The worlds of the two sisters were now defined by their classrooms.
Asha’s classroom was a battleground of ideas. Gunnar did not lecture; he provoked. He would stride around the room, a bear in a woolen sweater, poking holes in his students' comfortable assumptions. This week, the topic was cultural relativism, the idea that one culture cannot legitimately judge the practices of another.
“A lovely, progressive idea,” Gunnar began, a dangerous glint in his eye. “It is born from a noble desire to avoid the arrogance of colonialism. Very good. But where does it end?” He pointed a thick finger at the German student from the previous seminar. “You. Your grandfather’s generation. They had a ‘cultural practice’ of genocide. Do we refrain from judging that? Do we say, ‘Oh, that’s just their way’?”
The student flushed. “Of course not. That’s different. That violated fundamental human rights.”
“Aha!” Gunnar roared, slamming his hand on a desk, making everyone jump. “So there is a line. And who draws it? Does the right to be free from torture apply only to Europeans? Is a little girl’s body in Somalia less deserving of that fundamental right than a person’s body in Berlin?” He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. “To see torture and call it ‘culture’ is the last refuge of a moral coward. Your job as thinkers is not to be polite. It is to find the line, and to defend it with your lives if necessary.”
Asha listened, a fire igniting in her chest. He was giving her the words. He was giving her the weapons.
Deeqa’s classroom had no books. Her classroom was the kitchen, the courtyard, the space around the cooking fire. Her teachers were her mother-in-law, a stern, watchful woman named Faduma, and the chorus of aunts and elder women who drifted in and out of the compound. Her lessons were not in critical thinking, but in the art of becoming invisible.
“A good wife’s voice is never heard above her husband’s,” Faduma instructed one afternoon, watching Deeqa grind spices. “When he is speaking with other men, you are a shadow. You bring the tea, and you disappear. Your opinions are for the kitchen, with us.”
The lessons were constant, delivered in a stream of gentle corrections and proverbs as old as the dust.
“A husband’s anger is a fire that a wife must learn to dampen, not fuel with the wind of her own words.”
“A woman’s beauty is in her modesty. A woman’s strength is in her silence.”
“Do not trouble your husband with your small pains. His burdens are greater. Your job is to be his comfort, his soft place to land.”
Each lesson was a bar being forged. Deeqa, the dutiful student, learned to lower her eyes, to quiet her footsteps, to anticipate a need before it was spoken, to swallow her frustrations and her pains as if they were a bitter medicine she was required to take. She was learning the intricate architecture of her own cage, not how to escape it, but how to decorate it, how to make it a home. She was praised for her quick learning, for her quiet grace. She was becoming, day by day, the perfect wife. She was becoming a ghost in her own life.
Section 7.1: Education as Liberation vs. Education as Indoctrination
The parallel classrooms of Asha and Deeqa reveal the two fundamental, opposing purposes of education. One is a tool of liberation; the other is a tool of social control.
Asha’s Classroom: Education as Liberation. The mode of education practiced by Gunnar is Socratic. Its goal is not to transmit a set of received truths, but to provide students with the critical tools to dismantle arguments, question authority, and arrive at their own ethical conclusions. Key features of this model are:
It prioritizes critical thinking over rote memorization.
It teaches students how to think, not what to think.
It is inherently disruptive to established power structures. A populace that can think critically is a populace that will not blindly accept injustice in the name of "tradition" or "the way things are."
This form of education is a direct threat to a patriarchal system. It is designed to create individuals who can recognize a cage, even if it is presented as a sanctuary. Gunnar’s lesson is not just about FGM; it is a universal lesson in identifying and defending the line between cultural practice and human rights abuse. He is arming his students with intellectual ammunition.
Deeqa’s Classroom: Education as Indoctrination. Deeqa’s "education" at the hands of her mother-in-law is the exact opposite. Its sole purpose is to reinforce the existing social hierarchy and her subordinate place within it. Key features of this model are:
It prioritizes obedience over critical thinking.
It teaches what to think (and what not to say).
It is essential for the preservation of an unjust power structure.
This indoctrination is the psychological component of FGM. The physical cutting is designed to control a woman’s body and sexuality. The social indoctrination Deeqa receives is designed to control her mind and her voice. The lessons she learns—to be silent, to be accommodating, to erase her own needs—are the software that is meant to run on the hardware of her mutilated body. The two are parts of a single, integrated system of control.
A woman who has been physically cut but who has not been successfully indoctrinated is still a threat to the system. A woman who is physically whole but who has been successfully indoctrinated may still uphold it. For the patriarchal system to be truly effective, it requires both the physical blade and the psychological cage. Asha has escaped both. Deeqa is trapped in both.