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LIsten to Malika's essay.
A small village in Uzbekistan, where people treasured their traditions and held high aspirations. This was where my mom was hurried to the hospital on a snowy, windswept night with an overdue baby. The midwife at the first hospital looked at my mother with big, open eyes and shook her hand, urging her to leave immediately and go to another hospital because they were afraid of how to help deliver a large baby. When she arrived at another hospital, the only available midwife was a bald old man shouting, "HURRY! THE BABY IS HERE!" I was born that freezing night with no warmth, dark blue lips, and a trembling body.
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My name is Malika. I come from a religiously strict household where everything is limited and under the control of adults, which means that children, even girls and women, have little voice in most decisions.
The place I’m from, people are trapped in old cultural thoughts. For instance, when women give birth, they can’t name their own child, which I believe is unfair. Women's furious tears stream down their faces as they realize they aren't allowed to name their own children. The in-laws are free to act in this way. When I was born, these old-school cultural rules still existed. My mother was devastated since I am her third child, and she expected my grandmother to give her the opportunity to name me, but she did not do so.
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My grandma named me after our relative Malika; she was a doctor. My grandma thought “my granddaughter will become a doctor if we name her after this relative." This thought is around in most families.
Girls in my hometown get married very young, around 18–20 years old. The old cultural thought is that ladies should pursue careers as doctors because they would be needed in the future, despite the fact that the majority of husbands are uneducated. They prefer female doctors because most women require medical attention, and husbands would not allow their wives to attend a hospital with a male doctor.
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I wanted to change my name. To me, it felt like my mom's rights were being taken away. I thought if I changed my name, it would show my grandma that she should not have followed the old-school cultural way and gave my mom the right she deserved. Everyone around me kept saying that I should study hard, get good grades, and become a doctor. I don’t understand why. To this day, I don’t want to become a doctor and go near blood. I just don’t feel it within me.
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As a third child, the expectations and pressure on me are very high. Well, of course I don't aim for disappointment, but I believe every child going into adulthood should be given a chance to make their own choices. I didn’t like being named after someone who made choices I didn’t want to follow.
I can’t say that I don’t like my name because I found out the meaning not long ago. I was hanging out with my friends. One of them asked, "What does your name mean?" I felt a bit shy and said, "I don't know." They looked it up. It meant "princess" in Arabic. Their eyes lit up with happiness. "That's so pretty!" they said.
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At that moment, I realized something important. Maybe I could see my name as something special instead of something heavy to carry. All my life, I’ve thought I had to follow someone else's decisions. But just seeing people's reactions to my name brought me strength and feelings that I had never felt before. I started to imagine myself if no one had ever expected anything from me.
As I studied, I realized that my path to the future had to include being a businesswoman. When my grandmother calls, she asks how my studies to be a doctor are doing, and when I tell her I'm aiming for a new career choice, she doesn't seem excited. At least my grandma will realize in the end that not all girls have to be doctors and that I'm content with my own decisions, even though she is not thrilled that I'm defying the "all girls must be doctors" rules.
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As I stand between history and aspiration, I’ve felt the weight of my name transform into hope. I made it clear in every discussion about my future plans that I wanted to break free from the limitations that were imposed by my past and become a successful businesswoman. My grandmother's displeasure served as a reminder of old cultural boundaries, but my friends' excitement over the meaning of "Malika" kindled a fire in me. I realized I could rework my story so that I accepted my identity while also honoring my mother's unmet goals. It will be a difficult route, but the beauty of my name gave me courage. I will no longer try to be a simple echo of others' choices; instead, I will write my own story. And I hope that one day my journey will inspire other girls like me to step up and reclaim their voices in a world desperate for change.
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Malika Bahronova is a full time accountant major at City Tech. An outgoing and hard working person, Malika is currently aiming to get her real estate license.