Note: This blog follows on from a previous piece (Letter to my future daughter).
To my future son,
My beautiful baby boy. I hope you know how truly special you are. How loved and long-awaited you are.
You’ve not even been conceived yet! But you’re with me.
For since that night I dreamt of you, I’ve hoped and felt that you’ll enter my life.
You were there, in my dreams: a beautiful curly haired little baby boy.
This dream was over a year ago, and I’ve been thinking of it even since. For this dream has changed my perceptions of motherhood forever.
As many people will know, I’ve always wanted to be a mother. But I wasn’t ready until now. Yet that dream still took me by surprise.
That night that I dreamt of you, I was feeding you with my right breast (something I’d never dreamt of before). It was peaceful, so very peaceful.
I saw your beautiful curly hair, your soft skin and I learn about your possible features. And, who I was too.
Surrounded by cheerful singing women in veils, it was different to any other dream I’d had before. With good reason I believe.
From feeding you as a baby, to holding your hand on Eid, there you were dressed in a white kufi and thoub. We received an Eid gift from a group of women and you looked so beautiful.
You were beautiful. The dream was beautiful. And quite possibly life changing.
It revealed our journey together – with no real detail about your father.
I don’t know your father’s name, face, faith, age or ethnicity. I know nothing (only Allah knows).
But what I do believe is that I’ll be your mother and that I’ll still be Muslim. And your path: it’ll be yours to pave, to navigate, to merge.
And so, in the days and months after, I shared this dream with men and women alike. I was met with both positive hopes and and varying interpretations.
Some welcomed the “news” (idea). Others declared that this dream was merely an expression of myself, my faith and my identity and my longing to belong (true and very real wants).
But, I believe it’s more than that. Much more.
You see, before you appeared that night, a very special lady had told me that you’d be my first.
A boy! I was surprised, yet relieved that she believed I’d have a family of my own at last – but when the time was right. For I had to be patient and focus on myself first.
Why was I surprised, yet relieved? Well, this was during a difficult period of my life. A time in which I needed hope.
She spoke. And there you appeared in my future slumber. My sign. My hope, my patience, my blessing.
Dreams… I’ve had many of them.
My mind is full, bursting with dreams. Some repressed trauma, calls from my brain of cries to be heard. Some, garbage from the day being processed in the grand processing centre that is our brains.
And some… have been gifts. Signs from beyond the grave, comforts, hellos and premonitions.
At least I believe so. Allah alim (Allah knows) after all. For I believe they are all with His blessing, His power and an His knowledge.
Dreams. Lots of them. In fact, another particular dream I remember was when I dreamt of Aunty S with a girl.
I told her. And the next time we met, I discovered that not only was she married but pregnant!
Alhamdulillah, after years of waiting to meet her King – it’d happened. Just as I’d told her she would, with patience and never giving up who she was or what she believed in.
She later she gave birth to a beautiful little girl – whom we’re waiting for you to meet, insha’Allah.
You see, there are signs, beautiful peaceful signs everywhere. Just as Allah (SWT) tells us.
And it’s through these signs, that I came to Islam. Through these signs (and others) that I believe my mother is at peace.
And through these signs that I’ve come to believe that I’ll become a mother, insha’Allah. And, that my first child, may very well be a boy.
This is where the surprise comes in.
It’s significant, because having a boy wouldn’t be any less significant as having a girl. It shouldn’t be.
But, it wasn’t always what I’d have preferred, I’m ashamed to say.
As a woman, the strong idealistic woman that I hope you’ll find hope, comfort, strength and openness with, I’d always hoped my first child would be a girl.
Why? Because I’m a woman and I can relate to a girl.
I grew up in quite a gender segregated environment. Yes, I had two brothers but as you’ll later find out, it wasn’t that simple.
Overall, I didn’t have much (significant) interaction with boys or men at all.
I was a mummy’s girl. I went to a girl’s school till I was 12. And, most of my closest friends have been women.
What’s more, and quite significantly, as a lifelong feminist, I wanted to be a role model, support and encouragement for any daughter I’d have, in what is still very much a man’s world.
But that’s not all…
As you’ll come to know, Nanny Emilia isn’t here. We said goodbye when I was much younger (in my early 20s).
Yes, I believe we’ll all see her again, but it’s often been a lonely journey here. And with my little girl, I wanted to share everything that I never got a chance to do with her.
Weddings, shopping, new jobs. Future pregnancies, births and so much more.
I’d missed out on so many shared moments. Milestones that I’d had to live and will continue to have to share without her. At least in person.
That’s why I hoped my first would be a girl. Of course, a happy healthy baby (whatever the gender) is all a parent should want. And I did.
But, I also wanted to dress her up, to share so much, to inspire her, teach her, empower her. I wanted it all.
So, hopefully a girl first, then a boy I thought. God willing. Insha’Allah.
But, we plan, and Allah plans. And Allah is the Best of Planners.
And so, whilst only Allah knows what is in my future – our future – I do believe that it’s quite possible that you’ll be my first. My first encounter with motherhood.
Yes, my first could very well be you: my beautiful little baby boy.
But whether you’re my first, second, third – it doesn’t matter. What matters is cherishing the blessing of every child and the blessing that you are as my son (and any daughter I may have).
It’s early days. And as I write this letter, I’m 36 and the clock is ticking (a pressure that many women feel but that you’ll never experience!).
You’ve not been conceived and I don’t even know who your father will be! But, what I truly hope is that you’ll be a part of my life.
Seeing my older and wiser female friends nurturing such beautiful relationships with their sons, I’ve been inspired.
It’s a blessing – for the person they are (not a gender).
Yes, I’ve learnt that I can relate to you my beautiful boy and that we can share so much together.
As you’ll sadly learn, in patriarchal societies, having a boy (especially first) is a sexist gift to match patriarchal expectations. On the other hand, having a girl is often seen as a “burden” and “disappointment”.
As a feminist, I knew that I’d want to empower any girl I had to be strong, unique and supported each and every step of the way. That they’d be an equal blessing to a boy.
But if I dig deep, I did have a preference.
Yet as a feminist in the truest sense – a real egalitarian (not a misandrist) – here’s what underpins this lesson: you equally must not be defined by your gender.
I don’t want to raise you just to simply “not be sexist”. I don’t want you to be “the antithesis to sexism” and a “working model of feminism in progress”.
No, you don’t deserve that. I don’t want you to be defined by biases, bigotry and gendered expectations. You’re you – not simply “not a girl”.
The burden of our struggle is not one you should inherit. Instead, I’d hope you’d join as an individual who chooses justice for all – out of free will, passion and real conviction.
Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect and to be able to follow their own path. And that’s why I want you to live to be you.
This is vitally important my son. For as time has passed on the journey that is life, I’ve also come to realise just how much sexism affects men too.
It’s pervasive and clear in not just how men treat women, but in how they treat themselves and other men and boys too. In the expectations and how they raise their sons, not just their daughters.
And crucially: how women also raise their sons, as well as daughters.
Misogyny perpetuates misogyny. And narcissism, repressed emotions, trauma and depression follow.
No, it must end, everywhere. You’re a unique beautiful individual and this is your unique path.
Your journey from baby boy to man is yours to carve for yourself. You are the master of this journey and you are free dear son to be who you want to be.
Please, embrace life and all its nuances. It’s ups and downs. Its colours and its greys.
Do not be scared to cry, to talk, to love, to share your emotions. It’s healthy – and powerful. It’s what makes you truly you!
Please, do not be shamed into hating your gender. A real “man” loves himself and loves women, especially when they’re free, empowered and strong.
Strength my dear son, is not defined by the size of one’s muscles, the number of our BMI or our ability to “put on a brave face”.
No, strength – strength of person, strength of character, real resilience and emotional maturity – genuine character – is built on honesty, openness, transparency, respect and love.
It’s built on respecting yourself and others, on admitting when we are wrong, on wanting to learn and grow from others and for standing our ground in the face of injustice – whoever the survivors and perpetrators may be.
My dear son, I am so proud of you. And I love you.
Know who you are (don’t worry it’s a life-long journey of discovery and reflection!).
Embrace who you are – always, honestly and openly.
Treat others the way you wish to be treated (whatever their gender) and stand up against bullying, bigotry and injustice, wherever and whenever you see it.
That is strength my son. This is what makes us human.
As your mother, I will not let you be defined by the patriarchal norms that have plagued women across the generations – including myself.
Yes, I hope you will be a true fierce feminist. And that you’ll love yourself, you’ll love women, men, and each and every human being.
My promise to you is this: there will be no room for toxic masculinity in our house – for the sake of every single person and the future I want to build with your father, yourself and any siblings you may have (boy, girl or non-binary).
Yes, you will be a “real man” – by being you! Not a walking embodiment of toxic rigid gender norms.
As your mother, I promise to you that I will strive with all my love and energy to help you (if you identify as a male – or as whoever and however you chose to live your life), to be a strong, confident individual.
To be kind, loyal, affectionate, communicative and not intimidated by women – or men (or women!) that falsely teach that toxic masculinity is the answer to what being a “real man” is.
I will teach you, guide you and watch you carve your own path.
And I will not let you be burdened with expectations.
You will have my support on the good days, and the bad days. On the confident days, on the “I need a pick-me-up days” and the duvet days.
I will be there. Without judgment and with an empathic listening ear, and life-long advice when you need it.
For I will be your mother, your friend, your teacher, your ally. This is my promise to you.
I will support you. I will encourage you when I believe you’re right, and I will equally call you out without shame when I think you deserve better for yourself and for others.
I will listen to you, I will advise when you need me, and I will also step back when you need me to so you can carve your own path, write your own story and walk your own individual path.
At the forefront, by your side, or at the sidelines, I will be there, whenever and wherever you need me.
I hope that you will grow to not see women and girls through the lens of “mother, daughter, sister” but instead as human beings equal to you.
And I hope that you will feel proud of who you are, free to express your emotions, free to choose your own path and free to be your authentic self, dear son.
Laugh, cry, talk, hug, share – it’s all normal, healthy, human.
You are beautiful. Embrace that beauty with humility, humanity and love for all.
I love you son. Whoever you are, wherever and whenever we shall meet.
Yours always,
Your dear mother
xxxxx
This post was originally published on Voice of Salam.