Member-only story
Wives Who Give Birth to Daughters Are Viewed As Failures
I opened my eyes to the sterile, white-walled waiting room. The antiseptic smell of a hospital surrounded me.
I looked over to see my father’s stern face, his brows furrowed in disappointment. My grandmother, dressed in a black chador, sat next to him, her wrinkled face contorted with grief.
As the doctor announced the gender of the newborn, a girl, a wave of mixed emotions hit me. I was happy to have a new baby sister, yet my father’s and grandmother’s blatant disappointment overshadowed any joy I could feel.
They had always placed such emphasis on having a son to carry on the family name and be a source of pride for them. My heart sank as I realized the unfairness of it all.
My new sister was already starting her life at a disadvantage, simply because of her gender. I knew the struggles she would face growing up, and it broke my heart to think of it. I hesitated for a moment, my hand lingering on the doorknob.
With a deep breath, I pushed the door to the patient room open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a small lamp by her bedside. The air was thick with an overwhelming sense of defeat and despair. My mother lay there, her face devoid of emotion.
