My parents have three 'children'. That is the way they have raised us. Of course, they cherish us and appreciate us as young women. But we have not been defined by our gender. You lead by example, and my parents both of Pakistani heritage, have reiterated that they do not need a son to feel content.
As many others before him, my dad came to this country from Cyprus when he was 15-years-old, with just the clothes he stood up in. It was 1958 and he was fleeing a volatile situation on the Island and landed in London not really having a next step planned. Since then he's made his way, been married three times, led a full life and watched his island from his not so new home.
Now I have reached that point in my life when I try to remember what it was like to watch one daughter see off all-comers at netball, and the other complete her gymnastics routine in a packed hall. The memories are there, because there were rare occasions when I did tear myself away from work. But they are not as sharp as I would like, perhaps because my mind was often on other things, my mobile phone clutched tightly in my hand.
I imagine a young Emmeline Pankhurst's Mum despaired over her tiny daughter's strong-willed determination at everything. I wonder if some days she wondered if she could handle another debate over the simplest of things. I wonder if there were days when she considered trying to get Emmeline to just being so opinionated.