Picture this: It’s Eid brunch at my place for family and some close friends. I’m in the kitchen along with a helper, my friend, and some female family members getting the brunch ready to be served on the table for everyone. Typical to festive gatherings, I’m running slightly late; however, we manage to serve the meal and everyone has a good time.
In the evening, we all head to the Bowling Center to continue the fun. My husband is driving his car with a few family members, while I’m in my car with the girls who want to hang out with me.
A young, new family member remarked:
“Listen, I have an observation: Since you were in the kitchen, you didn’t notice, but, the men had organically drifted towards the table, and sat in ‘their’ seats, while the women awkwardly made their way in between, grabbing a plate each for themselves - including the little girls.”
I’m glad she noticed and, I’m even more glad that she asked.
In her early 20s, my niece is at the back of the car listening intently (I hope that was the case and not that she had earphones plugged in!), and my 11yo is lying down in her lap, probably sleeping (I hope her subconscious absorbed some of our discussion).
I explain our cultural dynamics to the new female member. Although we don’t observe segregation, it’s normally a given that men will be seated at the table, while women take their plate of food and find seating elsewhere in the room. This is what I’ve observed extensively within my family and among our circle of friends.
We talk about how things could be different without passing judgment.
Generally speaking, in South Asian homes, tradition decides who brings what value to the table - while men fund the meals, women prepare and serve them. Money over service has always dictated who gets to sit at the table. However, many of our women are now funding the meals, as well as preparing and serving them. Where does that place us? And, should funding alone be the deciding factor?
Are the men in my family and friends unkind? Not at all. Perhaps a little self-entitled thanks to generational conditioning, but certainly not unkind.
However, more than the men, it’s the compliance of the women that baffles me. How long before we learn that it’s high time we grab a seat at the table (literally!) because no one’s coming to offer it to us?
What are we shy about? Taking up space?
Taking up space reminds me of a recent episode involving a dear writer friend of mine. A river of shame washed over her as she read out a heartfelt excerpt from her work at an online writing workshop with about 30 participants.
I knew the feeling. Every time I broke down in tears during the
workshops, I felt drowned in embarrassment. But that’s what owning up to your personal story in a public space does to you.Women have, for generations, shrunk themselves to near invisibility to accommodate others in their lives.
Have you noticed the number of times we apologize? I once apologized to a man in a parking lot simply because I had taken the last available spot in the area! Why? What was I sorry for? Existing?
Here are five ways in which I have begun to take up space in my life:
Crying & Laughing
Yes, crying is taking space. So is laughing! I cry loud ugly tears and, flinging my head back, I laugh unsuppressed, unwomanly, hearty laughs with my eyes closed, nose crinkled and mouth wide open. My kids used to comment when I laughed hysterically, saying, “Mamma! you scared me!”
It used to embarrass me earlier but not anymore. Now, I enjoy my high-pitched belly laughs and find therapeutic release in them too!
Playing With My Voice
Speaking up, singing, and reading out loud are brilliant tools to assert yourself!Have you noticed how embarrassing it is to hear your own voice - in a voice note, in a meeting room or, in a family gathering? What if someone challenges your shared thoughts? It’s easier to be quiet, no? So much more convenient!
Recently, my yoga instructor shared with me that she thought I didn’t chant ‘Om’ in her classes because of religious reasons. As a child, I loved singing. Until my Uni days, I sang my heart out in public places without shame. I never did it on purpose to draw attention, but, music was such an integral part of my being that I did it without thinking. And then I became a mother.
My pregnancies and the ensuing hormonal changes made my voice hoarse. Family and friends mocked me because they couldn’t recognize my voice anymore. Sensitive beings like me can’t take a ‘joke’, so I internalized the mockery until I couldn’t even chant in my yoga class - in front of just two other people.
But now, I have started playing around with my voice again.
For every “a Muslim man can take in four wives” ‘joke’ by fellow Muslim men in family and friends, I’ve begun saying: “Yes, but did you know, Muslim women can divorce and marry multiple times too! Not at the same time of course, but still, it’s good to know we’ve got options!”
Not filling the awkward silence afterward with girly giggles, is using my voice to take up space too.
Additionally, I’ve begun chanting in yoga. It’s a feeble, shaky 7-second-long chant, that starts on a Lata Mangeshkar note and ends on a croak. But, chant I do! Oh, and I also read poems in Urdu and English. Watch me read works by Fehmida Riaz, Yousuf Bashar Qureshi, Arundhati Roy, and Frida Kahlo!Drawing
I used to love drawing in school, but I can’t remember when I last picked up a pencil. And then
came along with her creative exercises at the Ochre Sky workshops. I wondered why I was so nervous about drawing!Scared of taking up space even on a piece of paper, I drew tiny, minuscule figures. In nearly two years of writing with OSC now, I am proud to say my drawings are expanding courageously across blank canvases! I’ve begun leaving handwritten notes for my kids and doodling birthday wishes to my loved ones.
Apart from Raju Tai, artist vagabonds like Roshni , Nishi and
have inspired me to purchase a little book with blank pages and try my hand at childlike, fearless drawing.I still struggle with drawing limbs; my mango-shaped face appears U-shape, my cats resemble cows, but, my faces have become bigger, better and, I’m boldly including other elements. My friend proudly framed the hand-drawn birthday message I made for her, and it now gleefully sits on one of her walls. Meanwhile, my daughter displayed the handwritten message I wrote for her on her study desk. For real!
From forced, near-invisible insignificants to painting on a huge canvas - how far I've come in 2 years! Choosing Flowers Myself
I’ve actually become a pro at this! My local florists are forever amused by how I never settle for pre-made bouquets and instead enjoy experimenting with new combinations. My floral adventures have turned into a creative exercise that delights both me and my neighborhood florists. It takes some time, but, that’s the thing - taking time is also us taking up space!
P.S. - The flowers I choose for myself, my family, and my friends consistently receive rave reviews :)
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Getting Published
This one was tricky. It took me a while to understand what is it about this hunger of mine to get published. I don’t see myself as an author. I certainly don’t envision myself writing a book. Then what is it about wanting my personal essays out in the world?
I’ve now figured out that getting published is my way of lifting the veil of shame in my family - one raw, honest, Ugly essay at a time. Getting published is me validating my existence, validating my story, my family’s story.
Some other ways of taking up space can be: clicking selfies, posting those selfies, owning a compliment, purchasing bigger-sized clothes that let you breathe freely, hitting the gym and yoga classes in the said bigger-sized clothes, switching off your wifi and/or phone, baking a burnt cake, taking a nap, oiling your hair, slowing down, wearing a dress knowing it’ll expose your unwaxed legs, writing an essay that gets 2 likes, not laughing at sexist jokes, apologizing to your kids, asking your husband for hugs of assurance, discussing boundaries with your mother, talking unapologetically about grief, desire, and money, and so on.
What about you? How are you reclaiming your space? Drop in the comments section and let me know if your methods are similar to mine. I’d love to feel validated! And, even better if they’re different from what I’ve listed here. I’m sure many of us could find inspiration from you!
Soaring too high for words right now after reading this essay. AAA Sanobar I'm grateful to share this Ochre Sky Universe (and the world) with you.
thank you. for being you. for writing what you do. ♥️♥️♥️ you make me want to be a better person.