Memoirs generally open one’s life to the world often in ways that may be hidden from public view. They express feelings, experiences, and thoughts that are sometimes very personal, baring open one’s heart and mind. Usually they focus on one or two aspects of one’s life, leaving aside many others, yet giving the readers an understandable peak into the author’s life.
One heart-felt memoir is Heart Tantrums: A Feminist’s Memoir on Misogyny and Marriage by Aisha Sarwari, a public speaker, writer, women’s rights advocate, and co-founder of Women’s Advancement Hub. She has been working in the field of public affairs and communications for over 20 years. She writes for Dawn, The Express Tribune, the BBC, and The Guardian and has two published books: the first being Find Your Way Home and the other Heart Tantrums.
Sarwari met Yasser, a passionate young man (now a human rights lawyer turned internationally acclaimed biographer of Pakistan’s founding father, M. A. Jinnah), on an online message board, arguing about the subcontinent’s history and setting facts about Pakistan straight. At this time both were studying in the US and were drawn towards each other by their mutual love for Pakistan, optimism about its future, and belief in its potential. After graduating from their respective universities, they both returned, albeit at different times to their ancestral country Pakistan, and got married.
Her married life in Lahore was very different from that of her earlier life. Since Sarwari had never lived in South Asia, as she was born in Uganda and studied in the US, she initially faced difficulties living in the joint family system, struggling to meet cultural expectations, and fulfilling her desire for equality and acceptance. Moreover, the diagnosis of Yasser’s brain tumour, which according to reports had started growing around the time they got married, made her life more difficult, as among other things the tumour affected his emotional regulation and expression, provoking aggressive outbursts.
The book is divided into three parts. The first part is about Yasser’s tumour, his altered personality, and the violence that he meted out to her because of his strange behaviour caused by the tumour. She begins her story some years into the marriage, when domestic violence in her relationship was at its worst, and when no one suspected that Yasser had a brain tumour which was the reason why he was not in control of his behaviour.
Yasser is controlling, has obsessive-compulsive disorder, and always wants things his way. To add to that, he is outspoken on social media platforms which costs them friends and social support. But if he is in disagreement with someone or feels offended by someone’s remark on social media, he not only blocks them himself but also forces Sarwari to block them, often resorting to violence to get it done. His comments often begin a backlash and somehow people call Sarwari to tell him to correct himself; any attempt on her part to tell him to tone down starts another fight.
The author takes the reader through the painful episodes of her life. She talks about the verbal and physical abuse she faced in her marriage, her pain, loneliness, helplessness, anguish, and much more. Reading through her narration of the abuse she faced, one feels like asking how could a well-educated, financially independent, successful career woman like Sarwari, who is a committed feminist and a vocal advocate against cruelties towards women, accept such abuse and remain in a marriage that she indicts with charges of domestic violence and even infidelity.
However, Sarwari, quite early in the book, writes: “I have spent the last few years utterly confused, torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay—only because science tells me that Yasser is not the one who is the jerk here. So, I have stayed, but staying has meant putting myself in harm’s way.” Also, she stayed for their daughters, and, of course, out of her love for him.
At places, she recalls happy moments with Yasser and the times when he stood by her. For instance, when he stays by their daughter’s bedside holding her hand to comfort her in hospital, and when he supports her when she wants to terminate the pregnancy; he tells the doctor: “No I will not try to convince her; she has convinced me. This is Aisha’s body. And what is in her body is also hers. We have come to you with that together.” It shows his love for her and respect of her wish, as well as his feminist side.
Going further back in time, in the second part, she recalls her upbringing in Uganda, her relationship with her parents, losing her father in early adolescence, and leaving behind her family home in Uganda to go and live in Kenya with her mother’s family who were more conservative and try to discipline her. She had been taught by her mother to be quiet, make almost no noise in her actions, and practically have a presence so faint that it cannot even be registered. Because the opposite was just plain ‘batameezi’ [bad-manners]. And “the worst thing you can be, besides being a girl, is being a batameez [badmannered girl].”
She recalls her parents’ home in Uganda and her childhood. She loved her father and is devastated at his death. Though she loved her mother, she feels hurt from the days back in her old house, recalling events when she felt betrayed by her; yet she is always compassionate, even while blaming her. “Ami was a victim of Abu, I a victim of her family. Ami and I shared a trauma.” She mentions how her mother lied when she was hurt to save herself from her husband’s anger; how in her aunt’s house she would let others berate her and wouldn’t speak up for her when she was routinely humiliated. Here, too, one can see references to patriarchy and misogyny; her mother is afraid of her husband and later is not ready to speak up for her daughter to her brother.
She talks about the differences in her parents’ families, both families’ lifestyles, and her father’s love for both Pakistan and Uganda. He had come to Uganda years ago and always considered it home, though supported Pakistan and Jinnah, which perhaps instilled in her the love for Pakistan.
In the third part she talks about what it was like living with Yasser and his mom, her separation from Yasser, and her workplace problems including workplace harassment, etc. She describes how some of her bosses treated her and manipulated her to their advantage, and the misogyny she faced.
In the job market, she realised, “Men were my gateway to surviving in the pay-cheque world. Someone had to sign the pay-cheque. Men were it. They had to do important things or tell other important men to do it for them... If I wanted money in my bank I had to kiss up to The Man.”
After the death of Yasser’s father, his tumour diagnosis and treatment followed and she had become the primary breadwinner of the family. She had to relocate for better paying jobs, and even live apart from her family for some time. It put a lot of strain on Sarwari as she was now not only the primary breadwinner but Yasser’s care-giver as well. The financial troubles and familial dysfunction as she moves between Lahore and Islamabad makes them question the point of it all.
Though a lot of space is given to Yasser’s tumour, the book is not just about that. It is about identity and belonging, misogyny and motherhood, and patriarchy and partnership. It touches on themes like the experience of living as immigrants, establishing one’s identity, oppression faced in families, living and navigating through the nuances of Pakistani society, all the while suffering from systemic misogyny. Sarwari talks about the tumultuous times faced by her, the catastrophic events that unfolded in her life, the multitude of issues that she faced in her domestic life and how she navigated her way through whatever life threw at her.
Though she has not elaborated on it, Sarwari does mention “Good things have also happened. I have benefitted from the systems I have fought against. Having a husband has protected me from far more misogyny that I could have been subjected to and has given me the permission to have a voice without fighting society for it—just that one permission slip has eased my life considerably. …”
It is interesting to note that the author does not only talk about the problems she had to face and the attitude and behaviour of others in her life, she is also critical of her own behaviour through the pressure-cooker moments of life. “There were times when I didn’t take it lying down. I gave my own share of sorry-assed sucker punches, hurling them on Yasser’s jaw. I called him inappropriate names, …” she writes. Then later, “In my audits with my therapist, I confess that I am worst off than Yasser. My rage has no basis. I didn’t start off as broken and yet here I am a savagely destructive woman.”
In his Foreword to the book, her husband, Yasser, admits to violence and infidelity “Which almost broke us apart.” He acknowledges, “Aisha stood with me through thick and thin. … I was thoroughly undeserving of a partner like Aisha. I plucked a beautiful flower and then trod on it.”
Sarwari mentions that she never meant to write a book in the first place; the publisher literally pulled it out of her after her article about Yasser’s tumour, his book on Jinnah, and her care-giver fatigue from supporting her husband during his illness, on The Scroll.in, “seemed to hit the nerve”. She confesses that when asked to write a book she first resisted and said “I am sorry, but there is no story here.”
But here we are with a great book in our hands that is an honest look at the challenges that women face, whether it is love, loss, or finding ourselves. It is a story about balancing what society expects from us with what we truly need. At the same time, it is a beautiful reminder that women deserve to prioritise their own happiness and strength.
Rizwana Naqvi is a freelance journalist and tweets @naqviriz. She can be reached at naqvi59rizwana@gmail.com
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the writer