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My dearest daughter,
As I looked across at you sitting on the sofa
watching The X Factor, I noticed that
you are no longer a child, and that having just celebrated your 14th birthday,
you are now a young woman starting a journey into becoming an adult woman. As I
looked at you, I remembered myself at 14, and the vastly different places we
are beginning this journey from.
Your identity as a mixed-race young woman,
with an English father and a Pakistani mother, has already influenced how you
place yourself in this world. As yet, you are unaware of the personal struggles
that I took at the age of 25 to marry. How it felt when my mother refused to
come to my wedding. The sharp criticisms of the Asian community that such
marriages do not work out and always end in divorce (离婚). The confidence I had to grow, as we chose to live in a
multicultural community, as I refused to be shamed into living in the white
suburbs (郊区).
Then, at the age of 30, I became your mum with
all the joys and struggles this brought, as I refused the Asian traditions for
a new baby's arrival. From your birth, your life could not have been more
different from mine. I was brought up on a council estate (地方政府建的住宅群), within a close extended Muslim family, through which poverty,
racism and neglect were mixed. I was never given the freedoms or the
opportunity to experience new things. Now, as I hear you play your piano, I am
grateful that you have these chances.
So many doors were closed to me as a young
person, and as I fought for small steps of freedom, I soon learned that it was
better to do what I wanted without the knowledge of my parents, and so lies and
tricks became part of my life too. The pressures to obey, to be a "good
Muslim" girl and keep the family honor, were choking. Behind closed doors
at home, the neglect and abuse (虐待) took place. It was
hidden, I felt the shame, lived with the fear and suffered together with my
sister and two younger brothers. Oh, the power we thought our parents had over
us! I was convinced that one day my father would indeed beat us so hard that
leaving us for dead, he would, as his threats said he would, bury us in the
large back garden, and tell the school he had taken us back to Pakistan for
good. My sister and I longed for a different blue sky to live under.
As a daughter of immigrant (移民) parents, I carried their hopes of a better education for their
children—my own veins (血管) pulsing with the
hard-work ethic (道德) and need to be grateful
for the opportunity of a free education. And it was education that provided me
with the strength to find my own blue sky. I fought to leave home to go to
university at the age of 18, and never returned to live with my parents again.
Now as you explore your mixed-race heritage,
which I hope we have supported you to do with visits to Pakistan and ensuring
you go to multi-cultural schools, I want you to take the very best of all that
is Asian with you as you become a woman.
The struggles of identity (身份) and belonging will come but I hope that we have given you a
strong foundation from which to explore these struggles. All the chances and
freedoms that I only dreamed of as a young woman, I have offered you. I have
chosen a different path of loving you as my daughter, with an unconditional
love that many consider "western".
I want you to know that although your journey
has been vastly different, I am excited as I watch you standing on the
threshold (门槛) of becoming a woman for
all the adventures and possibilities the future holds for you.
May you fly your blue sky with grace,
confidence and hope as you find your place in this beautiful and crazy world.
Loving you now and always. Mommy