The book was good and an eye opener... for me it brought up some strong feelings of a way of life
in parts of the south that goes on in a similar way , but to a lesser degree ...
I have tried to think of an opening question for discussion but letting personal experiences and observations
get in the way... so will wait for someone to toss out one first
quoting myself and borrowing from Kate's post too
I hope that readers respond to the emotions of this story, that despite vast cultural differences, they identify
with Mariam and Laila and their dreams and ordinary hopes and day-to-day struggle to survive. In my earlier post I said I didn't want to toss out a question because the book up too many strong feelings...
my dad told me at the age of 8 that he had not wanted me and my sister we just happened before he got
his sons ... the only son of an only son of an only son he had it drummed into him that he had to have sons
to carry on the bloodline and name... girls were an inconveniance...
I married at 16 to get away from a home where my mom was cowed down and my dad was king and my
brothers who were at the time 13 , 11 and 9 were princes... out of the frying pan into the fire ...
first year was OK... then came first son ... ex was thrilled ...he had told me that a girl child would not be
tolerated ... abuse started when son was maybe 9 month old... food was not just right... even if there were
5 pair of pants in the closet and one on his rear end and one in the hamper he wanted the one pair that had
not been washed...
I began to wear long sleeve shirts year round to hide bruises and never wore shorts if anyone was around... he
was careful with bruise placement ...I said I was afraid of skin cancer and was protecting my arms from the sun
when asked about my woredrobe... the shirts were my burqua...I stayed home with myself and children as
they came along having little contact with other people for many years... went to the minister who married us and
he told me that I had married for better or worse and had to find what in me made my husband
have to
hurt me ... then the man told my husband I had complained about him and his abuse double ... it was his right and
duty given by God to rule over his house which included training his wife... when the boys got into school things
were a bit better... he was scared that someone would see something or the boys would say something ...
I finally went to the police and then DHS when things hit a biling point and was told that he had to hurt one of
the boys bad enough to cause alarm that they could not help me if it was just me he hurt... but they could have a talk
with him as a courtesy to me ... a WTF moment... I told them forget it ... he was verbally abusive to the boys but
that was not enough and them talking to him would have cause me more trouble... so I lived with it...
I lived like this for 17 years ... a bit before I finally left I stopped wearing long sleeves... I told him hit me all he liked ...
the world would see cause I would not cover up... and when it wormed up I wore shorts and tank tops... not short
shorts and no string strapped tanks ... I was covered enough for public ... and when I gained enough confidence I left...
through all this I had tried to get him to go to counseling and he said he had no problem ... this was life like it or
lump it ... so I lumped it ... my youngest son then 15 told me it was about time ...
I am now stronger than I ever was ... my new husband is almost too considerate of me and my feelings... he is who
my sons now all grown go to for advice or to help work on a car and other guy stuff...
I see this type of behavior going on to this day... and unless you are caught in it you can't understand how hard it is to
get out ... I was conditioned from age 8 on to believe that I was a second class citizen as a female , with the
obligation to serve the men in my life on a near slave like basis and that that was just the way things were... and local
law enforcement rarely steps in until someone is in the hospital or it spills over into the public eye... there is a good old boy
attitude in my area that stinks... those I went to for help shot me down and I just gave up for a while and survived
the best I could and protect my sons and try to keep them from becoming their dad
my dad remarried when my mom finally escaped him... his wife was a stronger female and didn't let him bully her
her daughter the way he did us ... he raise my step sister from age three on (she is now 27) as a person... he tried
to apologize for his ways and I took the apology but I am not sure I embraced it ... found out last week a chest cold
he has not been able to swing is lung cancer and he has been given 3-6 month ... one lung is 85% invaded and
the most they say they can do is keep him comfortable...
I am sad about his illness but sadder that a whole life passed by without him knowing me... the child he rejected
who in many way is the most like him... I look like him , we both do wood work , we read similar books and listen to
the same music ... I like myself and the things I do ... but wonder if I picked up woodworking when I got to the point
I could afford the tools just because he wouldn't let me touch his as a child and adolescence even though my brothers
could ... not a one of them has the least bit of interest in it now ... he is nicer to my two daughters than he was to
me and I am glad and I have no intention of them knowing about the other Papa ... but will make sure they know
they are people first and girls next and no one has the right to deny them rights based on what is between
their legs
dang ... I better stop... and may never read another book again ... told y'all it stirred up too much ... I think it
is time to go to my corner ...
all this said , I did enjoy the book