I am the girl staring into the eyes of a small boy. A boy with such life in his eyes, such life and brightness I have seen in no other. Those eyes I stare into as confusion slowly fill them after listening to what I had to ask. I watch as those eyes that, only moments before, were lost and confused suddenly light up and smile. I watch as this little boy's eyes so joyous and carefree look up at me, ten, I hear him happily repear what I had asked him. This is the little boy who's footsteps I used to hear early in the morning. The little boy whose laugh used to fill the house. The little boy who's tantrums and cries took happiness away. This is a boy who is now far away, but is always near, a boy I will see again soon but miss anyway. This is the little boy who lights up my life. I am the girl staring into the eyes of a small boy.
I am the girl hiding safe behind the four walls of my room, sitting with my back against the wall farthest from the door. There, I sit, with my stereo booming as loud as it can, barely hearing a thing. There, I sit, the wall and floor shaking to the beat of the music sending vibrations through my body, barely feeling a thing. There, I sit, behind the safe walls of my room, only hearing my mother's screams as the hands that had once held her close turned into fists that leave behind wounds, that never heal, as the furniture she so carefully picked out crasjes into pieces around her. There, is where I sit and will remain sitting until those hands that had once held me so fear opened a door and destroyed the safety behind those four walls that were my sanctuary only minutes before. I am the girl hiding safe behind the four walls of my room.
I am the woman in need of a way out, rapped in a society where women who don't cover their faces are considered impure, where women are forced into marriages arranged by parents, where women are deprived of the education they deserve and need. Trapped, because of being terrified of the shame my family will go through if I was to leave. In need of a way out of the household run by an abusive husband, a way to escape the names I am called due to accusations of crimes I did not commit. This is the society where men dominate and where any woman brave enough to fight against the crimes committed by men are severely punished. The society in which I stand helpless as women are punished and murdered in the name of justice for crimes equally committed by men. The society so perfect on the outside but drowning in secrets and lies on the inside. I am a woman in need of a way out.
I am the woman who is treated different. Treated different because the color of my skin is not the same as that of the 'real Americans'. Despite trusting me to raise their children, cook their meals wash their clothes, and clean their houses, I am not trusted not to steal their valuables, to use their bathroom or to eat from their plates. All I can do is watch as the children I worked endlessly to raise as their parents. All I can do is nod as my 'real American' employer insults my people, my children, my hygiene, my intelligence and my race. All I can do is hope. Hope that things change, hope and pray for a time when whites and blacks can live together in peace. I am the woman who is treated different.
~ Mariyam Zana Naseer
