Being the Villain is Amazing: All Girl Children Should Try It

Mom hummed as she applied various ingredients to the steaming pot. My stomach rumbled in response to the aroma. My father strolled into the kitchen, carrying a toolbox.

He regarded me for a while and said, “You know,” he began, “It doesn’t matter if your grades are good…,” he trailed off, his eyes boring into mine, his way of ensuring I was paying full attention, “Your husband will throw you out if you don’t know how to cook.”

Tears stung my 14-year-old eyes. Why was he saying this to me? What did I do wrong? I thought.

‘Am I clear?’ Dad’s voice boomed, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I nodded. I wanted to storm out of the kitchen but I stood still, fiddling with my fingers. After a few seconds of awkwardness, I said, “Daddy I think the landline is ringing,” and before he could react, I dashed off.

Growing up, situations like these were the norm in my household. I embraced them as my fate and lot in life. However, it didn’t matter how much I shrank, it was a sinkhole situation—nothing I did was enough.

 

An Assistant Child to Support the Real Children

Let me introduce myself, I am a girl child and a woman. To society, I am half, not whole. I am just an assistant child to support the real children, males.

As a ‘half’ child, I was, in the shadows of my brothers, always relegated to the background. My parents told me how much they loved me but their actions said the opposite. This just makes me remember the song, More Than Words. Indeed, saying I love you is not enough.

It’s in the little things.

I remember when we were little, one of my brothers spilt juice on the carpet during dinner. When my mother saw the stain, she yelled at me for not stopping him.

“But were you not there when it happened?” She asked. “Couldn’t you have pointed him in the right direction?” she scolded, ignoring my brother. I tried to explain that I wasn’t even near him when it happened, but she wouldn’t listen.

Another time, my immediate younger brother decided to cook dinner for the family one evening. He made a delicious curry sauce, roasted turkey, and perfumed rice. However, when Mom and Dad came home, the delicious meal turned sour. My mother hurled insults at me. She told me I was lazy and couldn’t even bother to cook a decent meal. I was taken aback, as I had nothing to do with the cooking that day. My brother had taken the initiative to cook, and it was a nice gesture. My mother couldn’t see past her own biases and assumed I was responsible for not cooking. Meanwhile, my father kept telling my brother that he was a man and shouldn’t be bothered with ‘women’s work’ like cooking and that he should leave it to me. My parents couldn’t bring themselves to praise my brother’s cooking.

 

Being the Villain is Amazing: All Girl Children Should Try It

As a ‘half’ child, I have often wondered what it means to be ‘whole’. Is it a state of being that’s granted by society or is it something I can claim for myself?

For so long, I searched for that elusive missing piece, thinking it would make me complete. But the more I searched, the more I realized that the pieces I was trying to fit into were not my own. They were fragments of others’ expectations, shards of glass that cut me with every attempt to fit in.

But then, something shifted. I began to see myself, not through the lens of society, but through my own eyes. I knew I was fearfully and wonderfully made.

I got tired of trying to please my parents. I had been so obedient that I had lost myself. From blaming me for my brothers’ actions to regulating my emotions and controlling how I felt, the response was always, “You are a woman, you cannot act that way”.

I was never going to be enough. I always heard words like, ‘You are ungrateful’ and ‘You are a bad child’. They made me ask myself what was the point of trying to please people who will never accept you?

It was at a family get-together, the moment that radicalized me. Everything was smooth until my mom got into an argument with one of my brothers. I was in no way involved. I just watched as they bickered. After a while, I noticed she wasn’t responding to my small talk or questions.

I abandoned the veggies I was chopping and asked, “Did I do something wrong?” She replied, “If you don’t know your duty to me as a daughter then forget it.” What in the universe did that mean??? I begged for what I knew but she was adamant. After a while, I knelt and said, “I am sorry for his actions”.

She walked out on me. Rage boiled in me; it had never been about my woes or shortcomings. It had always been about me cleaning up after my brothers and being the easier target. I was an object they could pour their frustration on without touching the golden ganders.

I couldn’t take it anymore and I told myself I am a woman, a girl child. An assistant child no more. I am me! And also a villain, at least from the perspective of my parents and society.

Well, I started to challenge the status quo. I became known as the rebellious one and I relished every part of it. No way was I going to let them treat me like trash. I demanded respect and inclusivity and so many times I was tagged ‘a man’ and told ‘Women do not act the way you do.’

I have lost the approval of people I love and respect in the quest to stop being treated like trash and I am okay. I know who I am now, I am constantly at loggerheads with the people I love because I demand to be treated like a full-fledged human. It’s painful and I feel like an injured warrior who still clutches her sword and fights till the end.

Love Thyself

One thing about self-love is knowing when to let go of certain people. I am not saying ‘loathe them’ I am saying ‘love yourself first, you shouldn’t give love at your own expense.’

I never understood the concept of self-love. All I wanted to do was to please my parents and society. ‘If I do this, mom and dad will love me more.’ I didn’t love myself enough to know I was depositing into a sinkhole.

Right now I feel powerful, they are all wary of me and they hate me for standing my ground but with time they will get to respect me for me. If that doesn’t happen, it’s a risk I will gladly take.

As I continue to love and accept myself, I wonder: what other societal norms and expectations will I challenge? How will my rebellion inspire others to embrace their wholeness? While I have only scratched a tiny dot – one thing is clear: I will no longer be held back.