When I lived in Saudi Arabia, I was ‘wife of Dr. Khalid Rehman.’ Although everyone called me Sabeeha, this was my official name; my official identity–on paper.
“What is your son’s name, a Saudi woman once asked me.”
“Saqib.”
“Ah! Then your name is ‘Umm Saqib,’ she said. Translated: Mother of Saqib.
Now, I am proud to be Khalid’s wife, and proud to be Saqib’s mother; but Sabeeha exists too.
When I lived in Pakistan, I was Miss Sabeeha Akbar. Miss conferred the ‘unmarried’ status on me, but also my virginal status. A divorcee or widow was not a Miss. Sabeeha, of course was my name, and Akbar was my father’s last name.
Then I got married. Now I was to be a Mrs. Mrs. meant married. Mrs also meant: divorced, or widowed. As I applied for a passport—I was to accompany my husband to America—I gleefully put my name down as Sabeeha Rehman. Note that a passport does not require an honorific. Overnight, my last name flipped from Akbar to Rehman, not because it was the Islamic way, but because it was the British way. Pakistan had been a British colony, and their legacy of a woman taking her husband’s name, still endured.
When I first came to America, I was told by Miss Etiquette—she could have been a Mrs.—that I should refer to myself as Mrs. Khalid Rehman, not as Sabeeha Rehman. She explained that Mrs. means: Wife of. Taking it as a learning opportunity, I adopted my new name. I figured that this was the American way, so do in America as the Americans do. As the editor of the mosque’s newsletter, Al-Majlis, I was Mrs. Khalid Rehman. People asked me, ‘Why don’t you use your first name?” With an air of confidence, I rattled off Miss Etiquette’s pronouncement.
Then I started working. By then, Ms. had made her debut. On my first day on the job, my boss asked me, “Sabeeha, I am sending out your announcement. How would you liked to be called? Miss, Mrs., Ms.?”
I have a choice!
“Ms.,” I said.
So Ms. Sabeeha Rehman it was.
A few months later I was back in his office.
“I want to change my name,” I announced.
“What is it going to be?”
“Mrs. Sabeeha Rehman. I want people to know I am a married woman.”
He looked up at me, nodded, and said: “I’ll make the change.”
Why had I first picked Ms. and then Mrs.? I have no idea. Perhaps the whole honorific business confused me.
One of my colleagues asked me, “What does your husband have to say about you switching from Mrs. to Ms. to Mrs.?”
I actually went back and asked him, “So what do you think?”
“As long as I can call you Bia.” (that is my nickname).
It gets better. Years later I got religion, and started studying the Quran.
Whoa!
It said: ‘Call the child by their father’s name.’
Is that what I am reading? That a woman should keep her maiden name even after marriage?
I called a few ‘learned’ people, and sure enough. I asked my parents: “Did you know that according to the Quran, I was not supposed to change my maiden name?” Mummy didn’t, but Daddy did.
“Do Pakistanis know that giving up your maiden name and taking your husband’s name is the British way and not the Islamic way?” I asked.
I got my answer a few years later, when an extended family member introduced their new daughter-in-law by her husband’s last name. Privately, I took the liberty to tell the very conservative mother-in-law that the Islamic way is for her daughter-in-law to keep her father’s name.
“It’s our tradition,” said. “Our daughters-in-law take on our family name.”
Classic conflict between God’s command and tradition. Certainly fits in with the norms of a patriarchal society.
But going back to Saudi Arabia, I had also noticed that the female staff at the hospital I worked at, referred to themselves by their maiden names—the married women, that is. On official documents such as passport, they were ‘Wife Of;’ but in day-to-day communications, they were ‘Daughter of,’ with Dad’s name. Had I been Saudi, I would be Sabeeha Akbar.
The world moves on, and now I hear introductions such as ‘he/him’, she/her, and now Mx.
A piece in the New York Times today piqued my interest: ‘Examining the Meaning of Mrs.’ On Sunday, the Times will publish Mrs. Files, examining how honorifics mean for us as a society, and how they help women shape their identity.
As for me, just call me Sabeeha.
PS: Interested in knowing more about the Saudi culture through my eyes? Do read my new book (below): It’s Not What You Think.
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