"For mad I may be, but I will never be convenient."

Living a life that defies social conventions is never easy. At first, it seemed like a harmless, pride-inducing fact that I was the first woman in my immediate family who took up a full time job. And that I was the first woman to be doing a Ph.D. And to get married while doing it. I didn't think about these differences too much because I had parents, who despite having lived a very conventional life, wanted to see all three of us prosper irrespective of whether we were sons or daughters. I took their drive and energy and was determined to transform it into something that would always make them proud. But with time, I have realized that being a woman who chooses to work, particularly in a Pakistani society, is not easy. It is not always because people outrightly oppose you; it is often because instead of appreciation, all you get you is an attitude that says, "Well, it was your choice. Who said it wouldn't be hard?" And also, because of this one taboo characteristic, people will always learn to find fault in you.

I believe that it is women themselves who have hindered their own progress. Most Pakistani women have internalized their situation and have come to accept it as the best outcome possible. Near me, this is an insult to the wonderful female creature God has fashioned. There are two grounds on which women often justify their own choice of being a homemaker: a) if I am not home full-time, my children's upbringing will suffer and b) the first task of a woman in Islam is to look after her home, as the first task of a man is to go out and earn. I have nothing against homemakers; my own mother has been a wonderful housewife and I think she has done a beautiful job of bringing us up. But to justify your own choice by finding faults in the choices of others is a little uncalled for.

First of all, I do not agree with the standard South Asian critique that "western" families suffer from a lack of bonding. Yes, many American parents will not spend as much time with their children as Pakistani mothers do, and they will let their children be independent post the age of eighteen, but what is so wrong in that? I find that many of my so-called "western" colleagues are much better individuals than I am. The men know how to cook, clean up after themselves, take care of their own affairs while at the same time doing full time jobs. I am pretty sure that the men and women whom the world has come to regard as geniuses did not all have live-at-home mothers. In fact, I think that at some point, mothers need to step back so that their children can develop and flourish. There is nothing wrong if a child wants to spend time by himself, or do his own laundry (the use of the pronoun his is intentional here). Also, I find that there is a spurious correlation imagined between the time you spend with your children and their love for you. If you are kind to your children, spend time with them often enough, and work hard so that they may have a better future: they will love you regardless of whether you spent your entire life washing their dishes or not. At least, that's how I feel. I may, of course, be utterly wrong.

On the religious front: one example that never ceases to cross my mind is that of the first woman who embraced Islam, the Prophet's beloved wife Khadija. She was a business woman; it was her sound financial capacity that allowed the Prophet to indulge entirely in spreading the message of Islam. She was a working mother, and the Prophet's most beloved companion. I find it odd that people brush aside that example and claim that a woman is meant to stay at home. I do not contest that a woman's duty is to keep her home affairs in order, but if she can afford house help, she is allowed to go outside and work in a permissible fashion. I also wonder what the limit of those "house affairs" is.

Of course, if I work, my house will less cleaner than if I were to stay at home. Yes, I will not be the best cook. My husband will not always take home cooked lunch to work. My children will not always be picked up by me, but will often have to take public buses home. But maybe, if I face adverse circumstances where my husband is no longer around to help me financially, I will be able to raise my children without any outside help. Maybe, I will be better able to deal with the world if I have already been out in the world. Maybe, I will raise stronger children who will know that a woman's capacities are not limited to cooking and cleaning, but that she is worth much more. Maybe the conversations I have with them challenge them to look at the world in a different way, so that I am able to raise critical thinkers of the men and women whom I give birth to.

I do not claim to be a superwoman. As my Oxford advisor said to me once, every choice has an opportunity cost and every decision is made at a trade-off. I understand that I will lose some things by being a working mother. I know that I will not meet the expectations of many individuals around me. I also know that many others will look at me with a critical eye and forever deride me for the decisions I have taken. But if my contribution can take some weight off my husband's shoulders, if it safeguards me against possible future adversities, if it can help me make a difference to people's perceptions, add even a dollar to the GDP of the world (hopefully, my own country) and can, in whatever small a way it may be, teach women that they are capable of much more than they think, I would have succeeded.

God did not make me, did not give me a brain and physical functionality so that I may limit what I can do. God made me, sent me as His viceroy on earth, so that in the changing times, I am able to prove that I am as much His creation as any man is. And if at the end of the day, I have too many dishes in the  sink or children who can cook their own food, I wouldn't mind at all.

This is an ode to all working women in my life: those beautiful mothers to my best friends who have raised amazing children, those leaders who have taught the world that women are as capable as men, those scientists without whose contribution the medical field would have been distraught, those teachers who have fashioned amazing minds over the years (most of all, my own teachers) and those thinkers and writers who have demonstrated that a woman's sensitivity is often better prone to the literary enterprise than a man's. I recognize now what you must have had to stand up against, and how elegantly you managed to succeed through it all.

For mad you may have been, but you chose never to be convenient.
And I hope I too can live up to that legacy.