I’m on the wrong side of 50 but living my best life ever. Though, getting here was a journey.
As an almost 60-year-old desi woman that means I was born in the 60’s, got married in the 80’s and raised a family in the 90’s and early 2000’s, a period of change. When my generation hit our twenties, half of them had arranged marriages, between the ages of 23 and 28, and many were virgins on their wedding bed. Like me! We were told, ‘marriage is for keeps,’ ‘have your first kid before 30’ and other such nuggets. Within a few years of getting married, I realized it was a mistake. But, I stayed quiet.
My first thought was I failed my parents. Then I felt guilty about the expense of my big fat wedding just going down the drain. And my two kids would be products of a broken home because of my selfishness. Not to forget the stigma of being a divorced woman in a society where few took that route. I decided to stay in my bad marriage. There’s a quote in The Gita, ‘marriage is an unconditional duty that one decides to perform.’ I’m not religious, but this unwritten message is the one I picked up and tasked myself with being a good mum, a good daughter, good daughter-in-law and yes, a dutiful wife. It wasn’t all bad. There were many good times. But behind my cheerful façade I was hurting every day. I bore it…and bore it…and bore it for twenty-eight years until one day I could bear it no more. At fifty, my life went to pieces.
I shook off my demons, fuelled myself with courage and swallowed my nervousness to emerge from my cocoon. There were many who thought I was crazy to chuck it all; the wealth, the status and the security. Girlfriends told me I should have stayed on in my empty shell of a marriage because a known devil is better than an unknown one. However, others told me they envied my second chance because even though they were not unhappy, they were just making compromises in their own relationships.
Staying on in India was not unpleasant but was tricky. Especially in a small town. When I was ready to move on and find someone, it was difficult. First of all, I hardly came across eligible single men and secondly, in my small town, if I did manage to go on a date, I always felt I was not alone in the room and there were too many prying eyes. Also, I couldn’t afford my previous lifestyle because while I married well, I divorced badly. After all, Indian divorce law mainly favours women if it is a criminal case. My friends were very generous but I couldn’t keep accepting their help before I started feeling like a poor relation.
Inspite of my divorce woes, I continued to have a strong bond with my in-laws. If my mother-in-law needed any help or medical care, I rushed to her aid. I’d been married 28 years and been single in my own family for only 23 years. So moving on was more difficult. After two years of struggling financially and being torn emotionally, I knew I needed to leave.
It was goodbye India, hello America.
Coming to the US was a different kind of eye-opener. Divorce was no longer the stigma. Nor was the lack of means an issue. I found a job, for the first time in my life, thanks to friends in India. As a Patel, my entire family is in North America so I didn’t lack company, but living alone after my life as a pampered memsahib was a challenge. Moving from a huge bungalow to a studio needed a mental shift. I remember friends in India horrified that I drive my own car or wash my own bathrooms. But humans are nothing if not adaptable. And I adapted. I learnt to file tax returns, I paid bills, I balanced accounts, I learnt how to create excel documents, I learnt how to make power point slides, despite not having done any of this in my other life.
I was proud of my progress but I did face another challenge. I had naively believed fellow Indians in New York would embrace me. Instead, I was not easily accepted. No one knew about my previous life of privilege because I didn’t care to share it. I wanted to be accepted for who I was now and not for who I was before. I decided to host my first dinner party, and invited new acquaintances. But shockingly, many of the seemingly nice desi invitees didn’t show up. The ones who came were my new non-desi friends, my family and old friends from India. That’s when I realized that for South Asians, all that matters is who you are, where you come from and what class you represent. When I spoke to friends in India, they pointed out a similar elitist attitude there. I’d been blind to it since I hadn’t needed to be admitted into a clique in my previous life. I shrugged off this experience and decided if these desi’s didn’t want me, I’ll make other friends. And I did. In my building. In my neighbourhood. And my tribe grew.
Slowly life changed. I gained confidence about living alone. I felt empowered and in control of my life. I was no longer just someone’s daughter, someone’s mother, someone’s wife or someone’s daughter-in-law. I even asked the US passport office if I could drop my last name and just be known as Monique. Unfortunately, the logistics were daunting. Maybe I’ll revisit it some time in the future!
There were still hoops I needed to jump over. Like dating again. I TRIED. I was on loads of apps but no one appealed to me. I got off them assuming if I was meant to be with someone, it would happen organically. My American friends encouraged me to go to bars and chat up men or take solo holidays. I just couldn’t. I worried people would think, ‘poor thing.’ My other stumbling block was money. I was a Magna cum Laude, Phi Beta Kappa in finance, but not ever having taken care of myself financially, I was nervous. I had to learn to live within my means. Even asking for a raise was something I just couldn’t bring myself to do.
And then a miracle happened. EkWomen.
So much of the reason for this platform has to do with women like me. Outwardly confident, in charge of their lives but still hesitant. Still unsure about the future. As my colleagues and I brainstormed this new world and as I met more women like me, I realized how powerful a sisterhood this can be. I realized I had also made judgements about the Indian community. The ones who shunned me were an aberration. There are so many other awesome women, who reached out and embraced me. We can help each other. We can support each other. We can rally around each other. I was pushed beyond my comfort zone.. I no longer hid behind a façade. I even asked for a raise. And got it! Everything is possible when you believe in yourself. And that’s when the change begins.
I’m 58 and living my best life ever. I now encourage women to walk out of bad marriages. Why be unhappily married instead of being happily unmarried! Our interviewees have diverse stories. Some have struggled more than others. But they are all successful in their chosen fields. At EkWomen, our intention is to share these inspiring stories. There is enough trauma in the world, why not share positivity instead? So welcome to this platform. Welcome to finding your tribe. Welcome to a new way of life.
Oh and I have a boyfriend. Found him on a dating app. Found him after I realized it isn’t about finding the perfect man. It’s about finding someone who cares about who you are, accepting your flaws and fabulousness.
In the words of novelist, Sarah Addison Allen, ‘We’re connected, as women. It’s like a spiderweb. If one part of that web vibrates, if there’s trouble, we all know it, but most of the time we’re just too scared, or selfish, or insecure to help. But if we don’t help each other, who will?’
Let’s do that together. As one. As EkWomen.
