Daughter or Beta?

For all of you who don’t speak Urdu, “beta” means son.

Throughout my life, my Abbu (father) has always called me “beta.” As a child, I used to try to rationalize why he called me “son.” As an adult, I finally understand: Abbu hoped this word would encourage me to never aim for less than my potential just because I’m a girl.

In Pakistan, girls have different opportunities than boys, and these differences are evident in the way society speaks to girls: “girls shouldn’t talk so much,” “don’t try to act so smart,” “men don’t like girls that are smarter than them.” These are all messages I’ve actually received. When I got into my Master’s program, an uncle advised my mom to think clearly before giving me the permission to attend because “no boy was going to want to marry a girl that was more educated than them.”

Although there seems to be a shift in the right direction now in bigger cities in Pakistan, many members of the older generation retain a specific way of thinking: betas grow up to be the providers, and betis (daughters) grow up to be wives.

My parents moved our family to the United States to shed us of these societal constructs. They wanted to provide all their “betas” with the opportunities they didn’t believe we could have in Pakistan because gender biases have become ingrained in societal norms there.

I’m so lucky that my parents never let me believe that I couldn’t accomplish everything my brothers could just because of gender differences. They created a world for me where I never had to second guess what I could or couldn’t do just because I’m a girl. They created and raised us on an equal playing field: we were all their betas.