Dear Mom,
Thank you and I am sorry.
I call myself a feminist and there are people who are put off by that. However, thank you for raising a feminist; through the books you made me read when I was 13 about ‘Afghan women during the Taliban reign’. When I was 10 and your encouraged me as I boldly declared “I won’t marry when I grow up”. (You could have been a realist and said, “Things change when you are older” but instead you nodded, “Yes, it is better that way”). Thank you for never making me feel awkward by asking me why I only had guy friends while growing up and never stopping me from speaking right out of my mouth before the words even processed through my head (although that might have been a risky move).
First, I would like to apologize.
While I was busy reading books about oppression and women living in poverty in various societies, posting on social media about the empowerment of women, debating with people over the gender gap and proudly waving my banner of ‘feminism’- for a moment, I forgot.
There were moments in my life when I was a part of the very problem that I am now challenging. And I think, I owe you an apology.
Mom, I am sorry. As a child, when someone asked me about my hometown, without blinking, I would utter the name of the town dad was raised in. Never for a second, did I consider your hometown as mine, the town where your mother grew up in nor the village that your grandmother grew up in. If we had the concept of family names in our culture, I for one, might have never considered your family name over dad’s (Thank goodness, we don’t have that). I am sorry for when I was in high school and every time I was hungry, my face would automatically tilt towards you and ask “What’s for dinner?”. I never looked at dad nor asked him the same question. Never did I ever ask him if he had seen my red socks while doing the laundry or if he has accidentally chucked my postcard in the bin while cleaning. And when guests came over and you vanished from the living room, as if the kitchen had literally sucked and trapped your existence inside it, I never asked dad to help you.
I was in middle school and before going to bed, when I would think of endless hypothetical situations, the idea of dad losing his job scared me more than the idea of you losing yours. You both loved your job equally and you both worked hard yet I easily undermined your job over dad’s. It took me an ex-boyfriend who made fun of feminism and told me he would rather have me stay at home than get a ‘liberal degree’ to realize what working meant to you as much as what education and female empowerment means to me.
I am still a hypocrite. When I go for back on breaks and the elderly people ask me whose daughter I am (to see if we are family friends or related), in an instant I dish out dad’s name like it was written and stored at the back of my tongue and then when they do not recognize him- I use yours as a second reference.
Dear mom, you did not need social media to posts or share your views on gender equality. You raised your three children(a boy and two girls) quietly- without keeping any of us from doing something that went against the norms of ‘gender roles’. Despite my flaws when I was younger, you did not point your fingers at my wrongdoing. Instead, you made me grow up and see it by myself. You loved and you healed. Growing up in a conservative family, you did not have many opportunities and you did not have someone to guide you either but that did not stop you from raising three feminists at home.
Mom, sorry that I am flawed but THANK YOU for being a feminist.