AND, a girl has no name. No please lets not around the bush. When I am born, I am given my father’s name. My mother will not give me her name because come on how can she? I am my father’s lineage am I not? My mother’s recognition stopped at giving birth to me. Thereafter I am my father’s pride, his dignity, in fact I am my whole family’s standard of decorum and propriety, ISI Hallmark Agmark approved.

As I grow up and survive, I am to uphold the family name through the strictest of lifestyle. I dare not invite trouble because I am my father’s honourable daughter. Through my consistent good behaviour, I am bestowed several honours. I am claimed to be the ideal daughter of my family, my community, my faith, my country and my sisterhood. And then came marriage. Now my husband’s name is my name. Now my husband’s honour is my honour. Now my husband’s family is my family. Now my husband’s home is my home.

I was lavished with these honours without asking for it. But now that I am equipped with such honours, my duty has increased. I have, now, the job of maintaining and upholding the name of my family, my community, my faith and my country. Its the highest deference I can get as a girl, they tell me. Since I am a girl, my career goals and my passions must revolve around upholding the fragile dignity of all these entities, they tell me. Since I am a girl, the stability of this society rests on me, they tell me.

Since I am a girl………

Since I am girl, I was subjected to a man’s hunger. I was violated, penetrated and  torn to shreds since I am girl. I brought this upon myself, they tell me. I must have forgotten my duties and the man punished me rightly, they tell me. I was suitably penalized, stripped and mutilated to remind me of my duties and my place in the world, they tell me. And quite rightly, I have been stripped of my family name, my faith, my nationality and my sisterhood. All because I forgot my place.

Everything was going great; everyone was happy until I started thinking. And talking. A good girl does not talk, they tell me. Let alone argue. That was my biggest offence they tell me. I thought. I talked. I argued. How dare I? How dare I forget my place in this world? How dare I question structure, rules and authority? How dare I challenge? How dare I be bold and brave? How dare I breathe? So I was punished for thinking. Punished for pushing boundaries. Punished for wanting to learn. Punished for being comfortable with my colour. Punished for refusing to be a breeding machine. Punished for upsetting the fine balance of the universe which so precariously rested on my shoulders. Punished for not being the ideal daughter, sister, wife, mother.

Once I had my father’s family and my husband’s family. I had my father’s home and my husband’s home. And now I am without a name and without a home. Without a country, a god and a fraternity because I thought and talked and argued.