Alhamdulillah! I just completed the decoration and setup for my bridal makeover and beauty care salon in New York City.

I took a selfie a little while ago. Usually, I take a lot of photos, but today, as I was taking this selfie, tears started flowing from my eyes. I cried for a long time. But I couldn’t understand why or what exactly I was crying about. I am the first child of my parents, so I was the most cherished by everyone. My father would always say to me, “My little angel, take care.” Back then, our family had a lot of influence in the city of Barisal. I never lacked anything as a child. Invitations to dinners were frequent, and we had to attend them because without us, no gathering was complete. There were days when we attended four parties in one day, just to say hello.

Suddenly, my father passed away and left us. He was with us for as long as Allah had destined. There are many complaints in my heart about that little girl of my father’s, but who do I share them with? And my father didn’t just leave us; he also took the love and respect of those who once adored us. That day, I realized that all the love we received was tied to my father, along with many self-interests. Two months after my father’s death, one of my relatives had a wedding. We were very close, but I wasn’t invited to the wedding. Those relatives who attended began calling my mother, asking why we weren’t there, whether we were in Barisal, and so on. That night, I sat and watched my mother cry with a pure heart. You may think that I was crying because I wasn’t invited, but it wasn’t about the invitation. The whole family was celebrating together, while me, my mother, and my younger brother were sitting in a corner of the house. I wanted to scream and say, “Father, please look from above. All the people you did so much for are now abandoning us.”

My father left behind a lot for us, especially my grandfather’s property, but it was all unorganized. Who could have known that he would leave us so suddenly? My grandfather’s property was to be shared by my uncles and aunts. My mother got married at a very young age and never had the opportunity to study. I became their responsibility. My mother is very innocent and doesn’t understand much about the world. She never had the courage to speak up for herself or ask my father’s side of the family for the little share that was rightfully ours. Back then, I was very young, and my younger brother was even smaller. Our education expenses were always calculated down to the last penny and handed over to my mother. So, when I wanted something, I wouldn’t ask so that my brother could have what he wanted. I didn’t mind if I got a little less.

After my father’s passing, proposals started coming in. This relative brought one proposal, and another brought another. That’s when I first raised my voice, saying, “I may be young, and my father may have passed away, but my father’s dreams didn’t die!” That day, my relatives made a big deal out of it. They started talking behind my back, saying I would never amount to anything. From then on, rumors spread about me—saying I was always hanging out with boys, my circle of friends wasn’t good, I didn’t observe purdah, and so on. People said that girls must be involved in relationships if they turn down such good proposals. And so, the accusations began pouring in. But I didn’t realize that by raising my voice, this is how everyone would react. My mother, after hearing all the accusations, asked me, “Touch me and tell me, is any of this true?” I touched my mother and said, “No, Mom, all of this is a lie. I don’t go anywhere except for school and home.” I then hugged her and started crying with her. After that day, my mother started going with me to coaching classes regularly, but when she came back, she had to cook for everyone at home. It became very hard for her, and at times, I felt like I was a burden to everyone, as if everything was my fault. Days went by like this, and then one day, my grandfather fell ill. From then on, my mother stopped going with me to coaching classes because she had to take care of him.

That’s when I started walking alone. One of my friends told me she was teaching students, and I asked her if she could find me one too. I ended up finding two students, and I was paid very little. I didn’t enjoy going to coaching classes, so I started studying on my own. But at home, I was expected to go to coaching, so I used to secretly teach students during that time, saving the money to take my younger brother out or buy him something. I couldn’t give him the same affection that my father gave me, but I tried my best so that he wouldn’t have any regrets. As my expenses increased, I started using mobile data to access Facebook, and this continued for three months. One day, I met my teacher at the market, and he asked why I wasn’t coming to class. Anyone who has faced such a situation knows what happened next. That night, there was a family judgment, and since I wasn’t attending coaching, I couldn’t speak back. My coaching classes were canceled, and I was told I didn’t need to go anymore. So, it was just school and home from then on. 

At school, I was very popular for dancing. I had even won a national award in dance when I was in class three. Since then, I loved styling myself and helping others style too, especially the girls, because I was good at it. One of my distant cousins had planned to hire an artist from Dhaka for her wedding. At that time, no one in Barisal knew what a freelance makeup artist was, but at the last minute, she couldn’t hire the Dhaka artist. She called me, sounding sad, and told me that her family was spending a lot on the wedding, but they wouldn’t pay much for the makeup. She liked my style, so she asked me to do her makeup. I hesitated and asked, “Are you sure you want me to do your makeup for such a big wedding?” She said yes, and so I did it. I was scared because I wasn’t sure how the makeup would turn out, but when my mother forced me to go, everyone praised my work. After that, many of her friends came to me for makeup. At first, I only charged 2,000 taka. 

But this created problems at home. When I told my family that I was doing makeup professionally, I was ridiculed. They said I was working at a parlor, but I stood my ground and said, “Yes, I work at a parlor, and so what? People who work at parlors are just like anyone else. They have families to take care of.” That day, they scolded me harshly, saying I would bring shame to the family. I was determined! I started working as a freelance makeup artist. Back then, no one in Barisal knew what it meant, but now, many girls are working as freelance makeup artists, and I am proud of that. Since weddings often took place in the afternoon, I used to take a break from school, carry my makeup kit with me, and go directly to clients’ homes. I would return home during school breaks. Soon, word spread at home, and one day, I realized that if they came to confront me, I wouldn’t back down. So, they started scolding my mother. I saw my mother’s innocent tears so many times, and it made me even more determined. I built myself up not as a woman, but as a human being. After that, I started taking pride in my work. 

The number of brides increased, and my reputation spread throughout Barisal, then across the country. I began contributing financially to my family. Now, everyone in my family was proud of me and would introduce me to others. But on that day, I remembered my father and thought to myself, "Dad, the pain I felt losing you is nothing compared to the pain of surviving in this world after your departure."

I started uploading bridal transformation videos and blogging. Soon, I went viral. Clients from Dhaka started contacting me. But since I didn’t want to stay at anyone’s house in Dhaka, I would finish work in Barisal, then take a night boat to Dhaka, do another round of work, and return to Barisal the next day. During this journey, I heard a lot of talk, but no one dared to harass me because my eyes told them that I wouldn’t back down. Whether at home or outside, I wouldn’t let anyone push me around. As my clients from Dhaka increased, so did the budgets. I was studying for my BBA while also working, and it was a tough time.

Eventually, I rented a small apartment in Bashundhara and set up a studio. The landlord and his family were great, and they regularly followed my blog. But there were so many clients that complaints started coming from the neighboring house. I eventually had to move to a bigger place. I gave the building caretaker a nice tip, and the complaints stopped. Gradually, I built up Rojaz Bridal. I had clients from Barisal to Dhaka and even started traveling by flight. Sometimes, I would work in Barisal in the morning and then fly to Dhaka for another client. This was all possible because I was driven. The women in this industry were often overlooked, and I didn’t want anyone to experience the things I had heard about myself. So,