"I am from Earth." WR's Story

“No one goes anywhere alone, least of all into exile — not even those who arrive physically alone, unaccompanied by family, spouse, children, parents, or siblings. No one leaves his or her world without having been transfixed by its roots, or with a vacuum for a soul. We carry with us the memory of many fabrics, a self soaked in our history, our culture; a memory, sometimes scattered, sometimes sharp and clear, of the streets of our childhood, of our adolescence; the reminiscence of something distant that suddenly stands out before us, in us, a shy gesture, an open hand, a smile lost in a time of misunderstanding, a sentence, a simple sentence possibly now forgotten by the one who had said it.” (Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of Hope)

Her Routes and Roots is a series on journeys of displacement undergone and told by young women, focusing on their resilience and pivotal moments of strength. Stories are drawn from in-depth narrative interviews conducted during Her{connect}Her, a global voice program by Footage Foundation.

(WR is from Saudi Arabia and currently in the U.K. Her story has been edited for length and clarity. Content warning: physical, sexual, and psychological violence).

WR: I feel like I have been building my culture, my own culture.

I only remember… our lives through photos… [My mom] did not play an active role in our lives, because I think she was depressed.

She did not understand me, not until I was getting divorced, and she was the only person who sided with me.

I was in an Indian embassy school. Our classrooms were… 40 students in each class. During the morning hours, it was the girls, and the boys came in at 12 o’clock.

So, I understand Urdu… I can not hold a conversation in Arabic. I can read and write Arabic. Where it is Tamil, I can understand the colloquial… But, I cannot watch the news or watch a TV show to understand Tamil. Whereas, I can understand a Hindi movie.

We were learning English in school… That is how we ended up speaking English at home. Though, my parents used to speak in Tamil… It was a whole different thing when I got married and I went to Sri Lanka, and the language — the barrier was there.

Eventually, I learned cuss words in Tamil. That is because he used to cuss me… So, I learned to cuss him back, and I used to fight back, which was a no-no. You are not supposed to hit your husband, right?

He called his dad. Then, my aunts and uncles were informed… They grilled me, “Where did you learn to hit your husband?

A lot of blame was put toward [my parents] for bringing me up the way I was.

It was not my parents who made me the way I am. It is a combination of everything… I had American teachers. I had South African teachers. I had Indian teachers… lots of Irish teachers, as well… Honestly speaking, it was my teachers who motivated me to study… like girls could be something.

My dad said if I wanted to further my education, I needed to get married… They already had decided on who.

My relatives already knew that I am a rebel, and I talk back, and I give my views, and I do not listen, and I am rude, and I wear skirts, which are slightly above my ankle.

Getting married… the guy asked me, “Are you okay with this?”

I was like, “If you will allow me to study, I am okay with it.”

I just wanted that freedom… In Saudi, I did a silly thing. I had a boyfriend… Then, [my parents] took me off school… That is why I had to say yes.

I had therapy as well.

They asked me if my husband raped me… I [had] not even put that into my head, because in Sri Lanka… your husband can do anything to you.

I got my periods very young, and I was told not to play with my cousin, brothers… I was supposed to stay indoors when I had my period… I needed to be home before the sun set.

From the time I was 10, 11, [I was] always fighting to be who I am.

My mom used to tell me after my divorce, “Get out. Do not be at home. Your dad is going to get you married again.” She understood the fight in me by that time.

After the divorce, I decided that I needed to finish studying.

I carried a lot of shame with me.

My dad would tell people, “She got divorced, because she could not get along with the country and could not get on with the people.”… There was no talk about the abuse.

Therapy helped a lot, because one day, I was walking in the street. I was like, “[My parents] lived according to a society that they thought was right.”

So, I finished my degree in English and in literature.

I had a Montessori diploma… That was the only thing while I was married that I did. He used to tear up my assignments. A six-month course took me a year, because I needed to repeat doing my assignments.

One day, I want to work with women.

* * *

In life sometimes, I have lost my belief… I gave up in bits and pieces, but [God] always brought me back, because of the things I have learned… That divorce was a miracle… A woman seeking to divorce her husband is one of the hardest things to do.

But, this guy had been divorcing me verbally for years. In my Islamic knowledge, I was divorced years ago.

To say, “Get out of the house,” is Islamically considered as you are saying your first talaq (divorce). A man says three divorces.

I have been looking up provisional licenses. I so want to drive… Also, at the moment, I have been unofficially offered a job with the place that I volunteer… It is not an organization. It is more of a movement… welcoming asylum seekers and refugees.

This ‘asylum’ word, you see it on TV. You think about wars, right?… But, all I knew is that they would have organizations for women.

When I got to my friend’s place [in the UK], I told her I need to do something.

One night, I decided to get out of the house with [my son] and went to a police station. I said… “I can not go back home.”

I do not know how I did it.

I got into an auto rickshaw on my own, finding the Islamic court and telling them, “I need a divorce, and I need the divorce date when my dad arrives from Saudi.”

That day, I went and rang up my dad, saying, “When you come in this summer, I am getting divorced. You do not have to worry about it until the summer. I will be fine.”

* * *

All my teenage years, every problem I had, I would look in the mirror and talk to myself.

At the last stages of living in Sri Lanka, I had nobody… but, I did talk to the social worker… Islamically, once you get married, it is your husband first. You do not go to work unless you really, desperately need a job to look after yourself, to bring food into the house… I was not in that situation. But, knowing my story, she was like, “I am starting this school. Come.” She used to call me ‘daughter.’ “You just come and teach in my school. And, let us see what happens.”

She was my strength there… She taught me more about God… In Arabic, it is called ‘zikr.’ It is like remembrance of God. [God] is going to catch you.

I think my mom never had that chance. She would have tea parties, but she never had a friend.

It was good for me, because when I think about it, I am like, “It was me who did it.”

I have been doing so many different things and realizing that people value me now… I am worth something.

* * *

I was refused (asylum) three times.

I hate the fact that I was a burden to the society itself, living on mass accommodation.

That is another part of shame that was there, that I was still being a burden. At the same time… I was also grateful, because I was supported.

I learned [ayurvedic] massage two years ago. I had so many little angels guarding me. I never knew I could touch another person and feel comfortable. I can have a part-time [job] doing that and survive.

I feel like there is this world out there. There is a role out there for me to do.

But, who am I… here, at the community in Britain, which.. is so divided?

The Bengalese have a community. The Pakistanis have a community. Probably, if I look for a Sri Lankan community, there is one.

[It] makes me frustrated that I cannot find [a community]. In Saudi, I could go to a mosque and feel welcomed, no matter where.

Here, it is like, “Look at what she is [wearing].” I can feel them staring.

The more you read about faith… it is not [about] your appearance.

I feel like I am still in my teenage years, fighting.

There was a time in my life, through my school days… when people [would] say, “Where are you from?”

I was like, “I am from Earth.”

We are living in a world where communication, cultures have been blended together, and I do not think I am the only one suffering from an identity crisis.

Watch the digital story WR created while participating in Her{connect}Her here.

To support some of the thousands of women and girls in situations like WR around the world, and Footage's work; raising voices to elevate lives, please visit: www.footageproject.org/invest.