Prompt:
Discuss some issue of personal, local, national, or international concern and its importance to you.
I need a lot of help in shortening this piece. I know it's too long but I don't know how to make it shorter and still keep it's meaning. I'm not even sure if this piece tells any one anything about me. Can any one help me?A Sister's StorySmall Things Mrs. Ahmed is a short, light brown woman with mid-length black hair containing strands of faded brown highlights. The huge black mole on the right side of her small nose distracts many from the pretty face. For a middle-aged woman, she is fairly thin with just a bit of fat bulging from her stomach. She always wears old-style straight cut denim jeans paired with a loose Bengali hand-made cotton top mostly sewn with various flower designs. These colorful tops make evident that no matter how much she tries, she can never fit into the American lifestyle without reminiscing bits from her Bengali traditions.
Mr. Ahmed hates everything about his wife. Unlike his wife, he is an austere, strong man. His hair is full of natural short black curls which all fit together as an afro. His apparel style never changes. No matter where he goes, he always wears a simple white half-sleeve shirt with black dress pants, paired with an old gray blazer. It's quite difficult to interpret Mr. Ahmed's words due to the constant pauses and rapid pace at which he talks, and yet, he never stops chatting. He refuses to speak Bengali at home which makes a lot of people wonder why Mrs. Ahmed's parents arranged her to marry a man with no pride of his heritage. Many even think that "she could have done much better. Much, much better."
There are only two girls in the Ahmed household. Sarah and I are the same age, and Faria is three years younger. Sarah became my best friend at the age of fourteen, even though we knew each other since we were born. We share everything with each other like sisters, although she always feels uneasy when talking about her family. When we were kids, we barely spoke since she was always shy and scared of her dad. The only thing I remember her telling me was the rage her dad threw at her mom one day. Experiencing the scene as a nine year old, she mentioned and cried upon how "dad took out a kitchen knife and threw it at mom. She moved and it missed and she cried and he left the house calling her the B-word."
Verbal conflict is inevitable in every marriage life. Yet, the difference between small family tantrums and long-term constant beatings is of great threat to the future of the United States. In America alone, there are around 1.8 million women that are beat physically and emotionally by their spouse. Many people don't realize the harsh affects domestic violence causes, and a lot of women merely become their husband's prey. The woman is often humiliated, feels worthless, and eventually builds a low self-esteem. Experiments also reveal that this kind of dreadful violence has a harsh affect upon kids that grow up in such a household. Children who experience a parent being abused usually tend to become an abusive spouse themselves.
Starvation My mom leans toward Mrs. Ahmed and comforts her as if she already knew what was wrong.
"He...he didn't...buy any food for the family," she says avoiding eye contact. She quickly covers her face and cries for a couple of minutes. My mom hugs her and asks why she didn't notify her any earlier.
"How am I supposed to tell anyone that my husband is such a bastard? I...I went to my neighbor's house twice last week and ate a meal there. I...I can't go there every day and embarrass myself...and...I can't tell anyone either. I have...no one in America," she says whimpering." Her voice starts to trail off and cracks. "I don't have a job. I don't have money, and I don't have anyone to offer me any shelter. If I tell the police, all they're going to do is make us file a divorce. And then what happens? He gets my kids since he's the one with the job, and what do I get? I get the shame of embarrassing my husband in public and the shame of separating from him. I get the shame of not thinking about what's going to happen to my kids without a mother, and discontent from my parent's in Bangladesh, who sent me here to live my American dream. With all that, I won't be able to go back to the country either. I...I have nothing."
Scarred About a year ago, I went over to Sarah's new house when no one was home. As we settled down upon her bed, we started gossiping immediately. The conversation ranged from backstabbing an "ex-hypocritical friend names Tasmia" to crushes and boys and relationships. We talked about what we wanted in our future husbands and once again, after five years or so, the topic of family problems found its way into the conversation.
"Two days ago, I walked into my parent's hugging each other in their bedroom," I stated making a gross facial expression. "It was so awkward! They're my parents! Eew."
"Ha-ha!" she laughed. "You should be happy that they can stand in the same room with each other. My parents don't even sleep in the same room."
I didn't know how to respond to that. Her face showed no expression of remorse and I couldn't tell whether or not she was affected by her family situation. Noticing my hesitant expression, she shrugged and went, "It's okay though. I'm used to it. I don't care 'cause I'm with my mom most of the time. But anyways, let me tell you something pretty cool!"
"Uhh...what?"
"So like I was cooking the other day, and like, the knife was just there, and I took it and cut my arm. It didn't hurt at all!" She extended her left arm for me to see. I saw the black scar with pale dead skin in the middle. "It's pretty cool, isn't it?"
Courage I constantly think about what Sarah is dealing with every moment of her life. I always wonder how she had the courage to fight through the difficulties of her family life since childhood. As a sister, I know that I have to protect her and make her life outside home as enjoyable as possible. Hence, I've never told people about her undisclosed life at home. Her secret became my secret, which I enclosed within myself for several years...to this day. Today, I feel a little guilty, for sharing her personal life with the world. Being a writer, I'm justified for writing this story to understand a specific situation, but as a teenager, I wonder whether or not I'm being a horrible best friend.
I met up with her a few weeks ago and she stated how she "couldn't be happier than before." I questioned, "Why?" and she joyfully mentioned how she "fought the courage" to make her dad understand.
"So things are basically perfect?"
"Well, they still argue, but he doesn't hit her anymore. They talk to each other a lot more now and if they're mad, they just ignore each other. In a way, I like this better because it's more peaceful around the house. I told my dad that if he touched her one more time, I would be the one to call the cops on him. My dad sort of hates me now but I'm glad that I don't have to see my mom in pain anymore."
I hugged her going "that's good" and we walked down Hillside Avenue to meet up with other friends.
Malicious violence against one's wife is condemned in Islamic religion. Even though the holy Qur'an exclusively affirms that men must treat their women with dignity and respect, cultural influences force women to have their voices unheard. More or less, society is also responsible for this cruel domestic violence. In South Asian countries for example, there is lack of support in society for women who wish to divorce their husbands due to sexual or verbal abuse. In those countries, it's customary to suffer through hard relationships believing that every relationship has problems, and it is the wife's responsibility to overcome such obstacles in consideration for her dear children. Thus, many women with kids prefer to remain married in an abusive relationship than to divorce their spouse. This allows men to realize that they will face a lower chance of separating from their wives and hence are more likely subject to keep battering the poor lady. In America alone, many women face these abusive hardships. In the United States, many people don't see this outrageous violence as significant as other kinds of crimes. By putting down domestic violence in a corner and focusing on other appalling issues merely allows the growth of such ghastly aggression.
Martial relationships are meant for a husband and wife to love and respect each other. Domination and brutality should not be a part of any relationship. Women must stand up for their rights and fight against domestic violence and only then will they be engaged in the path of a more fulfilling marital life.
Tasnima Mohaimin
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