I know it’s not your birthday; no, it’s not any of the other big days. It’s an ordinary Wednesday, in which I gather enough courage to speak to you, in writing.

Yes, you are 8 years old now my Shameem and you are a good reader, so you can read this piece. My only worry is if you would be able to understand what I’m telling you now. But that’s the beauty of writing, you will go back to it when you are fully ready to immerse yourself in my pain and exercise your own right to be angry.

You see, my darling daughter, I am not perfect, but I should admit, I tried to be one, for that I gave license to so many people to box me, to dictate what I should do and what I should not do and be based on their standards of perfection. Because I was so desperate to fit in, I bowed and I bent. Years later, I realized I didn’t turn to be perfect, I ended up being a coward;

– who negotiate with the oppressor, because even though she has rights, she can’t just exercise them, she has to politely rub the back and massage the ego of her oppressor to be ‘allowed to be’

– who is afraid to speak her truth, because her truth is so raw to fit the conventional narrative

– who carriers the heavy pain in her soul because she has been told, you are strong woman and strong women ‘don’t cry’ for young women are looking up to you

– who got labeled professional, and in her professional world, you engage with facts, not emotions

My daughter, I am still convinced that I chose what to do, but I am sure I didn’t choose what to be, it was prescribed to me. Someone asked me, how do I manage my career and my family, and I asked, which family? They only wished to hear a fairytale of glory and greatness, but as for the story of our pain and failure, they don’t want it, and I have been so good in hiding it, because I am a coward, remember?

My darling, do you know why I get up every morning to go and do the same thing I have been doing every day? Because I am holding on the belief that I will one day smash patriarchy and neoliberal oppression, and that day, you and other girls will be free from all forms of violence and abuse, you will finally have the choice to be who you really want to be, unapologetically.

With everything that has happened, I have realized I have a duty to protect you, as a person, as my child, and as an African girl who is growing up at a time when patriarchy has been crueler than ever, when oppression is glorified and feminist anger is brutalized.

Shameem, my fight with patriarchal oppression has always been personal, not only because the personal is political, but also because I have seen, I have witnessed, and I am a victim of that oppression. I have lived it, in my own house, in my own boundaries, in my work space, in public space, in protected spaces, literally everywhere. And you my darling, you have experienced the worse and I can grant you, the world is not going to be any kinder to you.

Realizing how abysmal of a coward I am, I have been trying hard to be brave (for once) and live my life on my own terms,

I wish I could spit on the face of patriarchy,

I wish I could jail those who abuse those they should protect,

I wish I could scream on top of my voice unapologetically when I smell oppression and exploitation,

I wish I could name and shame bystanders and fence-sitters publicly,

I wish I could express my feminist anger in its rawness without fear,

In short, I have so many wishes, but my darling I am realizing that my chains are so tight, and patriarchy in both female and male bodies are up in arms against me. My Shameem, this is not a retreat note, nope, I have been a coward for so long, its kinda tired now, this is to tell you, ahead of time, that, your mom is paying the heavy price, for you to have the right to be. With tears, pain and blood, you have earned the right to be angry, to be emotional, and to be you.

Grow up knowing you can walk up tall and say on their face, I don’t give a damn! Mama Mishy paid for it.