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Setting our daughters free

Sabhanaz Rashid Diya
31-year old Sabrina had put up her daughter's photo on Facebook, making a public announcement of the proud moment when she has been enrolled in school. She checked in at the school's address and while driving away at the back seat of her car, hastily responded to her friends' comments: "Oh ma! Ki shundor lagche tomar meye ke! Koto boro hoye giyeche!" ("Oh dear, your daughter looks so beautiful. She has grown so big.") Two months from her daughter's first day at school, Sabrina was found pulling strings and running between police stations, while her daughter was being trafficked to an unknown brothel. Someone has downloaded her photo and made some quick bucks.
As the bus screeched to a halt near Farmgate bus stand, 16-year old Roksana and her mother pushed through the crowd and got off hurriedly. She was already late for her coaching class and her mother's stern look reminder her to fix her hijab. The narrow alley that led to her class was often full of whistles and loud Hindi songs from local boys, many of whom were seniors in the same coaching centre. In her class, there were separate rows for boys and girls, however her mother feared a hormone-struck affair and needed to protect her daughter. Roksana hated themuffled mutterings and warnings under her mother's scarf, reminding her of her parents' hard earned money, their dreams of her becoming a doctor and how privileged she was to be able to pursue an education in a country where girls of her age are married off. Her shroud will protect her from the whistles and adolescence romance; she needed to stay focused to make it to a public medical college where hundreds of thousands like her were competing. The world is a rat race.
As development practitioners, our professional roles require us to talk about policies. Unfortunately, our personal lives revolve around the aforementioned occurrences. My parents had a strict upbringing policy as well, however it was one that measured our worth against our interests instead of achievements. We had to excel in school, but never for once were we asked to compare ourselves against statistics or lower our head when crossing the road in front of our male counterparts. I was enrolled into karate class at school, my sister learnt judo. We dressed moderately and walked on the pavements with pride. In one particular incident, my mother grabbed a local shopkeeper by his collar for attempting to grab my bottom, and made him apologise.
In a closed survey I came across a few weeks back, I read about how girls in average Bangladeshi families do
not get to choose who they marry or for how long they will be educated. They have the least say in household decisions. I don't beg to differ — these are true stories. My concern comes with parents and what role they can play, on an individual level, on raising their daughters to become more informed and more influential. Our socioeconomic context makes us either become charitable to the ultra poor or insulting to the ultra rich, creating a void when it comes to speaking out for the middle class. The middle class girls that are neither too poor to be enrolled in an NGO programme nor too rich to afford a foreign education. These are the daughters who can become decision makers, because they are educated. These are the daughters we shroud from watchful eveteasers, because we worked hard to raise them. These are the daughters jump off the roof without ever making it to news. These are the daughters whose lives are heavily determined by their parents.
Against the backdrops of statistics, social media carnivals and public policies, let us teach our daughters of their rights in this world. In their best interests, teach them to be compassionate and courageous - instead of mere trophies. Let us set our daughters free.
The writer Is a mother and social entrepreneur based in Bangladesh. She Is the founder of the non-profit One Degree Initiative Foundation.