Sometimes it’s really not easy. I used to be a big sister. I used to be my sister’s partner in crime – always an open ear, a warm hug and all that. We used to have fun and giggle and dream of life and everything else. I used to have sisters who were my best friends.
My brother and his wife are expecting their first child. I talk to my family on the phone and sometimes I get emails with pictures.
I remember the first time I talked to my mom after I left. I could hear she missed me. I’m not saying she doesn’t miss me anymore, but this is not something she wouldn’t have had to deal with either way. Mothers kind of expect that their children won’t be home for the rest of their lives. But still.
I remember my sister’s funeral, and how things were kind of strange between me and everyone else. My siblings weren’t rejecting me, but it was noticeable that many things have changed.
My outlook on life and many things has changed, especially since I started University. I guess that’s just the natural consequence of it. And the more I change, the more I feel that my siblings, specifically my sisters, cannot see me the way I was hoping they would.
What I expected? I don’t know. I’m doing good in school, and I enjoy it. I recently talked to two of my sisters on the phone and things were… strange. They couldn’t relate to me. Everything I told them about my life seemed alien to them. They asked questions that were weird at some point, but understandable somehow. “Aren’t you depressed that you are all alone, that you have to care for everything by yourself?” “When will you marry?” “Do you have to sleep with your professor to get good grades?”. These are all things I believed to be true at one point in my life. That a woman by herself will end up severely ill because she’s not fit to care for herself. That Universities and colleges are places of rampant drug addiction and sex orgies. That a woman’s life cannot possibly be completely without a man.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell my family about minor changes in my life after hearing that. That a bought a suit to wear to interviews for the internships I want to do in summer. That, after growing my hair for the last year, I cut it very short again, because summer is coming and i cannot bear the stifling heat on my neck. And yes, because I do not want to spend so much time caring for my hair. That I eat out most of my days, and that I can afford to do so. That I work a lot and that I, when I have saved up some money, like to spend it on selfish things. That my roommate and I declared ourselves “H&M-Buddies for LIFE!” recently. That sometimes I listen to rap-music, when it’s on the radio, and sometimes I even sing along.
I realized just how terrible all of these things would look to them. I am THAT woman. The woman who selfishly spends her money on vain things instead of investing and sacrificing herself for an eternal reward. I am member of a group of women, the women who cry rape because they are vicious and likes to hurt men. Or the woman who aborts one child after another. That woman who does not know her place. That woman who acts like she’s a man – completely oblivious to the fact that no matter how hard she tries, she’ll never be as good. And if she is, then she’s probably a lesbian. That woman, who is everything patriarchy believes “feminists” to be.
Well. I cannot undo what has been done. I do not want to undo it. I am happy where I am. But I’m not happy that my family will always see me as an alien now. The lost daughter. Sometimes that just hits you right in the head, and you start wondering how it came to be. I cannot be someone others want me to be anymore. I guess I’ve just had enough freedom to know that everything else is a prison. It’s like realizing that you have been buried all your life, and you escaped your own grave. Do you think that, if you were actually freed from your grave, you would want to go back? No? I don’t think so either.