Unique

The Struggle for Acceptance

One afternoon, Daoyi sat outside the family hut, quietly weaving a basket, his hands moving automatically over the reeds while his thoughts wandered. His mother, Amaela, was nearby, watching his younger siblings play. The gentle sounds of the village surrounded them—the chatter of women at the well, the clinking of tools being prepared for the evening’s work—but Daoyi felt detached, like a spectator in his own life.

Amaela glanced at him and noticed his faraway look. “Daoyi, is something bothering you?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Ma,I don’t know. I feel like... I don’t fit anywhere.”

Amaela stopped what she was doing and came to sit beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

Daoyi’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. “I’m supposed to be a Carrier, a symbol of the Goddess’s blessing. But I don’t feel blessed. I feel like... I’m only here to have children. Like that’s the only reason anyone values me.”

Amaela’s face softened, her heart aching at her son’s words. “Daoyi, you are so much more than just a Carrier. The Goddess chose you, yes, but not only to bear children. You have a great destiny ahead of you.”

Daoyi looked up at her, his eyes full of doubt. “But what if that’s all people see? What if all they care about is that I can have children? They don’t see me as a warrior or a leader. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be anymore.”

Before Amaela could respond, the sound of laughter interrupted them. Abeta was passing by with a group of girls, their conversation loud and pointed. As they approached, Abeta’s eyes landed on Daoyi, and her lips curled into a sneer.

“Well, look who it is,” Abeta said loudly, making sure everyone could hear. “The tribe’s precious little Carrier, sitting there like a delicate flower.”

The other girls giggled, but Daoyi’s expression tightened. He avoided her gaze, his fingers gripping the basket tighter.

Abeta took a few steps closer, her voice mocking. “Are you practicing to be the perfect little wife, Daoyi? Or are you still figuring out which role suits you better—man or woman?”

“Abeta,” Amaela’s voice was sharp as she stood up, her protective instincts flaring. “That’s enough.”

Abeta raised her eyebrows, feigning innocence. “I’m only joking, Ma. Surely, Daoyi doesn’t mind a little teasing. After all, he’s going to be the High Warrior Chief’s spouse one day, right?”

Daoyi’s jaw clenched, but he remained silent. The words, though masked as humor, cut deep. It wasn’t the first time Abeta had made such remarks, and it wouldn’t be the last. Her bitterness toward him had only grown since the betrothal, and Daoyi knew that it wasn’t just about him—it was about her desire for status, for something she felt she deserved more than he did.Abeta was one of the many girls who disliked him making it obvious at all times but she was the only one that made it so obvious.

Abeta was the head Hunter's first child who shared the same birthday with him, somehow she seemed to think that Daoyi had taken her rightful place in the tribe being as she would have been betrothed to either the High Chief's first son (being Daoyi and since he was a carrier that was not possible) or to the head warrior's first son (this was also not possible since Daoyi had to be betrothed to him and the head warrior has only one son). Abeta wanted a high position in the tribe and Daoyi was an obstacle to her which was the major reason for her dislike.

Amaela stepped closer to Abeta, her tone cold. “You’ve made your point. Now leave him be.”

Abeta’s smile faltered slightly, but she shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “Of course, Mama. I was just having some fun.” She turned to the other girls, tossing her hair. “Come on, let’s go.”

As they walked away, their laughter faded into the distance, but the sting of Abeta’s words lingered.

Amaela knelt beside Daoyi, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to listen to her, Daoyi. She’s only trying to get under your skin.”

“But she’s right,” Daoyi muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “
Amaela took his hand in hers, her grip firm. “Daoyi, you are more than what they say. You are more than their expectations. The Goddess saw something in you that no one else can see yet, but one day, they will.”

Daoyi shook his head, his eyes filled with tears. “I’m not even sure the Goddess made the right choice. I don’t feel strong like you, or wise like Father. I feel... lost.”

Amaela’s heart ached as she looked at her son, seeing the weight of the expectations wearing him down. She reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You are still young, Daoyi. It’s normal to feel uncertain. But strength doesn’t come from always knowing who you are—it comes from learning, from growing, and from finding your place in the world, no matter how long it takes.”

Daoyi looked away, his thoughts still swirling with doubt.

As the evening drew closer, and the village prepared for the evening meal, Daoyi felt the weight of both his family’s reassurances and Abeta’s taunts. He wanted so badly to believe that he was more than what the tribe saw in him—that he was more than just a vessel for future children. But the path to accepting himself seemed long and uncertain.

And as he watched the firelight flicker in the distance, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, no matter what he did, he would always be walking a fine line between who he was and who he was expected to be