Objectively examining one’s life and experiences is not easy. And if those experiences have been traumatic, their retelling on any public forum is an act of bravery. Pakistani-Canadian inspirational speaker and social entrepreneur Samra Zafar’s memoir will leave readers simultaneously horrified and inspired. But as they read Ms Zafar’s harrowing account of over a decade of domestic trauma and abuse, it is her resolve that shines through. Further, her experiences as a victim are universal, transcending barriers of race and culture. Consequently, as she describes with brutal honesty, her own state of mind during this period of her life, the reader understands a little the psyche of abuse survivor. The importance of this memoir, therefore, lies as much in the story of how Ms Zafar turned her life around, as it does in enabling readers to empathise better with abuse survivors in general.
Ms Zafar grew up in a relatively modern environment in Abu Dhabi. A bright student, she dreamed of going to a good university and forging her own career. All this changed when her family was forced to move back to Pakistan in relative penury. When a marriage proposal for a 16-year-old Ms Zafar came up and the prospective groom’s family promised that they would allow her to pursue her studies, her parents wavered. They let the prospective bridegroom’s family inspect Ms Zafar as though she was a broodmare. She let it happen too, believing that perhaps marriage with a much older man who lived in Canada could be her best chance at a good degree. At 17, she was married and took the flight to Toronto armed with chocolate bars and Nancy Drew mysteries. In many ways, Ms Zafar’s experiences echo what child brides the world over endure. Once married, she was in the “good wife” prison, constantly restricted by expectations of how dutiful wives were supposed to behave. She became pregnant almost at once and a mother at 18.
The abuse began in earnest after her in-laws moved in. Stripped of her privacy and independence, the confident, happy girl morphed into a nervous woman who was scared to navigate her world.
In a sense, Ms Zafar’s life actually began about a decade and two children later, when she somehow found the will to transform her life. She enrolled in the University of Toronto, set up a childcare facility at home and gradually started wresting control of her life. When things became too difficult, she risked cultural isolation by divorcing her husband. All alone, Ms Zafar was reflecting on what her abuse — and her abusive husband — had taught her. While empowering girls, especially those from very traditional, patriarchal societies, enabling them to be financially independent was crucial. Education was another key factor in women’s empowerment. Her life transformed when she graduated from university at the top of her class and with over a dozen awards and scholarships.
A Good Wife: Escaping the Life I Never Chose
Author: Samra Zafar and Meg Masters
Publisher: HarperCollins
Pages: 377
Price: Rs 399
There are several takeaways from this book. First, survivors of abuse need much more community support than one would imagine. Ms Zafar writes that she wouldn’t have been able to achieve anything if it weren’t for her incredible supportive network of friends. From helping look after her children when required, to offering continuous emotional support, they did it all. Second, domestic abuse survivors need to be supported with job opportunities, residential help and more. This, as it did in Ms Zafar’s case, is also a much-needed boost in self-esteem. Third, many domestic abuse survivors remain ambivalent about their spouses; in their darkest hours, the moments of tenderness they shared during marriage sometimes overshadowed the abuse. She writes: “Abuse is never black and white. There are moments of tenderness. There are moments of love and moments of care. Every time there’s an abusive episode, the next cycle is the honeymoon period. Suddenly everything seems like it’s perfect. He’s so loving, he’s so kind to me. He’s taking care of me. Things are going to change. That’s why victims hang on to that hope and stay far longer than they need to or they should.” Last and most crucial, Ms Zafar’s journey illustrates how important it is for survivors to feel they’re being useful to their community. Any type of service, big or small, helps negate the feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy they have developed.
Although many such stories don’t, Ms Zafar’s saga has had a happy ending. She has become a public speaker who advocates for people facing exclusion, abuse, and gender-based violence. Through it all, Ms Zafar writes that she was guided by a powerful motive: If she wanted her two daughters to have a different life from hers, she had to show them the way. The author’s resolve and ingenuity are inspiring not only in themselves but also in their universality. Women across the globe, not just in Pakistan, will identify with much of what she has written.
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