O you, living at the mercy of desire

Under the weight of expectations, why do you tire

Close by, the wind that sways and stirs me

It knows all, it’s there to urge me

Don’t suffocate the depth within you

Nurture your soul, don’t be afraid to grant yourself what’s due

I’m assailable, but I’m in my mind

I don’t need you telling me that I’m starry-eyed

I don’t wanna hold up if I can’t break

I don’t wanna shut down just to feel safe

I’m pathetic, so frenetically romanticizing

But there’s just something so poetic in the clutter, you can’t wear me down

Oh, you can’t wear me down

– Lyrics by Abdullah Siddiqui, Maanu & Xulfi

A few days ago, I shared a post on reddit about AI art depicting women in rural Bangladesh. Today I want to share my own experience of living in rural Australia for over 4 years.

Firstly, a note about demographics. In Sydney, depending on the neighborhood, you can walk around all day and never meet a white person. However, rural Australia is predominantly white.

The second thing I noticed since day one - women work literally everywhere, not just in specific industries. I worked at a petrol station for a few years and we have always had women drive huge fuel-delivery trucks and single-handedly manage the plumbing to load fuel into our tanks. It’s not uncommon to see women work in road construction too. I used to see them operate drill machines and drive forklifts to clear up rubbish. If you ever visit a hardware store here, you’ll find women showing customers how to operate chainsaws, lawnmowers etc.

Thirdly, even in family-run businesses like farms and workshops, its the women who manage all the financial matters. Men typically handle the grunt work while the wife or daughter handles everything from customer service, cash handling to applying for bank loans.

Lastly, women in rural Australia, are amazingly fit. Most school-going girls play football and netball or take up swimming and surfing. This continues well into their adulthood. You’ll find mothers going on long bicycle rides or challenging mountain-hikes along with their children.

Moral of the story: If anyone tries to tell you what women can’t do, they are full of crap.

My dad, like a lot of Bengali men from his generation, spent most of his life taking his wife for granted. He always expected warm food on the table, clothes washed, ironed and folded etc. Never stopped to appreciate my mother who always prioritized his comfort over her own.

At the age of 71, my dad is showing early signs of dementia and cognitive decline. He doesnt understand a lot of things, and gets confused easily. I find it adorable the way he looks at mom as if he is pleading her to help him out. If his eyes could talk, it would say, “Honey, there’s no one in the world I can trust more than you.”

Thinking about it makes me emotional. I wish he had shown this respect all his life, instead of waiting till he felt completely helpless.