I was shadowing a GP today and he asked me "so how many people in your family are medics?" (He didn't mean it in any arrogant way)
I was like "ummm... none"
"So you're the odd one out?"
I wrote this caption ages ago but I thought it was quite relevant so here's a repost 👇🏽
As a lot of people take excessive pride in their family background, wealth and status, I’d like to say that my parents have broken childhoods drenched in poverty. I don’t belong to a family of "doctors and lawyers" or highly educated, wealthy individuals. Education was not fundamental, survival was more important. I don’t belong to a family with luxurious houses of fancy architecture, of marble flooring, servants and drivers. Luxury for us was rain, cooling down the heat. I don’t belong to a family where Eid consists of chatter about designer clothing. We bought our own materials, made our own clothes, that was designer enough for us.
As much as I value what I have now, home will always be the two storey house made of mud bricks, laid by my great grandfather, which people of “high status” frown upon. The uneven doorsteps, the age-old door with a rattling chain, the clay pots and wells. Home will always be where “dirty, children of terrorists" play marbles and trade bubblegums. Home will always be where less is more.
And when I see how the poor are degraded, humiliated and victimised, my heart mourns for home. I identify with the poor more than anyone else because I know,
I know that if my mother did not study for a degree after marriage,
if my father did not fight and make sacrifices, despite the degradation underprivileged people face,
I, too, would have been the “illiterate, oppressed and unworthy” girl under a blue burqa,
with a life too cheap for anyone to care.
#prayforhome #prayforkabul #prayforsyria #prayforgaza #prayforiraq #prayforthepoor