Life, Arranged: Part Three
Continued from Part Two: Better Luck Next Time
I am terrible. Last night I went through my fathers e-mail account. I like to randomly check what my parents are up to because the search is on for not only me, but my siblings and my cousins. I had noticed that my aunts like to send each other pictures and resumes of “potentials” for all of us in the family.
As I was going through my dad’s account I stumbled upon some e-mails with the subject lines with my name that read ‘So and So’s name.’ I toyed with the thought of actually opening these e-mails and in the end I just could not resist.
“Here are the pictures you requested. If you have any problems opening the images, please let me know.”
Hmm….pictures you requested. I can't think of why my father would request pictures, but then again, I've been checking out an online database of profiles for “suitable” men.
All of the profiles beg for a complacent girl willing to stay at home. Take care of the house. Raise a family.
But fuck that. I am working my ass off for my studies and I am going to work--no man will dictate what I do.
I refuse to stay at home. I refuse to cook. I refuse to clean. I do not want to have kids. I want to work. Maybe I’m asking too much? Maybe I’m too western (to which the westerners would say no and easterners would say yes).
And I think that I’d rather stay single then marry someone who won’t let me be me.
This is the third installment of “Life, Arranged,” a series of true stories about a young Muslim student unwittingly in the process of finding a husband. New stories will be posted every other Friday and you can follow us on twitter @jerkmagazine to check for updates.