Marketed Knowledge

A Story by egg13

A fictional memoir.

Mine is not a story of despair and disappointment. Not the kind that you are used to. THe kind that you fell asleep to when you were younger... Not the kind that gives you a happily ever after to hold on to. Not the kind that objectifies women while subconsciously poisoning your brain with the message that happiness lies only within the affection of a man, that if you try hard enough, you might someday deserve. Not the kind that Hollywood sells you over and over again and yet you somehow keep watching, mesmerized, brainwashed.

It is a story of hate of crime and consequences. It is one of circumstance, decisions and deathly mistakes. It is one of backstabbing. One that has no beginning and and no happy ending that you can count on. My story is still alive, still breathing. It is a story that will not end once you are sound asleep with a smile of ignorance on your face.

I was born in Somalia in 1969. In 1971 I was circumcised. Married in 1982 and with two children in 1984. Don't dare thinking that I am begging for your pity. It isn't. It is not uncommon, extraordinary. It's not my bad luck. I was lucky. I was living a normal, respectable life. I was happy too, because I obeyed. Never had I questions, I had my daughter "dignified" too. I was born too a holy religion of pain, a holy sex of agony, which I respected. For, it was my identity. The tranquility of conformity and ignorance relieved my pain. Obedience meant respect , so I obeyed. I obeyed my man. I obeyed my family. And I obeyed my religion. Until I discovered how beautiful it was and witnessed how much the ugly, sinful, cunning human mind had twisted it. And when I did find out, I became the "Satan". Stoned.

I read. I knew and I ran away.

"Mom?"

"Yes honey?"

Honey... A word I'd never understood. Objectifying. Simplifying. Degrading. And old habit of conformity had carved for it a a place in my vocabulary.

"I'm not going to school today. None of my friends are going."

Little as he was, he too was a man. His mind fed and grew on the knowledge that he was the superior species. Born to be obeyed. I was not his mother.

"Why not? I don't want you missing out on school."

What did I know? I'd never been.

"But mom!"

Not his mother.

"It is not an argument. I will brush your hair."

He hated me. I knew. I hated myself too. For never having cared. For having questioned. For having escaped.

I had fled to a a new identity. I was a western woman possessed by eastern mentality that had scarred me physically and spiritually.

The west sells inspiration. It sells knowledge. Advertises dreams. I had fallen into it's marketing scheme. The east wants you to ignore and obey. The west wants you to know, or think you know, only in a way that will suck more money out of you.

You are inspired everyday with stories of success. Of stories of escape... Of my story.

I tell you my story.

You listen. On television. On the internet. You shed tears for me. You are inspired by me. You don't know that what I tell you has never been what it was. It is what your mind so blindly craves that comes out of my mouth. The same things every interview, every speech. Memorized.

I escaped a world of ignorance to run to a much more dangerous one. One of advertised, marketed, commercialized ignorance. You, the western man, can only know as much as you can afford, and as much as you should.

I had an escape. Do you?