Sometimes, when a person dies, you think how sad and go on about your business… not today. Today a Very Brave Woman died, and I can’t help wishing I had known more about her. Here, in a letter, is what I wish I had said to her, what I wish I could have asked her.
Dear Ms. Bhutto,
I hope you will forgive my writing, I know you are very busy.
I really want to tell you how much you inspire me, though I am a very shy, stay-at-home mother of two in a different country and you are a very public, very strong political figure.
I remember when you were first elected Prime Minister of Pakistan. I thought it was such a milestone, such a gift you gave to women all over the world. Even in my own nation, supposedly one of the more enlightened democracies, a woman has never held so much power — or been so influential. It made me feel that being a woman did not have to define my goals, that I could really choose the life that I wanted. No limits. And I did, choosing to stay home with my children, but knowing that I could also be involved and competent in other areas when and if I desire.
And I remember when you were banished from your homeland after the coup. I was devastated for you… what was it like, to be told you could never go home? My own life centers around the small yard and home we live in, what would it be like, the first spring you don’t see the bulbs you planted grow up… to miss the beauty of the bare branches as the leaves fall in autumn? How did it feel, to be told that you had somehow been bad for the country you obviously cherished?
Recently I watched you on television, being interviewed, wondering how you managed to survive in such a strange place, where your religion was not understood, where the foods you loved must have been difficult to find, where the familiar comforting sounds of your language were not heard. And still, you were a voice for the people of your country, expressing a desire to return to your home, to invite a conversation with the people and the government to return toward a more democratic, inclusive government.
And then, with pride and fear, I watched your return home, surrounded by hundreds of people who loved you and wanted you to resume your role as a political leader. I knew there were also many who reviled you and wanted you gone. I was shocked when you were nearly killed during the march, so glad you had been inside your van… and sad for the people who died, merely for being near the person they adored. I was proud again and hopeful, when even under house arrest you stood up with a megaphone and let your supporters (and the world) know that you would not be silenced.
How do you do these things? How do you place yourself in danger, knowing that you could be placed under arrest again, or sent to prison, or banished… or worse? How do you keep advocating for change when “the powers that be” are so against it? What gives you the strength to be parted from friends and family as you attend to the politics and business?
Would you choose this way of life again, if you had to do it over? Would you be strong and public, or would you choose a quieter life — in academia or as a housewife, as I have?
What is your greatest dream for your country? For your world?
I know you probably won’t have time to answer these things. But I hope you know that you are a hero to many, a role model for those of us around the world who see you as a light in the darkness, a woman who stands tall.
Thank you.
As you probably know, Benazir Bhutto was killed when, after a political rally just a couple weeks before Pakistan’s elections, she stood up in her car to greet the people who were lining the road as she drove off. Those who aren’t from the United States perhaps miss the parallel with John F. Kennedy’s assassination in 1963, when he was shot while riding in a convertible car with the top down. Both popular people, both capable of creating a great deal of controversy. Kennedy was killed before I was born. Ms. Bhutto during my maturity… both represent, for me, the hopes that the people hold for the future, an openness that is all-too-often-lacking in modern life.