I live for Aha! Moments, and the best thing about a divorce is the instant clarity that comes with all the introspection you force upon yourself! If I’d stayed married, I would’ve never realized who I was, what was wrong with me (not much), or why “bad things happen to good people!”
But luckily, I did get divorced, and soon discovered something crazy about myself: I wasn’t perfect! This rude awakening could only mean one thing: find out whose fault it is that I’m not perfect. Because I know it’s not mine!
As a British born Pakistani Muslim, now living in America, I already have enough questions about my identity and future. And it doesn’t help that Hollywood and Bollywood have spent decades romanticizing the whole, “Singing in the Rain” concept. Thanks to them, I was quite sure my future involved me singing and dancing in the rain, while wearing a
white sari, joined by the love of my life, who would later have to fight some f’ugly looking bad guys to defend my honor. Sadly, I would eventually have to die in child birth after his mother had finally come around to accepting me for who I was: A Pakistani-British-American-Delusional-Muslim! (Not necessarily in that order!)
So it’s the media’s fault as usual!
Cue Real Life: At the ripe old age of 29, I was a newly divorced, single-mother, eagerly awaiting the end of my agonizing twenties. There was never a singing in the rain moment for me, and that’s one of many reasons I’m now completely turned-off of all Indian movies.
In this new chapter of my life, I found myself asking that famed Eliza Doolittle question again: “What’s to become of me?” I’m sure my parent’s and extended family were wondering the same thing. As a Pakistani-Muslim female, I may as well start digging my own grave, because as one uncle so tenderly put it, “Why are you going to leave him now, you have a child. No one’s going to marry you if you have a child. And anyway, men want virgins. And you have a child. Remember!”
So apparently, the moment I got divorced, I was supposed to be thinking about the likelihood of getting remarried. WITH A CHILD, REMEMBER!
OMG! What is wrong with our people? Can’t a girl just end a marriage without being harassed about the prospect of never getting married again? Note my use of the word prospect. What some see as “doomed,” (never getting married again) I see as an “opportunity” to live a free and happy life, never having to worry about getting pregnant again! (Oh no! You’re not even over the V-word yet, and here I go with the P-word)! To my non-Desi readers, any words that can be associated with “marital relations” should be strictly reserved for doctor’s visits. Female doctor’s visits that is!
So back to the nagging question: “What’s to become of me?”
Will a “misogynistic and snobby phonetics professor” take me in and teach me how to be a proper lady; a lady that doesn’t go around using vulgar words such as virgin and pregnant. Oh, wooouldn’t it be love-er-ly? Professor Higgins wouldn’t mind the fact that I HAVE A CHILD! Especially since I’d waited until after I was married to conceive it! (You know what I’m getting at!)
To be honest, I didn’t allow myself very much time to ponder that question. Two months after I’d filed for divorce, I enrolled full-time with the University of Phoenix. Hamzah was only three years old, and I was still committed to being a stay at home mother. (Again, note my use of the word committed, another double meaning!) I resisted the urge to put Hamzah in preschool, and abandoned any dreams of having a social life by pursuing a degree online. Playing with Hamzah by day, and studying by night.
Some people were worried that the heavy load I’d taken upon myself was going to send me into an early grave. (One which I was supposed to be digging anyway)! However, I noticed that the less time I had for wondering “what was to become of me” or whether or not I’d get proposals again, the better off I was. It made me mentally and emotionally stronger too. It was also better for Hamzah to see I was capable of being more than just a domestic diva! Having a busy schedule and a child didn’t allow for a nervous breakdown either.
I also knew that a degree would provide me with something tangible. Something that I could say I’d accomplished, and worked hard for. Also, a degree puts you in a position to say, “I have a degree, I don’t need a man!” Although, I won’t feel completely secure until I can say, “I have a job, I don’t need man!” Because it’s the security of having your own money that makes man an unnecessary appendage! (No, I’m not a feminist man-hater. I just think and write like one sometimes)!
What I have learned over the past five years of obsessing over me, myself & I, is that it doesn’t matter what your pre or post divorce mental state is. What matters is whether or not you can live with yourself after the diagnosis.
My advice to fellow divorcees: Be prepared to be enlightened. Oh, and next time it rains, wear black!
— Rabiya Khan, Guest Columnist for NEEM Magazine
