really are. parents feel so burdened when they have daughters that it translates into how they speak about them. it’s a job they need to be released from. they talk about how we’ll be someone else’s responsibilty in the future in the same breath that they talk about what a privilege it’ll be for us to raise our own families because that’s what every girl desires.
it’s so complicated and convoluted and layered, and it contributes to why I feel so disconnected from it all. from womanhood, from femininity, from society, from the desi community as a whole. and there’s so much grief in that because it’s human nature to seek connection and to feel connected to others.