I know a lady.
I know a lady who is one in a million. A very pretty lady. So sweet, oh-so-kind, and she owns the most beautiful heart. She is one of those women who I cherish closely to my heart, but haven’t yet had a chance to see her as often as I wish, or have conversations with her as much as I want to (I am entirely to blame for this. But this is not what I am here to tell you). I admire her in the big family gatherings, watching her from far thinking to myself “you’re so amazing!”
My heart feels sore knowing this angel is shedding crystal-like tears of pure sadness. Not the tears that leave our eyes just because we are down, but tears that reflect sincere heartache.
I don’t know what is her education background. I know she isn’t a working women. By working, I mean outside the house. Because at home she works. She works A LOT!! From cooking to cleaning, to welcoming guests and serving them selflessly, then washing all the dishes by hand, and basically running an entire house with guests every second of her life. All without complains. In fact she does this as if she is a butterfly, fluttering from doing one thing to another, so beautifully, so calmly…with her humble presence, pure kindness, sweet words she is loved by all. Yet indirectly made to feel worthless.
This woman is so kind that after a decade of not being blessed with a child her partner decides to ask her permission to marry a second wife… for the only purpose of being blessed with a child. She accepts.
As I write this he has traveled to a different city to undertake the marriage ceremony with another woman. While the first wife sleeps in an empty and lonely bed in a room of a house she shares with her in-laws. Soon her husband’s bride will enter the house. A husband she loves so dearly.
The husband is too lovely for me to blame. So, dear loyal reader, forgive me, as I will blame my—and your—society for this, alongside the many other social illnesses we have, this tops my list. It shatters the woman, the pain is equivalent to dicing her alive saying you can’t do what you were born to do!
At times like this I abhor my society.
At times like this anger, frustration and despondency flows to each and every nerve in my body, reaching every cell.
Endless social pressures probably started after their second year of marriage, “Get married. You need to be a father. Get married, come on. You need your name to be passed on to a son.”
If the man feels he needs a child, the feeling is even greater for a woman who wants to carry in her womb her child. Now that same woman is forced to share the love of her life… with another woman!!
She gave her approval for a second wife, but as soon as he stepped out the house her tears flowed like a river….
Love to My Nest in Kurdistan