Page 87 - A Woman Is No Man

Fareeda pinched the edge of a cookie, popped it in her mouth. Her eyes
widened as the taste settled on her tongue. “That’s also a good sign.”
“A good sign of what?” Sarah interrupted. Her face looked almost

yellow in the warm evening light cast through the window, and in that
instant Isra couldn’t help picture Fareeda’s open palm against her cheek.
She wondered how often Sarah was hit.
“Well,” Fareeda said, “according to old wives’ tales, a woman who has
morning sickness and craves sweets is carrying a girl.”
Sarah said nothing but frowned at her mother.
“But you aren’t experiencing either,” Fareeda told Isra with a grin. “So

you must be carrying a boy!”
Isra didn’t know what to say. She felt a twist in her core. Maybe she did
have morning sickness after all.
“Why the sour face?” said Fareeda, reaching for another cookie. “You
don’t want a boy?”
“No, I—”

“A boy is better, trust me. They’ll care for you when you’re older, carry
on the family name—”
“Are you saying you weren’t happy when you had me?” Sarah asked
sharply. “Because I wasn’t a precious boy?”
“I’m not saying that,” Fareeda said. “But everyone wants a boy. You ask
anyone, and they’ll tell you.”
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t get it. Girls are the ones that help their

mothers. Omar and Ali don’t do anything for you.”
“Nonsense. Your brothers would give me an arm and a leg if I needed.”
“Sure they would,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.
Listening to Sarah, Isra wondered if this was what it meant to be an
American: having a voice. She wished she knew how to speak her mind,
wished she could’ve said those things to Mama: that girls were just as

valuable as boys, that their culture was unfair, and that Mama, as a woman,
should’ve understood that. She wished she could’ve told Mama that she
was sick of always being put second, of being shamed, disrespected,
abused, and neglected unless there was cleaning or cooking to be done.
That she resented being made to believe she was worthless, just another
thing a man could claim at will.
“Don’t mind what Mama says,” Sarah whispered to Isra when Fareeda

left the kitchen.