Khadija frowned the moment she saw Asiya, whom had come to the house without her hijab and with a gold ring through the front of her nose. It had been a few weeks since her piercing, and Asiya was finally able to switch out the ring from the shop to something more decorative. It was elegant and awesome, and she loved it. Her mother, on the other hand, obviously did not. ”You’re lucky your father is not home,” she told her daughter in her native tone of Berber. When it was just her and Asiya, that was the language that Khadija often reverted to - to keep her daughter aware of her maternal roots. ”Come inside.”
”Thanks for letting me in, mom,” Asiya replied in English as she walked through the door.
How long had it been since she had been home? One year? Two? At least two or three, now that she thought back on it. Yet despite her prolonged absence from her family home, it did not look different in the slightest. Everything was still the same: neat and well-organized, as Khadija liked it, and classy and refined like her father, Abdul Nassir, preferred. Even back when he lived in Morocco, Asiya’s father had always had an eye for the finer things in life - furniture, artwork, clothes. All of the things his salary as a doctor would allow for him to purchase. Both her mother and her father found their belongings important and a sign of their accomplishments. Asiya had always just found them stuffy and pretentious.
”Don’t think I’ll make a habit of it, Asiya,” her mother countered, her words stiff and formal. In the past, Khadija had never referred to her daughter by her name. She always called her ’habibi’, an Arabic term for “sweetie”. The formality of her mother’s speech was a reminder of just how far she had fallen from her mother’s eye. She hadn’t been a part of the family for years now, and it didn’t seem as if it would be changing anytime soon. ”The only reason I did was because your father is not here.” Khadija then allowed herself to study her daughter up and down, and once she was through getting a look at her, she just shook her head and sighed.
”What has gotten into you? No hijab? And that thing in your nose? Clearly, your morals have disappeared in the wind. We raised you better than that.”
All the young adult could do was narrow her eyes and scowl at her mother. ”Raised is the key term there, mother. You also disowned me, remember? For a reason as stupid as wanting to be an artist.”
Her mother just shook her head and glared right back. ”It was not stupid, Asiya. An artist is not a good profession for a young woman. You were so smart and had so much potential. You could have been a doctor like your father, but you threw your life away for colors and clay!”
Although her parents both enjoyed and appreciated art, it seemed there would be no room for it to be allowed in their daughter’s life. To them, being an artist was not a respectable profession. They had always wanted more out of her. Better grades, a better career, and better romantic prospects. But that was just it; those were things that they wanted for her. They weren’t what Asiya wanted for herself.
”I didn’t throw anything away, mom. This is my life! This is how I want to live it! I want to make my own decisions. I want to do new things. I don’t want someone else to tell me how to live. Even if it’s you and dad.”
At this point, her voice was now raised, and it was obvious that the visit to her parents’ wasn’t going so well. Her mother, too, was clearly frustrated, as Asiya could see the older woman fighting to blink away tears. ”We had such high hopes for you, and look at what you’ve done. You’ve forgotten your morals and your background. You have turned your back on us. Well, we want nothing to do with you,” came her harsh and cold words. ”You are no daughter of ours, now get out before your father gets home. And don’t think of coming back!”
Khadija wouldn’t even listen to reason. She wouldn’t even consider looking at things from Asiya’s perspective, and that hurt. But there was no use in trying to fight it, either. If this was how her parents felt, then this was how they would be. They wouldn’t change, just like she wouldn’t change for them. It was all Asiya could do not to yell and shake her mother to try and get her to understand, but she held back.
All her emotions, however, bubbled over as she, too, fought back tears. Well, if this is how things were going to be, then so be it. She didn’t need them. All they had ever done was hold her back and stifle her.
She would find her own family - one who loved her for who she was, not how they wanted her to be. Just how, exactly, she had no idea, but she would do it. Of that much, she was certain, at the very least. People that negative in her life were just necrotic, and although she didn’t say it out loud, she was more than happy to cut them out of her life now, too.
Good riddance.
[Word Count: 1,005]
