WHEN I WAS born , people in
our village commiserated with my mother and
nobody congratulated my father . I arrived at
dawn as the last star blinked out.
We Pashtuns see this as an auspicious sign.
My
father didn’t have an y money
for the hospital or for a
midwife so a neighbor helped at m
y birth.
My parent s’ first child was still born
but I popped out kick in g
a d screaming. I was a girl
in a land whererifles are fired in celebration of a son , while daughters are hidden away behind a curtain , their role in
life simply to prepare food and give birth to children .
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