“Mardom Chi Mega?” - An Afghan Mother’s Journey Raising an Autistic Daughter in Denmark

How it started

I clearly remember how it took me more than an hour to put our baby girl to sleep, only for her to sleep for 30 minutes. Those were my days until she was 9 months old and started daycare. Even then, I expressed my concern and told them that she was overly loud, to which I was assured that “she is very strong-willed and passionate about her cause” and that “you must always support her strong-willed spirit.” So I did support her strong-willed spirit.

Meanwhile, I saw and experienced my friends’ newborn babies and toddlers being very different from our girl. I could not stop comparing, even though I hated myself for it.

In kindergarten, she slowly started to drift away into her own little universe. It was almost as if she were deaf, but we all knew that she was selective in her hearing and only heard what made sense to her. Even then, nobody listened, and the “system” simply rejected our call for some type of awareness and education. We were considered two young parents who took every small detail a bit too seriously.

In school, we were fortunate that she only attended preschool before corona arrived. We had a good and cozy 1.5 years together at home with no stress, no extra load, and just the four of us.

It all escalated and got a lot worse when she started 2nd grade. She would have extreme meltdowns “just” because her pencil fell down. That was when I knew that we had to take her out of school and that her brain was wired much differently than the rest of us, a decision I am very proud of taking as a mother. I removed the extra load and gave her the space she needed.

That was when I knew that I was all by myself on this journey. Even for my husband, all of this seemed off and did not make sense. He got an extreme surprise when our daughter received her diagnoses later: Autism and ADHD. That was when I realized that it could take one parent a second to understand and accept, and another parent more than a year to accept the reality.

Present day

Three years later, we are proud parents of two extremely strong daughters. One has two diagnoses and a sense of justice unlike anything I have experienced in my entire life. The other has a heart full of love and acceptance for the differences in human beings.

We have days and nights filled with meltdowns and a crying daughter. We are two parents who feel helpless and, at times, pretty useless. No amount of love, acceptance, and respect for her meltdowns, feelings, and thoughts can help her situation.

This is the most hurtful part of being a parent to an autistic child: witnessing the extreme levels of meltdowns, watching your child drift away, and not being able to do anything. The extreme panic attacks, the extreme anxiety attacks, the hyperventilation. Day in and day out, we witness it all and try our best to stay calm, listen, understand, and help if possible.

The Afghan Culture & Societies

As for the Afghan community in Denmark, I have realized that our community has little to almost no awareness of this. Whenever people ask questions or make comments, they are mostly judgmental rather than understanding.

As an Afghan mother, I am often asked whether I have spoken to some scholar-type person, to which I must disappoint them and explain that they actually do not know much about this and can sometimes be just as judgmental and uneducated as the rest of us.

For years, I have tried to explain our situation in order to create awareness, but nobody really listens. I can count on my fingers the fewer than 20 Afghan friends, family members, and relatives who actually try to listen and understand with their ears and hearts open.

More often, fellow Afghans ask questions only so they can say something “smart” and ask me whether I have tried “this or that,” as if the parenting and upbringing are being done incorrectly by us. Some have even commented that I should be careful not to make my daughter feel like “she cannot do certain things” and that perhaps I should challenge her more.

I understand that this can come from a good place. However, nobody wants to disable their own child on purpose. I always have to remind them that we have two daughters, and they are, well, VERY different from each other.

Therefore, I have simply given up. I refuse to waste my words, my energy, and my knowledge on people who do not want to listen but instead choose to judge and feel superior or smarter.

And yet, here I am again, with lots of hope.

These days, I spot young autistic children at different parties and events, only to shake my head and move on because I know that the parents may never come to terms with the fact that their child is nuero-divergent in one way or another.

Unfortunately, many of our Afghans choose to let their children suffer for a lifetime rather than seeking knowledge, helping their children understand themselves, and helping them discover their strengths in life. All of this because “mardom chi mega” - what will people say or think.

It makes me so proud to see that many Afghans in North America have evolved beyond that mindset.

I dream and hope for an Afghan society in Denmark where people are more educated and aware of disorders such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, ADHD, autism, and others. This way, they can stop themselves from asking unethical, unreasonable, unintelligent, and disrespectful questions without ever wanting to listen to the answers.

Moreover, I am extremely tired of fellow Afghans saying, “We are all a little ADHD/autistic.”

No, honey, your world does not suddenly go dark and give you the urge to throw tables and chairs in the air because your pencil falls down for a moment.

We are yet to find our small Afghan-autism community here in Denmark. A community that chooses education over silence and respect over judgment.

Lots of hope and love,
Muskaan