NON FICTION I PERSONAL ESSAY

Wounded People Wound People

To break this cycle, we must forgive

Damane Zehra
Human Parts
Published in
29 min readSep 30, 2024

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The baby me, captured by my father (Image by author)

Maybe I have too much time, or maybe I have been thinking about it too much lately.

My paternal family was very poor. My father was the oldest of eight siblings. In the village where he was born and raised, there was no emphasis on education, except for teaching the children about faith and religious history. The villagers were dedicated to praying five times a day and attending gatherings to learn about the Holy Quran, sunnah, shariah, fiqh, and Islamic law.

My great-grandfather lived in the house gifted by his in-laws all his life. He had a temper and a very dominating personality. My great-grandmother was a weak and innocent lady. He used to beat his wife regularly and had many issues with his in-laws. He passed away at the age of 90, and remarkably, he had been in great health until the day he died.

His wife was alive when he passed away, and even at that age, she was not spared from his beatings.

My grandfather had many children, most of whom died in infancy. My father was the eldest of the surviving siblings, with seven younger brothers and sisters. My grandmother was a very difficult woman, and although my grandfather never hit her, they engaged in daily

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Damane Zehra
Damane Zehra

Written by Damane Zehra

I was always an unusual girl. A cancer doctor from Pakistan. I write about my personal experiences and perspectives.

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