“You are a girl and you need to compromise!”

This sentence is a cultural catchphrase heard by every girl at some stage of her life. And I wonder, why?

Why is a woman’s anatomy tied to compromise, peacekeeping, housekeeping, caretaking, and so-called “feminine things,” when she clearly has more potential as a better individual than your son — the one you’re so haughty about?

’Cause what do you mean that at the ripe age of 10, a girl is stripped of her interests and is considered an asset to represent the family? Not through her success…rather through how much she can bear disrespect, for how long she can quietly suffocate herself without “talking back,” and until when she can stay strong under the pressure of in-laws and her biological family (whom she now visits only as a guest)…

Because what do you mean that you got caught talking to your boyfriend, and then your parents expected a barely adult human to have the same amount of success and wealth as your dad has now? And then, when he obviously didn’t have that, they force you to get married to a “mature man.”

(P.S. No one wonders why he is still unmarried at the ripe vintage of 35. Funny… no?) So, you marry him so that you don’t embarrass your family in front of society anymore. But oh, how dare you bring up your brother’s three relationships! How ungrateful! That’s exactly the reason you are getting married. Your husband will teach you a lesson (aka tame you or groom you) and then we will see how you dare talk back! *What a healthy bet*

Okay, those men might be good. Let’s assume that at least he has some fraction of wealth compared to your dad’s, if not enough decency required for not marrying a barely adult human.

But isn’t it funny that the same people say rich people are spoiled and tell you not to make friends with them; yet, they are marrying their daughter to a “spoiled kid”? Does that make sense to you?

Because, what do you mean that your daughter was still studying at the time of her marriage and she isn’t going to continue her studies just because her husband (the self-assumed mature man) wouldn’t allow? And you are okay with the fact that your daughter is suffocating, and her rights are getting snatched away at the age of dreaming?

Listen, I genuinely find this confusing. What’s the purpose of a woman in my culture if not to bear anger, have kids with a man they barely know, validate the same man they never truly loved, promote patriarchy, and brainwash the younger generation into giving in? We are taught to tolerate the same abuse as the ones before us just to make a marriage “successful”!

A successful marriage means birthing and raising individuals to pass them nothing but trauma and gender roles….and since a daughter is considered a blessing; my culture also passes her the art of “compromise”.

And don’t you dare think it’s the compromise you know. The outside world is already so contaminated that we made our own version. For instance: compromise of education for girls. Let’s also compromise her self-esteem because, why would she need that? It’s not like we are going to let her leave the house.

Oh, so your daughter doesn’t know how to place an order and you are proud of it because she has “feminine interests”? I wonder since when did advancing as society progresses become a lack of femininity?

These are the exact same people who would reject someone’s daughter just because she doesn’t know how to cook fancy meals; but the same people would brag about the fact that their son has never ever washed a single spoon and he doesn’t know the difference between a saucepan and a frying pan. How cute!

Oh, am I being “too much” again? Oh, sorry.

Recently I got my Microsoft Word Specialist certification and my dad left me on “seen.” When I became the coordinator at a startup and told him, he just reminded me of the CSS exams. Because if he has given me the right to stay alive, I must comply and make them proud by dreaming the same dream he had.

*What’s really wrong with it? He loves me, duh!!*

To my 10-year-old dead self: Oh, you are interested in arts? No more art supplies from now! Be grateful that they have given you a dream. It doesn’t matter if you are passionate. Learn to compromise….he’s your dad after all, he wants the best for you. Shush! Never mind, I am naïve anyway… an aunt told me that at some event. So, I must compromise and wear this label with pride. Because if being naïve means seeing through their act…

As much as I hate to admit that I love drama.

_Maham Faisal

We played once —

before the world whispered its weight into our ears,

before every gaze became a verdict,

and freedom grew a beard while mine wore a veil of silence…

We were just kids;

saving puppies behind broken bricks,

warring over nothing and forgiving before we knew how…

Laughter was unmeasured —

Umbrellas snapped in two, never hearts

Then, time happened…

And the street between us hardened into a wall.

They play under the open sky,

their voices rising in a riot of games and goals —

I hear them from the shadows of the curtains…

I hear my own past screaming, while I sit still;

learning to shrink in the name of dignity…

I see them sometimes —

taller, bolder, freer…

They don’t glance my way,

and even if they do —

my tongue stutters…

as if growing up made me a ghost in my own home.

As if I’m not allowed to remember how we once shared the same dust before someone decided my worth was my silence….

I want to know why my freedom was a threat but theirs was a birthright?

Why I learned to tiptoe while they danced through streets we once owned together?

We were kids. Together.

Same playground;

same ticking clock…

But they kept playing —

And I… I was benched for good!

_Maham Faisal

Settle, they said...
as if she didn’t carry the sun in her chest…
as if her dreams could root,
in soil that wasn’t hers...

She wanted legacy...
to plant seeds with her own name on them
to water a future—
she chose, she built, she bled for...

But they offered her bought flowers
plucked from someone else’s garden
She hadn’t seen them grow...
she’d only be there to watch them wilt

They called it love;
they called it enough.
But how do you call it home…
when it never bloomed under your touch?

She is a woman who wanted a garden—
but the world keeps telling her...
this pot is all you’re meant to hold

— Maham Faisal

Most of us aren’t living our own lives; we are living out a template designed centuries ago. It’s when you start seeing the hypocritical infrastructure of "benefitting brainwash" wrapped in the sweet label of customs and traditions that everything changes.

​These systems weren’t built for harmony. They were typically designed to assign gender-based roles so that one person was superior to another; rather than an equal. We were told this system was made to "protect the fragile one," when in reality, it was a tool to force dominance and manipulate. It turned partners into masters and subordinates under the guise of "protection”.

The real revolution begins when you realise that these double standards are not laws of nature — they are man-made. This realisation hands you a heavy choice:
​- The Victim: You continue to play the role assigned to you, passing the same chains down to your children.
​- The Defender: You stand as the firewall, ensuring the next generation doesn’t inherit the brainwash.

So, why do we stay silent? Why is it so hard to speak our minds?
​Perhaps it’s because we’ve become intellectually lazy. It is far easier to follow a pre-written societal template than it is to draft a new one from scratch. Thinking for yourself is exhausting. Challenging a tradition requires you to face the discomfort of being the "outsider."

​Are we genuinely trapped, or have we just accepted the "sweet label" of custom because we are too tired to question the bitter truth underneath???