“Men in my family” is the only reason I am not married
Whenever a girl from our community, Indian Muslim, eloped or should I say ‘chose to marry the guy of her choice’, my grandmother called my mom to warn her about me.
“Because educated girls elope”
As a middle-class Muslim girl who chose to go to college over getting married at 18, I was a black sheep of the family. According to them, girl who go to college are destined to get married to a non-Muslim. a.k.a elope.
Falling in love and running away with a non-muslim chap was their greatest fear. If I was in love with a Muslim boy too, I would still bring shame to the family. Hush Hush “LOVE MARRIAGE” = shame.
Basically falling in love, meant end of my education. Men were a speed bump on my way to education. So I stayed single and focused on studies. If I didn’t, and if I never fell in love, I would fall straight into and endless pit called marriage.
No No. Not to the guy who I am in love with. He would be beaten up by some goons my muslim well-wishers would send for him. And I would be locked-up at my uncles place. Then they would find me a muslim chap, Dubai or Riyadh, I would get married to him in no time.
STUDYING AS A MUSLIM GIRL
Now that I had crossed the 12th standard threshold, without jeopardising the honor of the family. I am promoted. I am now eligible to marry a graduate. An accountant in Dubai may be. So my parents let me go to college. For 3 years, the great convent college for women became the creche where many muslim girls like me would be fostered or babysat until a suitable graduate came to ask for our hand.
Many of my class-mates dropped out of college because they got married. I wasn’t going to be one of them.
“Muslim girls are not allowed to have ambitions” that’s how my uncles and cousins taunted me.
“What would you do studying, you will end up washing utensils in your husband’s house”
“Save those degrees and certificates, they will be helpful to wipe your babies ass when he poops”
I wasn’t allowed to go on college trips or participate in the college festivals. I had to wrap ourselves head-to-toe in loose black abhaya every time I stepped out of home. If college ended at 4.00pm for 4.30pm I had to be home.
My uncle had his spies across the city. Not really spies. They are his narrow minded friends, whose job was to keep an eye on every Muslim girl studying in my college. Some kinda permitted stalking in my uncle’s logic. Anyway, we always got an update if by any chance I changed my bus route on a particular day.
No one cared that I was actually a good student, who got straight “A(s)” in all my subjects.
GROWING UP WITH MY BROTHER, AN APPRENTICE IN MISOGYNY
My brother is only a year younger than me. That is perhaps his biggest regret. Because as a younger brother there is only so much he could boss over me.
We studied in the same school. Our teachers were exceptionally fond of me, because I was a talented student. They never missed an opportunity of reminding him how his sister was better than him.
After being compared to his older sister all his school life, he had a chance to be the BETTER ONE at home
He was a better Muslim, because his sister was dyslexic and struggled to read Arabic.
Even better, every month for over 8 days, she was not allowed to read/study Quran, so he would be ahead of her at least in Quranic studies.
The best moments of his life came during our late teen years, when every moment of mine was tracked, he was assigned to be my bodyguard and my uncles’ personal informer.
This one time I was 16, may be 17. It was my cousin’s wedding. I had invited a few of my girlfriends over. I had also I worn a saree. After the function, I left the “Woman’s section” of the wedding hall to see my girlfriends off. I would my uncle’s glaring eyes follow me. I knew a new drama awaiting.
This time, my uncle called my bother and said that like a whore I had left the ladies’ section and come out without a “haya”. And that there was no point telling my mother, as she is the one encouraging my “shamelessness.” That my mother was useless and as a man of the house it’s his job to keep the women of our house grounded.
My father was in the middle east. So my brother did assume the responsibility of guarding us. He was the youngest at home. Mom and I didn’t give too much attention to his hue and cries about me and my freedom. He got to be the man of the house, when my father came to India during his vacations. Even before I could show him my Awards and Certificates, my brother would present him a list of my flaws.
“She has boy-friends in school, she studies with them after school” I was helping them out in Math and Science, because my teacher had asked me to.
“She shakes hand with boys” — I was winning inter-school/inter-college competitions and people would congratulate me.
“She wants to go have coffee with her friends, do other girls in our family do that? This one should have been born in a christian family”
And so, my brother drew me away from my father and himself. So much so, that I wouldn’t even tell them if I was genuinely in trouble. This one time I had a real stalker problems. But, if had I told my brother about it, it would perhaps work against me.
FIRST THING I DID AFTER MOVING OUT OF THAT TOWN IS GIVE UP ABAYAH
I personally don’t align to the idea that Hijab or Burkha are signs of oppression of Muslim women. In the dreadful town I grew up it, Abayah was empowering in a way that, I would wear one and leave my house alone, without my body-guard brother. In fact wearing a Burkha I had travel to college in public transport and completed my education.
That was the only reason I wore it, it was a black cloak that gave me freedom from misogyny at home for a while.
At the all women’s college, was a different person. I was me. I found my voice. I found the education I needed to open my mind. The strength I needed to voice out ‘inequality’. It was some sort of training my parents didn’t anticipate. We were thought to be independent, or never depend on man, or their opinion. It’s also where I learnt “We”, as women, are so much capable, individually and collectively.
Thanks to this education, I gathered courage to be financially independent. Call off a wedding. Stay single. Adopt a cat child when my hormones started acting up.
I m personally been on and off with the Hijab (head covering). That’s not because of some oppressive man. Taking on a Hijab for a GOD was a beautiful sacrifice. It was a kind of submission to Allah I had really enjoy.
Mostly I were Hijab just to represent the Indian Muslim community where ever I go.
It’s my way of giving out a message: “Seriously, educate your girls, don’t control or scrutinize their every move. Let them study and be independent, let they have ambitions, see dreams and grow into fabulous women leaders, the world needs right now”
In no mood to be married, to a muslim man like my brother or my uncle.
Only a few years ago my father retired and started living with us. And he is nothing like my Uncle or Brother.
If I am educated, financially independent, and I thought I was fighting the system, my parents were too. It took me a long time to realise that.
In that time, I had grown so anti-men, that I forgot there is another breed of men like my father. Men, who don’t think women are some kind of exotic Persian cats that your neighbor’s may steal away if you let them out of your homes.
I think my father too understands the root of my paranoia. He assures my mother, she can take care of herself. That gives me strength.
I am not asking anyone here to stay single or get married. It’s a personal choice. I wrote this article after I spoke to my mother and father about the fears in my head. All of them stemming from the horrific childhood I had.
After I spoke out. My mother confessed that she had kept me like a prisoner in my own house. Because she was often told, educated girls always runaway.
After I and a couple of my cousin(sisters) completed our university studies, they went on to get married to educated men, and I started working. None of us eloped by the way. Things have started getting better in my town. My younger cousins are allowed to graduate with no fear of dropping out in between. I am sure they are still not allowed to talk to boys. But that’s really okay. There is this realization that if we educated our girls, they are more likely to get marriage-proposals from educated-boys and have a better life.
That’s just a drop in ocean. There is still so much to fight for, so many perceptions to be changed.
Like, “Educated women don’t leave their husbands for financial freedom” No, they leave ABUSIVE husbands seeking for a better life.
Like, “Working women don’t respect men”. No! They respect themselves and those who respect them.
“Women who don’t wear Hijab to work are characterless.” Hijab or no hijab. That’s none of your business. It’s their personal choice.
“Women who wear Hijab to work are not oppressed at home”. They have a bigger responsibility. They are setting examples for girls in oppressive homes that education can set you free. Back off! Stop poking you nose in their hijab!