Growing up, I would often hit a wall when I got to writing contest guidelines. Through citizenship, nationality or residence, they always excluded me.
This has been a sort of theme in my life. My geographical identity, or lack of: Do I have one? Is it okay to simply not have one? But in the last few years, after discovering fiction by South Asian authors, particularly Pakistan, I have been asking myself another question:
Is it possible to have multiple identities?
I grew up in Oman. It will be home in the kind of way no place else could be: the place that houses a middle school where you emptied the contents of a garbage bin into a bully’s bag for revenge. Multiple times. But I knew Oman was not the place for me by the time I was 13. It was too small, too quiet. I was already a writer, and it just didn’t inspire me. It was perfect for quiet afternoons at the beach – still is, as a matter of fact – but I wanted to do Parkour, learn all the swim strokes and three more languages – and do all of this on a student’s income. With no public transport, limited opportunities for education and women’s sports, I felt stuck.
Plus, there was the whole thing about the dreaded V word. Countries have visas so they don’t have to say, we don’t want you, please go back. Protecting their own people’s interests. But where was back for me? Whose people was I?
Long story short, I have been a nomad since I left Oman. Sometimes the places I land in feel like home; sometimes not so much. Then, two weeks ago, I moved to Pakistan. I’m still exploring tentatively. The culture shock hasn’t quite worn off, I am still surprised every time someone is nice to me (which is often), and I’m still figuring out anxiety, safety and independence in relation to one another.
I’ve known about the ZHR Writing Prize for a few years now. The competition is open to all women with Pakistani nationality or heritage, I remember reading on the website. It was the first time I’d fit into a contest criteria, especially one so narrow. It didn’t hurt that the contest is in memory of Zeenat Haroon Rashid, an icon for women’s empowerment at the time Pakistan was being founded.
Reading the past years’ winners and long list confirmed my hunch. It wasn’t just by Pakistanis writing about being Pakistani. Many contenders were Pakistanis living abroad, or Pakistanis unsure about their heritage, or simply writing about other important things like womanhood and climate change.
This seemed to be what I had been looking for all my life. I was convinced that writing for this would, at best, unlock a relationship with Pakistan I could never articulate or understand. At worst, it would be really neat to not be on the outside for once.
But somehow life always got in the way, and I kept missing the deadline. Oh well, I would think. Next year.
But I’m entering this time. If you are a woman of Pakistani heritage or nationality, you should too. This year’s contest is fiction, under 3000 words, and the subject is open as long as Pakistan is its canvas or location. It is accepting submissions until the 30th of June 2023. A single winner will be selected from a short list of 6, with a prize money of PKR 100,000. Read more about it here.
Written by : raaziasajid
raazia is looking for beta readers
are you interested in reading advance copies of raazia’s work and giving feedback? let her know!
