And as the fate would have it, I was born a girl.
I held on to my mother’s fingers for a little longer. I wanted to be hugged by her, to be fed by her, to be cuddled like baby boys are when they are born. But deep inside I was resigned. I let go of her fingers and tore my gaze away from her face as she wrapped me in a tattered blanket and handed me to the widow. I did not cry.