#confessionsonsafarnamay: The girl with pimples

For over a decade, I was the girl with pimples. Not 1, not 2, but many. When I used to speak about what I felt about my “cosmetic” problem, people retorted “come on, you talk like you have a disease. Be thankful it’s just acne”. But that ‘just’ is easy jargon when you have clear, glowing skin and not a dented, scarred one.

The problem that started in 10^th grade and considered ‘normal’ by my friends and family made my life not-so-normal.  People would casually remark “yeh tumharay moo pay kya hoa”? with hints of disgust on their faces. I wish I could smile and say “I don’t care” like that girl in the Indian face wash ad. I wish I was clean and clear, but I was the opposite. I responded by using loads of makeup to hide the mess on my face, which worsened my condition. On my sister’s nikkah, when I wanted to look my best, my face was a pool of big red pimples. I remember looking at my reflection in the mirror and crying. I felt so ugly. When people stared at my face, I felt ashamed and tried to hide it behind my hair. Slowly, the beauty standards of the society crushed me and with every effort that I made to face the world, my self esteem was kicked, shoved and broken. No one understood how painful that struggle was for me, or how I became a recluse and an introvert. I couldn’t concentrate on my studies, I lost track of everything I was supposed to be and do.

It took me a while to convince my parents to take me to a dermatologist. I was bent upon getting rid of the ‘curse’ on my face, willing to take strong medication. But, when treatment began, I ended up with partial blindness for a week. That was one hell of a jolt and I realized that I am so obsessed with outward beauty that I am jeopardizing my mental peace as well as my health. From that point, I resorted to ‘limu totkas’ and became my own acne expert. With time, the marks on my skin dwindled. I realized I was much more than just a girl with pimples. When you’re positive and confident, it shows on your face and now I don’t allow those occasional zits impact the beauty that I carry in my heart. I am beautiful, with or without pimples. In this battle with myself, I am a winner.”

Illustration: Wasabi Illustrations. Check out more of their work here.

#Confessionswithsafarnamay: I am the ‘haw haye’ Pakistani girl

Although I feel like I am a regular woman who dreams, aspires and loves, I am the typical Pakistani sample who raises the haws and hayes of aunties in social gatherings.

When I graduated at the age of 22, I was ‘ripe’ for marriage. However, I refused to be the girl who marries just because she’s at a marriageable age according to desi standards. I wanted to have a career instead and to wait to come across the right person. When I was a child and I’d visit my father’s office, I used to love sitting in his chair and pretend being the CEO of a company, answering calls and signing important documents. I wanted to pursue my dream to stand on my own feet and earn myself a living. As I built myself a career, my parents faced a lot of social pressure. “Shaadi kab karo gi? Buddhi ho gai to miyaan nahin milay ga”. I got all of that, but I didn’t cave in.

8 years later, I found the one I wanted to marry. We were in love, but he was 5 years younger than I was. While I had a successful career, he was just beginning. He was comfortable in his own skin and I loved that about him. The aunty brigade, however, wasn’t happy. People around me felt that this marriage cannot work because I am older and happen to earn more. According to the Pakistani mentality, a financially independent woman isn’t capable of making a home.

We have been married for 5 years now and we are happy. We have been through our share of troubles but we want to be together. I travel a lot for work, I still earn more than he does, but that doesn’t come in the way of my respect or my love for him. Every day when I come back, I give all my time to my home and to my husband. I neaten up our space, I fix his cupboard for him, I manage my groceries and I cook the things he likes. I spend time with my in-laws. For the moment, we have decided to not have children. And of course, if you refuse to be a baby machine and choose your career, you’re not the right bahu.

Most of the time I don’t pay heed to what people say. But sometimes it is nice to hear your susraal say that they are proud of your achievements. Instead, my career is something they have to ‘bear’. Sometimes, it hurts when I find them to be apologetic in front of aunties that their daughter in law is a career woman. My husband is proud of me but unfortunately the world is still uncomfortable. I wish Pakistani women weren’t judged for the paths they chose. I wish the society was proud of me and my choices. I wish more men were comfortable with this arrangement. Yet, in the face of angst and disapproval, I march forward to become who I want to be.

By Anonymous. 

This story has been illustrated by Fatima Baig. You can follow her here.