The Inheritance of Survival
By Maryam Iftikhar
I carry my instinct like an inheritance.
Etched into bone, passed down like a scar. It settles in the marrow, sharpened by years of moving through a world that sees my body before it hears my voice. A brown, hijabi, Pakistani woman. A being that does not blend. A political provocation.
Instinct is inherently primal—a spark in the nervous system, a silent command to run, hide, disappear. Mine hums with attunement to a different kind of algorithm, honed by a lifetime of subverting crowds that ache to erase me.
What is instinct, if not survival? A body remembering before the mind can catch up. A past that refuses to stay buried. A mother’s hand tightening around her daughter’s wrist when a stranger steps too close. A father teaching his son how to make himself small. A young woman adjusting her scarf, straightening her spine, walking forward anyway.
Instinct is how I have learned to exist in spaces that want me to be unseen. Braced for impact. Always anticipating a tumble. Because safety is never promised, only borrowed.
But instinct is also resilience. The quiet strength of generations who endured, rebuilt, and whispered survival into their children’s ears. My existence is defiance, not loud, but steady. A refusal to be erased, a refusal to shrink.
And instinct has led me to community. To solace. To strength. So, I walk. Head high and shoulders back. Watching, listening, and learning. Every step a quiet act of persistence carrying us forward, together.
Maryam Iftikhar is a Pakistani-American immigrant and first-gen human rights scholar and strategic communications professional. Based in the east coast, her research and writing explores the intersections between transitional justice, intersectional empowerment, atrocity prevention, and cultural anthropology. She is also fantasy fanatic and runs a bookstagram called tomesandtravels.