While our paths are varied, our experiences, and especially how we felt about them then, and now, are more similar than not. Stories told by women who lived through the same last fifty years as you have the power to connect, to our inner self and to each other. This connection is healing and loving, nurturing and empowering.
Stories bring us together. They make us more resilient.
We are a sisterhood with so many stories and so much experience. We have lived and learned. Our stories matter. At StorySistas the voices of women 50+ are gifts that are heard and celebrated.
After fifty I became aware of the story I told myself, and it was not pretty. I go back and reimagine my past with what I know today. See the past with the dual lens of then and now, see who I was, who I am today and who I will become. So I may grow.
Today I appreciate friends more than ever. Especially women friends. There are an understanding and empathy which feels like home. We can sense each other’s journeys. When we share our stories, it is joyful and exciting. Even the sad stories, they are triumphant, for we have overcome. And we continue to grow. Our time is priceless, we make choices, do the things that enrich our lives. Develop connections and friendships, now.
It is my hope that the stories here connect with you. So wherever you are. And that you will share your voice, your story, here at StorySistas.
My father, Omar Zubedy, 1956
Meet my father. He was a teenager
He was married to my mother for 48 years, half of that time he had another woman. He was also the goalkeeper of the state soccer team. When friends and relatives needed work he would help them get interviews.
He himself did not take advantage of friends in high places. He was offered a gas station and good jobs, but no, none of that grownup stuff for him. He was a star on a Vespa.
Meet my mother. There is something childlike and vulnerable about her that men, women, and
children, want to care and protect her. That’s how compelling she is, still is, and I am blessed to have her in my life.
She was 19 when she left her home, her friends and family in Indonesia, crossed the Straits of Malacca to Malaysia, to marry my father. Nine months later I was born.
When I was almost 3 and she was pregnant with my sister, my mother found out about the
other woman. She said to me: “I am not well, you are a big girl, you are a good girl, help take care of me.”
My mother, Zahra Zubedy, 1956
The Chinese character for filial piety
This is the Chinese character for filial piety, the virtue of respect for your elders. It depicts a child carrying an elder with long hair.
An early version
This is an early version of the character and how I must have felt when I was 3.
Penang Soccer Team circa 1950
The team with the first Chief Minister of Malaya, Tunku Abd. Rahman. Can you spot my father?
My mother when she turned 82. I love her with all my heart. What is your story? Share your Story.
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