The women in my family are like stones at the bottom of the ocean.
They are smooth and beautiful.
Even under the pressure of the entire sea on top of them.
Women who have buried children and still danced at weddings.
Women whose fast hands make magic and cure sadness.
As if every goddess was sent to Wardak.
Every daughter born comes into this world screaming.
Not from pain or misery but to let those around her know another empress is here to rule.
Pakhtana women have voices that boom.
And laughs that echo through rooms.
These are the queens of my lineage.
The ones who gave me legs like tree stumps and hands made of iron.
The ones who put out fires when they burn.
The ones who love us to the point of madness.
photo of my refugee mother and sister, Afifa & Awesta Wardak, 1980’s, Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa
In the middle of the night I will wake you up
Gently shake your shoulder and tell you it is time to go
There is a safer place than here. Shh. Don’t fuss or worry. Quietly tip toe out of bed and wear your best clothes my love
This place is the best place to be. You are a lucky one when you arrive here.
I will give you one last kiss and hug you so tight. I am nervous and heartbroken that you will be sent off without me. But I know you will be safe.
My little jigari with your small feet and toes. Your soft cheeks.
Go forth to the arms of God my precious baby. Don’t worry that you are going alone. I will be with you soon.
-when the babies die
You have your flaws
We sat in rooms
My heart would break
My mouth would not move but
I’d hold my breath
All we talk about is
My mother and how she is a tyrant
This is how we bond
One thing that makes us both laugh
This culture doesn’t cultivate
A strong connection between
Father and daughter
Now I know
To look for your signals of love
They are in between noodles in soup
They are when you tell me to stop texting and driving
They are when you pat me on the back because
We are too afraid to hug
We both have endless love letters for one another but
I know and you know it too that
If we open our hearts, it would be too much
All the unsaid words
My baba, I will not twist your spine
In silence or in screams
I will love you endlessly.
Let’s talk about unsolicited dick pics.
Are you so obsessed with the peen that u see literally every fucking day of your life that u have to share it with a random girl that you actually really don’t know? Like it’s such a glorious new discovery that you literally need to curate it in a museum of direct messages. We’ll let me give you a heads up, no pun intended:
YOUR DICK LOOKS LIKE EVERY OTHER DICK. LIKE ANY DICK I CAN GOOGLE. LIKE ANY DICK YOUR MOTHER CAN THINK OF. THINK OF YOUR MOM OR YOUR SISTER THE NEXT TIME U SEND OUT AN UNSOLICITED DICK PIC.
It’s really sad to think that men are such simple idiotic creatures who have such fragile egos that they need to send a fuckin image of their male parts to validate themselves. Now that’s what you call BITCH MADE.