I am fortunate to have been born in a family that taught me to be strong, and to always stand up when repeatedly pushed down. When I climbed a tree, fell down, and scraped my knees, my parents never said, “don’t ruin your fragile skin”, or “preserve your beauty”. Instead, they encouraged me to climb back up again. I have the pleasure of being able to keep all my hair, not only the hair on my head, because my parents gave me the choice to do so. My path to my Sikhi has been a long and hard journey, but now I am proud to say that I wholeheartedly respect and try to uphold my religion in its original, uncorrupted tenants. There are, however, many Sikh families that have started to veer off this path. Many Sikhs now do not feel any sense of remorse or guilt as they veer off the path our Gurus laid out for us. It never fails to hurt to hear that so many strong Sikhs have started to revert to the ideologies that our Gurus had tried to eradicate. It is up to us, the new generation, to learn about who we were, in order to find a sense of community and support in the true beliefs of the Gurus once more.
One such strong and commanding Sikh was Bibi Amro. In a time where women were put down all across the country, Bibi Amro was raised in an environment where having a daughter was cherished instead of abhorred. A well educated and talented singer, she was more than fit to be the daughter of Guru Angad Dev Ji. Through marriage, she became related to Bhai Gurdas Ji, who went on to accompany Guru Arjan Dev Ji in his travels. She often inspired others to join Sikhi by doing kirtan and spreading information about the Sikh faith’s values and beliefs. One such person was Amar Das Ji, who went on to become Guru Amar Das Ji.
Before Guru Amar Das Ji became the Guru, he was a close neighbor to Bibi Amro Ji. The sakhi that is most often told is that when Bibi Amro Ji was churning milk to make butter, she started singing Japji Sahib. Amar Das Ji was walking close by and was struck by her beautiful voice. As he listened closer, he was captivated by the words of Guru Nanak Dev Ji and instantly fell in love with the Baani. Once she had finished, he asked Bibi Amro about the origin of these words and Bibi Amro replied saying that these came from Guru Nanak Dev Ji. Amar Das Ji insisted on meeting Guru Nanak Dev Ji to learn more about Sikhi, but Guru Nanak Dev Ji had already passed away and given the Guruship to Guru Angad Dev Ji. Amar Das Ji devoted his life and continued seva for Guru Angad Dev Ji. When it was time to pass on his guruship, Guru Angad Dev Ji chose Guru Amar Das Ji as his successor. Without Bibi Amro Ji, Guru Amar Das Ji may have never chanced upon Sikhi, and her impact in his life has been widely credited.
When Guru Amar Das Ji became the third Guru, he organized the Sikh Panth into 22 teaching regions, cited as “Manjis” in many texts. Each was governed by someone Guru Ji believed was an extension or representative of himself. Bibi Amro was appointed as one of these heads. As the authority figure of one of these districts, she was most likely responsible for collecting taxes and the general health of the citizens that lived in the area, one of which was her own husband. Bibi Amro’s contributions helped Amristar become such a prominent area in Sikhi today. It is a testament to her strength and resilience to persevere through so many of the hardships she had faced throughout her life, and make such an impact on who we are today. She was even given a tank named after her called: Amro Da Talab because she was so likeable and appreciated by the Panth.
So many Sikhs, and Sikh girls in particular, have started to regress into the cookie-cutter rules that modern society has laid out for us. We have been taught that our brown skin is evidence of weakness and our unruly hair should be cut before it gets the chance to grow. We have been told that scars and hairy legs are unfeminine, so many shave their legs and refuse to take risks. But if we take a look, and see the power in who the women in Sikhi used to be, it is more than apparent that we need to be strong instead of weak. We need to take risks, instead of cowering in the face of them. Our hair is a testament to our love for Waheguru, and our scars are a physical representation of our struggles and our triumphs. We are daughters of the Khalsa, so we are already on the shoulders of these beautiful, awe-inspiring women. All that’s left to do is stand up.
Mayher Kaur, 18, IL