An open letter to Mrs Roy

Dear Mrs Roy,

I wonder how it must have been back then in the eighties when words like patriarchy did not even exist in common parlance. I placed myself in your shoes and tried to imagine how far I would have got.

“It’s all your fault only.”

I would have been humbled by this. Yes, it was my fault that I chose to do what any well bred Syrian Christian girl belonging to an ancient family in her right mind would not dare do. I wilfully diluted my blood line by crossing sacred lines of religion and community. I would hang my head in shame and accept it as my fate with an effusive apology.

“A girl has no right to property. She is now another man’s property.”

I would raise a balled fist and say a few cuss words in my mind to no one in particular, because such dictums are no one’s fault in particular. Because this is how things always were. And this is how things always will be.

“Don’t forget you are a girl.”

I would calmly accept that I was meant to be married off to the lowest bidder. If one is fair and charming , one is an asset to one’s family simply because it means you can be married off without much fuss. If you are dark skinned and buck toothed then you might get lucky because your family might actually write off an equal share of the property to you, amidst much hand wringing in a bid to rid you of their backs.

“You should have thought of all this before walking out of your marriage.”

Yes indeed. I would have sat there quietly, gallantly keeping the peace and absorbing all the abuse that came my way with unnatural stoicism . One fine day I would fill my fountain pen with Prussian blue ink and write a long letter of apology to everyone who crossed my path, checking the spelling of ‘poltroon’ twice before signing it with a flourish and jumping from the nearest ravine.

“A long drawn out legal battle will only spoil your family name.”

I would think of all the old men sitting in the judiciary shaking their heads at such a ridiculous demand. Equal rights for a daughter , especially a once married and now divorced daughter? I would think of the cost and the time involved and take a step further back and decide that my carefully cultivated family name must not be sullied after all.

I step out of your shoes.
I can no longer bear to be in them.
For like many well bred Syrian Christian girls from ancient families, I am a coward. Only fit for googling fancy synonyms of a coward. Poltroon, caitiff, craven, weakling…

To quote your own words, “Oh, I was just angry. I didn’t have any other reason. I wasn’t doing it for public good.” You fought for your rights because you truly believed in your rights and paid no heed to the naysayers. You did it on a matter of principle.
Countless lives of Syrian Christian women have been influenced by one strong woman’s grit and unswerving determination.
Bravo! And farewell!

From a Syrian Christian girl who once briefly studied in your school.

#maryroy

#pallikoodam

#kottayam