Yasmin Sulaman is a survivor of domestic abuse. She is a Senior Leader in Regeneration & Economic Development.
"I look back and think to myself, what on earth went RIGHT?
My life could have turned out so very different, and I am so incredibly grateful to still be here, happy, healthy and living my best life. I love my late parents, and they did their best in raising my siblings and me.
My experiences have not only helped me understand what I don’t want in my life but have made me the strong, resilient, positive, loving person that I am.
Growing up, I had to do as I was told by my family (mummy and more so, my brothers), otherwise, I was reprimanded and punished (verbally and physically).
To keep the peace, I sacrificed my own happiness and made pleasing others my priority and goal. All I ever wanted was validation – to be accepted, loved and for my parents to be proud of me.
I always tried to bring humour into every dark moment - and trust me there were many. I used to say to myself, it’s going to be ok, and it can’t get any worse than this, but it always did.
My late Amee and Abu Jee (this is how I addressed my mummy and daddy in Urdu) were born in India and moved to Pakistan after partition before they settled in the UK during the late 60’s.
They experienced much trauma when they were growing up, especially during partition. They saw a great deal of bloodshed including the murder of many close and extended family members. They both also overcame many personal challenges from their first marriages before their arranged marriage to each other.
Amee Jee was tall, very fair, and to me incredibly beautiful. She was a strong, very proud, stubborn, and time obsessed independent lady who always wore beautiful sarees, bright red lipstick and nail polish before her senior years.
Whilst growing up in Pakistan, she was known for her feistiness and for being a tomboy. She came from farming stock and was greatly confident around horses and camels. Snakes didn’t bother her either and she would occasionally fight them when faced with no other option.
She used to walk for miles with food, just so she could have lunch with her daddy, and younger brother. Her mummy was much of the same - strong, independent, rebelled against the norm by dressing her way (long skirts instead of traditional costumes) and smoked a hubba bubba.
Amee Jee always had a smile on her face when out and about or when we had visitors. Behind closed doors, she cried almost every day and struggled with depression.
She had an incredibly sad backstory. Within a short space of time after moving to the UK, she lost her daddy, and then her brother in an accident and wasn’t able to get back to Pakistan for the funerals, so didn’t really get the closure she needed. Years later she lost her mummy and again as funerals take place on the same day as passing, Amee Jee didn’t get to say goodbye. She had a daughter from her first marriage that was taken from her by her ex-husband. This kind of thing happened in those day. She didn’t see her baby for 20 years.
My darling Abu Jee was an immensely proud, exceedingly kind, and a thoughtful gent from a very humble background. I can only remember one occasion when he raised his voice and that was only because he was in extreme pain with gallstones.
In my eyes, Abu Jee was very handsome with the most beautiful soft dark skin and big white smile. Built like an athlete, he had the slenderest toned arms and legs with a broad neck. His hands were amazing with the longest fingers – he could have easily been a hand model.
He was known as blackie by the local non-Asian community. He didn’t mind, words didn’t really bother him. He used to laugh it off and say they are just envious of my tan in his sweet Asian accent.
Amee Jee had a habit of reminding him that he was of lower cast compared to her and if she had known that and realised just how dark his skin was, she would not have agreed to marry him. Cruel words.
Abu Jee never forgot where he came from. He could have bought his clothes new, but he always chose to buy from charity shops, one, to give back and secondly, he enjoyed the experience of seeking and always found little treasures. He always looked very stylish with his charity tweed jacket, waist coat, flap cap/colourful beanies. He wore sandals with his suits which weirdly worked.
Abu Jee did not say much, instead he observed and listened. When he did speak, others took note and eagerly listened as he was always full of good advice, logic, and reason. I really admired his non-judgmental attitude and how he treated everybody with respect and love regardless of their behaviour towards him. Rarely did he react to situations. I clearly remember how he used to take a lot of loud slow deep breathes to help let things pass over him. Sadly, he lost his mummy when he was young and didn’t really say much about his daddy and siblings.
From his first marriage, Abu Jee had two sons. This marriage ended after his wife and his brother had an affair. When Abu Jee married Amee Jee and moved to the UK, his sons threatened to kill him if he ever returned to Pakistan. He never went back.
Abu Jee was my hero, and I follow his advice to this day – always be kind, get a good haircut, wear good quality shoes and invest in a good bed.
My parents were all about giving back. To adhere to religious/cultural requirements, each year, they donated a percentage of their small earnings and whatever they owned in Asian gold (based on weight) to chosen charities.
Donations were given to support infrastructure projects back in the villages they grew up in. These included build projects - schools for orphaned children and places of worship. They also supported the installation of water taps. The rest of their savings were put towards future wedding costs for my siblings and me. This included the dowry payments for my sister and I for when we had our arranged marriages.
So, a little about me and my siblings. I am the youngest. I have one sister (eldest) and two brothers. We were all born in UK (Northeast), and we lived in a super cool multicultural street with lots of kids. We had a cat called Tommy whom I adored, and he was my best friend.
I was unplanned. Parents secretly hoped for a son and chose Yasin as a name, hence why I’m called Yasmin. Amee Jee liked to remind me, on many occasions, that the doctors advised her not to go ahead with the pregnancy as there was a substantial risk to both of us. She told me during every disagreement that she wished she had listened to them.
I was convinced I was adopted as there were no photos of me as a baby in the family album and I didn’t look like anyone else in the family. Brothers teased me for years saying I wasn’t their sister, just to help feed my insecurity.
I went from being a pretty cute 7-year-old to pretty much a minger in a very short space of time. By the age of 10/11, I was the laughing stock at home, school and in the community.
My siblings weren’t particularly close to me with me being much younger. My sister who was (and still is) unbelievably beautiful, intelligent, and stylish kept herself to herself and had a great circle of cool and very goodlooking friends.
My brothers, both very handsome and smart, were remarkably close to each other and didn’t really have time for my sister and I other than when they ridiculed us for ironing a crease in their jeans. I did this on purpose as I couldn’t understand why we had to serve them like gods. Apparently in Amee Jee’s version of Islam, women existed to serve men.
Over the years, my brothers said some very cruel things to me, things have stuck in mind to this day – that I was not intelligent, I wasn’t pretty, they didn’t care if I lived or died, if I happen to die, one of my brothers saidhe would not attend my funeral. Who would want to date me, never mind marry me. I couldn’t understand why they would say such mean things, but I always forgave them.
I was a late developer which was very embarrassing, especially in the school changing rooms. I was still wearing a vest at the age of 15/16 and didn’t get my period until I was around 17. My siblings enjoyed picking faults with my crazy curly hair, roman nose, big buck teeth, sticky out ears and shape - lack of. This affected me for years where I barely looked at myself in the mirror. At times. even now, I still hide under a beanie hat, big sunglasses and find it hard to look straight into a camera lens.
Amee Jee’s friends (we called them all auntie jee) used to openly mock me. To them, I looked like a stick insect and apparently, I had mosquito bites as breasts. I still have and fit into my first school sports bra and fully accept now, that size really does not matter at all. Anyway, back to my not so lovely auntie’s - jokingly, they used to ask me if I was a boy or a girl? as I served them very hot Asian tea – trust me I was very tempted to throw it in their lap but instead I took a leaf out of my Abu Jee’s book and simply smiled, whilst they all laughed hysterically – witches!
In my early teens, music and digestive biscuits were my only vice that helped me escape. I was not allowed to listen to English music, but I did, every chance I got. The times I couldn’t, I had the best music playing in my head.
Freestyle dancing around the house and talking to my cat Tommy, helped transform my worries, stress, frustration and limitations with hope. The hope of freedom, happiness, lightness, and positivity.
Cutting my hair and wearing make-up like my friends was forbidden by my family. As for clothes, I was not allowed to follow any fashion. I remember my eldest brother saying to mum that over his dead body was I going to wear legwarmers.
Most of my outfits hung off my thin body and were as boring as you can imagine. What I lacked in looks and style, I made up with my personality. Yes, I was fun to be with and around. I made others laugh and more importantly I made myself laugh and always had a big goofy smile on my face – it made me feel better even though inside I was secretly dying.
At weekends and after school, I had to dress in traditional Asian clothes. I hated it. I was forced to cover my head, guess there was nothing to see other than scraped back jet-black hair with a parting and a big, long fat plait. Honestly, its trendy now but it was not a good look back then.
I absolutely loved school – it was escapism. In middle school, I was accepted by the tough girls as I made them laugh and in turn, they protected me from bullies. In high school, I was bullied quite badly, girls would always pick fights which were always after school. Why they couldn’t do this at break or lunchtime. After school was tricky, I didn’t mind being jumped on, but I knew I only had 15 minutes to get home from the school bell ringing otherwise I was reprimanded and hit by Amee Jee who was totally time obsessed. At times, I used to run and fight, as I knew I would be closer to home after the kerfuffle. Amee Jee always knew when I had been in a fight, just by looking at my hair – girls had a tendency of pulling hair in fights and I had a lot of it. In turn, Amee Jee kerfuffled my hair a bit more, as a punishment for being late.
After school, my siblings and I went Arabic lessons and at weekends, we went to Urdu lessons. I really didn’t mind as it meant it was time away from home with other children including boys. Both environments were controlled and strict but to me it was still a little freedom.
Arabic lessons took place in a house setting by a well-respected elderly priest from Pakistan. He converted his two downstairs living rooms to accommodate the hundreds of children he was teaching between the hours of 4pm and 7pm and all day during the weekends. The room had no furniture other than a floor desk at which the priest sat. There was one room for girls and one room for boys. Here, we learnt how to read Arabic (Holy Quran). Once you were fluent, you were then tasked in memorising verses.
It was a very noisy environment with children practising their lines out loud. The priest had a long brown rubber pipe. I laugh as I write this, but it really wasn’t funny at the time. He would hit children for any mistakes they made with their passage. As the pipe was rubber, he only had to strike once, and it vibrated about 10 times on your head. It hurt, a lot. No one ever questioned why he was allowed to do this. If anyone was caught chatting or misbehaving, he would shout silence and ask the child in question to hold their ears through their legs, in a squat position and he would hit them over and over with the rubber pipe. He wasn’t as brutal with the younger children, say 10 and under, they got a gentle slap around the ears.
Urdu classes at the weekend were held at the local mosque. Here, it was a bit more like school where we sat on chairs at tables and learnt how to read and write Urdu. We were put into classes with some teachers being kinder than others. It was a quiet environment where children received the occasional slap and thankfully there was no rubber pipe in sight.
Unlike my brothers and my friends, my sister and I were not allowed to play outside which was a hard pill to swallow. What would the Asian community think or say? this was my parents’ main concern. We couldn’t do anything just in case we disgraced the family. All I ever wanted was to experience life’s simple pleasures, to put my trainers on and fill my little rucksack full of sweets and explore the outdoors. There was a little adventurous tomboy Yasmin dying to get out, but I had no freedom of movement and independence. What I would have given to feel the air on my face, the earth beneath my feet and to connect with nature.
For my sister and I, it was particularly important that we learnt how to cook, clean, sew and knit etc. The only social outdoor time we really got was when my Amee Jee used to sit out front with her friends during the summer months. We were allowed to join them after we served endless cups of Asian tea and bombay mix. All these tasks were good practise for when we had our arranged marriages. I made the best tea for my favourite aunties and for those who constantly mocked/insulted me, well, they had hot water with a splash of milk.
Amee Jee and my brothers were in constant battle with my sister when Abu Jee was not at home. In their eyes, she was crossing boundaries by doing normal teenage stuff like wearing make-up and going out with her college friends. Screaming and shouting episodes occurred daily, and I hated it. My sister tried to take her life on a few occasions and thankfully, failed. I loved it when she locked herself in her bedroom because she would play English music very, very loudly. It felt like a disco, and I took full advantage of dancing my heart out when nobody was watching.
When I was 9, my sister left home and went to live with a non-Asian family - this was unheard of in those days. The Asian community were outraged and put my parents through absolute hell as apparently my sister was setting a very bad example to their daughters and sisters. My parents were ostracised for a period and people would whisper and snigger at them when they were out and about. This broke my Abu Jee and made Amee Jee really angry, more angry than normal.
It was then, my life changed overnight from very bad to worse as all eyes were on me. I was so happy that my sister had escaped, but I missed her terribly. My sister was given the choice to return home or be cut off. I did not see her for 8 years.
From the age of 9 – 16, my life was controlled and I spent most of my time indoors when I was not at school, Arabic or Urdu lessons. When I did venture out, I was always supervised. There was no indoor and outdoor playtime, sleepovers, and trips to the park. We did however go to the beach once a year which was just the best day of the year.
I left school at 16 with basic qualifications and started working life as I wasn’t allowed to go to college.
My first job was an office junior role at a law firm in Jesmond - a trendy part of the city. Working life created a little freedom for me and I started to experience a little normality with less supervision.
I would go for lunch with my lovely colleagues, and I tracked down my sister and secretly started to spend time with her.
Travelling to the office, strangers were complimenting me and asking me out on dates. What on earth was going on!!! I wasn’t used to getting any attention never mind this sort of attention.
I used to see a guy walking past the office at 11’oclock every day and he would always go into the charity shop opposite the office. He was short, dark, had a spring in his step and was always smiling. I was drawn to his energy. I told the girls in the office, and they were super excited for me. Talk to him Yasmin, they used to say. I didn’t have the guts.
Then one day, when I was feeling particularly brave, I ran out of the office in time to walk past him. He smiled at me and said hi, I replied and then I carried on walking. I ran back to the office all flustered. The girls had been watching from the office window and they told me that he looked back at me and stood for a while. My heart was beating like a drum, and I felt all weird. Weeks went by, just watching him. Then one day, unexpectedly as I was buying my lunch at the local supermarket, I saw him picking his bananas. I walked straight up to him without even thinking about it and said hello. His eyes lit up. He said he had been looking out for me and that he wanted to ask me…. I jumped straight in and asked him if he would like to join me for a drink, he said he was going to ask the same and yes! I said great and walked away. I didn’t even know his name or how to contact him. He ran after me and asked for my number, and I gave him the office number. We met later that week, and we got on so well. Michael was Irish and a lovely guy. My first ever kiss was with Michael, and it was beautiful. We went on to be the best of friends. Through Michael, I met and made a beautiful circle of friends, friends for life. Very sadly he passed away in January 2018 and I will never ever forget him.
My beautiful circle of friends - Michael, Sandrine, Eve, Sonia, and David. These amazing humans had such a positive impact on my life, and I will be forever grateful to them for giving me the strength to start standing up for myself, especially to my brothers.
As I had a little more confidence in myself, I slowly started to cross boundaries at home and happily accepted the consequences. Being called all sorts of awful names and being slapped, punched, kicked, and spat on when I returned home after an evening out was well worth it. However, the silent treatment and being excluded at family mealtimes was extremely tough.
As I didn’t have a house key, my dear Abu Jee would wait up for me and sneak me back into the house. We used to openly talk about our favourite tipple. Abu Jee’s favourite tipple before he completed his pilgrimage was Guinness which also helped with his iron deficiency.
Abu Jee’s only ask was to be safe; to wear a long coat when I left the house, so others couldn’t see that I was dressed in western clothes; and if I used an Asian taxi driver to return home, to be dropped off a few streets away which was not the safest in the dark, but I was a super-fast runner.
Amee Jee assumed a lot and used to constantly tell me that sex was dirty (even though I wasn’t having sex) and it was a means to having babies. I knew that was a big fat lie. It didn’t look dirty to me; in fact, it looked like a lot of fun in the racy video which was hidden on top of my eldest brother’s wardrobe. She used to say, you should only be intimate with your husband. Sex/being intimate isn’t dirty at all, it’s the most beautiful experience – with the right person.
Then it all began. The thing I most dreaded. I started to be vetted for an arranged marriage in the UK. I overheard conversations between my mummy and eldest brother – we need to get her married off quickly and then she is someone else’s problem were my brother’s exact words. I wasn’t a problem; I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Abu Jee was the only one who understood me. He asked me to keep Amee Jee happy and agree to meet and greet as required.
In time, I could see that the chaos on the back of me crossing boundaries, was starting to take a toll on my Abu Jee’s health, so at the age of 18, I agreed to an arranged marriage in Pakistan.
I met someone and everything was going really well. Farrukh was from Islamabad, and he was a dream. A dream that very sadly didn’t come true. Words were apparently exchanged between his daddy and Amee Jee. Amee Jee made me walk away on the day of my engagement. I can’t find the words to explain how I felt that day. Farrukh and I were left heartbroken. For Amee Jee, her pride was more important than my feelings. I kept in touch with Farrukh and very sadly he passed away on 24th December 2020 following a short illness.
I was then introduced to someone else in Multan and was only given a short space of time to make a decision. I had no choice really and couldn’t see any other way out.
It was like jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire. He seemed like a lovely person, how wrong I was. My life turned into a nightmare, and I experienced much trauma both emotionally and physically.
Amee Jee was the only family member present at my wedding in Pakistan. My brothers couldn’t care less, and my Abu Jee was not well enough to travel.
Leading up to the wedding, I wrote a letter to Farrukh asking him to rescue me. I waited on my wedding day but there was no Farrukh. It was a day of numbness and fake smiles. I found out after the event that my letter had never reached Farrukh as it was intercepted by an extended family member on my side.
My wedding night which should have been filled with romance and love, instead was filled with what I can only describe as horror. My now ex-husband did not understand the meaning of the word NO.
That night, I decided that this was not the person I wanted to spend one more minute with never mind the rest of my life. I was too scared to tell anyone and there was no way I was going to tell Amee Jee, who left to go back to UK within days of my wedding.
For many months, I was trapped. I overheard conversations of how women had been murdered and how these matters were easily covered up by paying backhanders to the police. I was scared, very scared. I had to play the game, to be able return to the UK safely.
My phone calls were being monitored each time I spoke to my family, so I had to pretend that everything was absolutely fine. I couldn’t go outdoors without being supervised by a family member. I managed to get out on my own a couple of times, only to be found minutes later and brought back home.
I then found myself being taken to a back street abortion clinic, well, I say clinic, it was someone’s dark, damp, back room that had what I can only describe as a human sized wooden blood-stained chopping block. It reminded me of the chopping board we had back at home that Amee Jee used to prepare meat. Never, had I been so scared and in so much pain. The tool the women used resembled a corkscrew bottle opener which was left inside of me for over a week without any pain relief. I was brought back home only to be left in a room where I was brought meals with nobody checking in on me. Other than the emotional scars, luckily there was no long-term physical damage.
To be able to return to the UK, I had to do a lot of convincing and pretending, which was vile. It was all an act, a complete act.
Managing to convince, I escaped the situation and returned to the UK. Once I crossed the line at Multan airport, I took off my wedding ring and flung it to the floor and did the same with the veil, which I was forced to wear on my head.
Arriving back in the UK, I was stood outside the family home, weak and very reluctant to ring the doorbell. I found myself yet again, very scared. I was worried about what I was going to tell my family. Amee Jee opened the door and did not recognise me until I spoke. I was unrecognisable, half the person both physically and emotionally.
I could only tell her part of what had happened as I was so ashamed and embarrassed. She told me that I needed to make it work. I sat down separately and told one of my brothers everything. He cried; he couldn’t believe that I had been through so much. At last, someone understood, and I felt such relief, thinking that I would be supported out of this hell hole situation. In the same breath, he went on to say– but you haven’t really given this marriage a chance, have you? my heart sank. What needed to happen for my family to understand? Did I need to die? I knew at that moment that the only person that was stopping me from moving forward was ME.
My ex-husband continued to call me daily and I shut his calls down each time without my family knowing. Eventually, he sent me a divorce notice which I hid under my single bed – at last, I was FREE.
I slowly started to see some light in my life, then darkness quickly fell as dear Abu Jee’s health deteriorated very quickly. He was admitted to hospital. A few days passed. The consultant said that he was going to be fine, and that he would be coming home soon. On Sunday afternoon, the phone rang, and we all rushed to the hospital. Amee Jee was reciting a passage – a passage for when someone is about to pass. I screamed and asked her to stop. I kept telling myself that Abu Jee wasn’t’ going anywhere. Abu Jee kept looking up across the room. Amee Jee said his family are here to collect him, look he is looking up at them. I was desperate, desperate not to let him go. I held his hand tightly and begged him not to leave me. He took a very deep loud final breathe, smiled and left. Part of me died with him that day. Never had I felt so alone.
I was relieved that Abu Jee wasn’t going to experience the backlash of my divorce from the Asian community. The Asian community were horrid and talked about me until I was old news. I told my mummy a little more about what happened without going into detail and she was finally on my side.
Slowly but surely, I started to turn my life around. As a mature student, I went to university and graduated with an honours degree in International Business and went on to complete Level 7 in Management and many more qualifications relating to my profession.
For me, student life, as you can imagine was incredible. I was offered a place in America but as Amee Jee was not in a good place after losing Abu Jee, I needed to study close to home, so I could return home each evening. However, I managed to live in Edinburgh during my placement year which was so much fun and at times a complete blur. I worked extremely hard and played harder as I had a lot of catching up to do on life. I met the most amazing people and formed some incredibly special friendships, friendships for life, Riz being one of them who I now call my little brother.
My friends, a beautiful bunch of humans most certainly showed me the way - the way to the best bars, nightclubs, and restaurants in the city. For once, I was living life to the full and enjoying life’s simple pleasures.
I also met Ian, the love of my life. I saw him across the dancefloor. He was extremely striking – very tall, athletic with big auburn wavy hair and beautiful big blue eyes. He was dressed in a bright yellow shirt - I love a man in colour. I took one look at him and turned to my friend Eve and said that’s the man I am going to marry. She laughed and asked me if I was drunk, I was stone cold sober. Then he started dancing and my heart sank. He was so very camp, but I assumed wrong, thankfully.
It was love at first sight and a connection of souls before we even spoke. The trouble was, he wasn’t Asian, and I was yet again faced with another dilemma. I could never give out my number for obvious reasons, so, Ian gave me his number after we talked and danced the night away.
I didn’t call him for a month. Each time, I dialled his number, I ended the call immediately because I liked him so very much. In a group situation, I was very confident but in a one-to-one, I was quite the opposite. Eventually, I called him, and he remembered me. I didn’t think you were every going to call me he said. We arranged our first date and due to a unforeseen situation at home, I couldn’t make it, and I ended up as a no show. Not a good start but Ian understood when I explained why, a few days later.
We started meeting with our friends in tow, this made matters easier and less stressful. If I was spotted in a group by my brothers or the Asian community, it was not as obvious that Ian and I were dating. When Ian asked me around to his place for dinner, I used to turn up with all my girlfriends as I was still socially awkward on a one-to-one basis. I did this on many occasions and Ian was very understanding. What I loved about Ian and still do, is that he is a true gentleman, what you see is what you get, and he is the most authentic, fun, intelligent, interesting, loving and caring person you could ever hope to meet.
We dated for 8 years and during the early years, outside of partying together, we would drive to other cities, just so we could do normal stuff in public, like hold hands. We then travelled extensively aboard together on some unforgettable road trips. This was such good fun but very tricky. I had to pretend that I was going away with my girlfriends. I took pictures with random girls to show Amee Jee when I returned and when I phoned home, I had to make sure there were female voices in the background.
I bought my own apartment and furnished it beautifully, however, this remained empty, as I secretly lived with Ian. At times, I had to rush to my apartment when Amee Jee wanted to pop over for a cup of Asian tea and a chat.
In time, I introduced Ian to my family as a friend. They loved him and Amee Jee started referring to him as my son. If only she knew.
Eventually, I had the courage to tell Amee Jee about Ian being more than a friend. After around 3 months of emotional turmoil, she eventually gave me her blessing (with conditions) following advice given to her from a young super cool Muslim priest that luckily had an open mind and heart. Ian and I arranged our wedding as quickly as possible before Amee Jee had time to change her mind.
Just for me, Ian embraced some elements of Islam. He chose an Asian name (conditions) – Mohammed Ali. Amee Jee was so impressed by Ian’s choice, such a traditional name which includes Mohammed – the prophet, she said. The truth was, Ian chose it as he was a big fan of the boxer - Mohammed Ali.
Our wedding day in 2009 was the best day of my/our life with my Amee Jee and one of my brothers by my side. During the Asian vows, Ian was addressed as Mohammed Ali by the priest. As we had not told anyone about this, there were a lot of blank and confused faces from our guests, and I overheard Ian’s mum say who very loudly. During the English vows, Ian was asked if he was known by any other name! Later that day, we waited for Amee Jee to retire for the night before we popped the champagne bottles – yes, we were still sneaking around, even on our wedding day.
Ian was shocked and saddened when I told him my backstory and I did this very early on in the relationship. I love the fact that he fully gets me. He supports everything I do and want to do, even the scary extreme adrenaline activities. His response to my ideas is always, wow and when as opposed to why. Luckily, he is a fabulous cook, he can sew and doesn’t need me to knit him anything. Together, we have a handsome, intelligent, kind, caring, adventurous teenage son – Walter Jaan. Jaan is what my Abu Jee called me, and it means my life in Urdu.
Following Abu Jee’s passing and our wedding, Amee Jee and I grew extremely close. Amee Jee finally understood me and very quickly realised that I was the only one to stand by her when she needed her family the most. Very sadly, her life changed drastically following Abu Jee’s passing due to coercive behaviour being inflicted on her by my brother. This is something I find extremely hard to write about.
Both Ian and I supported Amee Jee as much and as best as possible. Amee Jee and I spent a lot of quality time together doing lots of lovely walks and I took her to places she had never been before such as the theatre, cinema, museums, art galleries, restaurants and even a cocktail bar where we enjoyed mocktails. She told me that I was beautiful inside and out and that she and my late Abu Jee were very proud of me. You can imagine how this made me feel, it meant the world and I cried buckets of happy tears sat on the park bench holding Amee Jee’s frail hand.
For four years, Amee Jee spent a lot of time in and out of hospital as she was battling a very rare blood disease. November 2011, one afternoon in hospital, Amee Jee and I shared our favourite chocolate bar together and we talked about everything and anything. It was a beautiful moment, simple, yet very beautiful. Later that day she had a very bad fall. I rushed to the hospital and waited. Resuscitation was not successful, and very sadly Amee Jee fell asleep. She was in peace, peace from all the pain and no longer did she need to live a life of fear in her own home. Amee Jee was laid to rest the following day whilst Walter Jaan was at nursery. I found much comfort in bathing Amee Jee before the funeral, she still had the most beautiful soft skin, and I combed her hair just how she liked it. Later that day, Walter Jaan and I danced to his favourite song, I’m Happy by Pharrell Williams, as we did every day after nursery. As you probably gathered, I absolutely love dancing, but this one dance was one of the hardest and it tore my heart in two.
I am so incredibly grateful for my late parents and the fact that Amee Jee, Ian, Walter and I had the chance to make some very beautiful memories together, memories that we will never ever forget.
Back when I was growing up, I never imagined my life to turn out as it has. From an extremely strict upbringing in the UK, having to navigate cultural expectations and overcoming personal trauma, I managed to find freedom and build a life filled with love, success and authenticity.
All my experiences have shaped me as an individual, wife, mother and professional and I am determined to empower others to live their true selves.
Never in a million years, did I think I would work my way up to senior management level, chair board meetings, present to hundreds of people, attend royal garden parties and more importantly walk with my head held high - oozing confidence.
Although I lacked confidence and did not have any self-esteem whatsoever, I was a tough little cookie back then and I’m an even tougher little cookie now. A message to my younger self, thank you for not giving up on life, we made it, survived and thrived.
Thank you to Ian and all my friends – you saved me and helped me live a life which was once only a dream. For this, I am forever grateful.
To all who mocked, insulted, hurt and broke me, I forgive you. You made me more determined and resilient. The higher the mountain, the higher I climbed. I still have my big goofy smile but now it’s for real.
Ian, Walter Jaan and I have planted trees in memory of Abu Jee, Amee Jee, Michael, David and Farrukh. These trees are growing beautifully, they are standing strong and tall - just like me.
My life lessons are helping both Ian and I parent Walter the best way possible. Teaching him everything I wanted and craved when I was growing up - to be a child, have fun, make mistakes and live in the moment. More importantly giving him freedom; freedom to think independently, freedom of speech and freedom of independence and movement.
Purpose
I have hidden my hurt and pain for years by putting it in a box at the back of my mind, thinking it will magically disappear.
Healing is all about facing the pain and moving through it with courage, so recently, for me, it has been about acknowledging my scars rather than covering them up and I finally feel that I have nothing to be embarrassed/ashamed of.
I’m hoping, by speaking up, it will help reach someone, somewhere, who is trapped in similar circumstances, and does not have freedom of movement and independence. Never give up on yourself, there is hope, there is freedom, and you can do anything you put your mind to – slowly but surely.
To teach others, the importance of forgiveness and release. If yesterday was heavy, put it down. This is so very important for your soul; to forgive and let go of the weight you carry from the past. I have learnt and continue to learn from all experiences. This does not only help me move forward in my life but more importantly it helps me to live in the moment.
My dream when I was little was to trek K2 Base Camp, and it still is. Following my struggles in my early life, I am now ready to climb that mountain with my rucksack full of sweets and Amee Jee’s prayer beads around my neck. All being well, I plan to do this in the coming years.
In the meantime, with my gorgeous boys by my side, I continue to enjoy and fully appreciate life’s simple pleasures, great adventures and my freedom; freedom to be me and to explore to my heart’s content - come rain or shine, day or night.
Nobody and nothing can stop me now!
