Love Is A Dangerous Wave

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“Love is like the ocean. It’s not easy to stop when the waves hit.”
The statement above is absolutely true. I know because I was hit by the same wave at the age of 18.
I grew up in a religious household. I had to pray five times a day. I wore a hijab. My parents were strict but loving. They encouraged me to be independent, courageous, and fearful.
I was nurtured since young to believe that I had enormous potential in life to be whatever I wanted to be. My dad thought I would make a great lawyer or a politician while my mum believed that I would be the first female in our family to have a good education and a successful career.
My parents had big dreams for me. Unfortunately, they did not know about the ‘love wave’ that was heading in my direction, neither did I. It destroyed everything we had planned.
Less than two years after I left high school, at a time when I was doing my professional degree, I met my first love, the man who later became my husband and fathered my children.
As the only daughter, I was protected all my life. My dad enrolled me in an all-girls school at 12. When I reached puberty at 13, my mum made it a routine to go through all my belongings to make sure I had no boyfriends or at least wasn’t trying to find any.
Coming from such an upbringing and having been protected from the gaze of the opposite gender, having a man express his interest in me was an overwhelming feeling. I was struck by love.
It was a wave all right. A big, massive wave which took me by surprise and sucked me deep. It drowned me. I wasn’t able to think or act rationally. As an 18-year-old with no experience whatsoever with boys, my libido went from zero to full blast.
At the time, all I wanted was him. Nothing else mattered. The wave which sucked me deep also washed away all the dreams I had for myself.
In a matter of a few months, I stood in front of my parents and told them I wanted to get married. I had no interest in studies or a career. At the time, I wanted to build a future with the man I loved. And I was prepared to sacrifice everything for it.
My parents were devastated. They tried their absolute best to talk to me about my decision, they wanted me to understand what I was getting myself into. They tried and they tried their mighty best.
Unfortunately, at the time, I wasn’t able to hear them. I was drowned in love.
They had no choice but to give me their blessing.
Six months before my 20th birthday, I got married. I eventually quit college and became a young mother. I then devoted myself to build a content home with the man of my choice.
My husband at the time was a hardworking man and a good provider. I supported his ambition and took care of our household so he could climb the ladder of success. And he surely did, by the time we celebrated our 10th anniversary, he went from being a regular staff at a small company in Penang to a vice-president in an international company.
I was immensely proud of him. But deep down, I was jealous. His accomplishments reminded me of the dream I used to have for myself. I had devoted 10 years of my life to the marriage, and I had gotten tired of managing the household every single day of that 10 years.
Slowly, I began to look out for opportunities. Something I could do to show myself that I was still capable, that I still had potential. I had to find things to do to feed my ego and silence those voices inside my head which kept telling me that I was just a homemaker who had no success of her own to celebrate.
For a moment I felt lucky to have some opportunities come my way but unfortunately, they were restricted by my husband who could not understand why I needed a part-time job when he was paying all the bills. He wanted me to keep myself busy with household matters and nothing else.
My sense of self further deteriorated every time an argument was pursued between us, reminding me that my place was in the kitchen and with the children. Over time, I shifted from being an equal partner in our marriage to a mere subordinate – at least that is how I felt.
Fifteen years after our first encounter which swept me into the ocean of love, the wave was finally broken. Our marriage ended.
I walked out of our marriage as the same young girl he married – with no degree, no working experience, and no assets. I had to start over, this time with two children under my care.
Dangerous wave
Over the years, I have shared my story with many people I have met. It is also carried in my 2019 published book ‘So Fa So Good.’ I do not wish for any women to make the same mistakes I have.
I believe both women and men should be empowered, well-educated and well-financed before they decide to get married. They should be taught that the love wave sometimes gets washed away, and when that happens, they should have something to fall back onto.
I believe girls should be given the freedom to socialise with boys. Girl-boy friendships matter as it gives them a chance to undo socialised gender constraints and to explore themselves outside of constrictive gender stereotypes. It stops girls from blushing at the sight of every boy who shows her some interest, and instead makes her increase her level of expectation.
Wholesome sex education is also very important.
As a mother, I taught my children about libido, masturbation, and sex before they reached puberty. I taught them about condoms and protected sex. I gave them space to learn about their own bodies and experience different feelings.
Love and sex in my house are not taboo subjects. We have normalised it.
And friendships with the opposite gender is highly encouraged.
I have only two rules for my children if they ever wish to get married. First, they must be living independently, earning a good salary. Second, they must have been in at least five years of relationship(s) before they decide to get married.
With the government’s reluctance to ban teenage marriages, it is up to us, the educated part of Malaysian society, to empower our children so they are well equipped before falling into the dangerous wave.
Being Muslims with certain restrictions does not mean we cannot nurture our children for their future well-being. Our children should not be sacrificed for the sake of religion.
Our children must learn that getting married at whatever age does not solve their problems, nor does it promise everlasting happiness, if they are not equipped with the right tools to make it work. - Mkini
FA ABDUL is a multi-award winning playwright and director in the local performing arts scene, a published author, a television scriptwriter, a media trainer and a mother. Her ultimate mission in life is to live out of a small suitcase.
The views expressed here are those of the author/contributor and do not necessarily represent the views of MMKtT.

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