The first day I became a daughter-in-law, my mother-in-law brought out all the dishes, pots and pans and told me to wash them, then said: if I don’t do it, “I’ll take them back to my parents’ house” and then… I had just arrived at my husband’s house in a neighborhood in Quezon City. The previous night, I was still getting used to the strange land, when the next morning, Mama-in-law called me to the kitchen. I just thought she would make tea or cook breakfast. Unexpectedly, she brought out the entire cupboard of dishes, old pots and pans from the corner of the kitchen, things that had not been used for a long time and placed them in the middle of the yard.
She spoke coldly, without a smile:
– A new daughter-in-law must learn, wash everything — small to large. Don’t miss a single piece.
I was stunned. My husband — hi Juan — was still sleeping upstairs, so she didn’t know what to do. I was hurt, but I didn’t dare disobey my mother-in-law. Cold water, slippery soap – I sat down and washed each black pot; My nails were bleeding from my vigorous scrubbing. My hands were red with sweat, so they trembled from the cold.
Sometimes Mama-in-law would come down to “check”. She would use her finger to scratch the edge of the bowl, and when she saw a faint trace, she would sarcastically say:
– “Who else raised you? How can you live like this?”
I felt my heart ache. I tried to bite my lips, swallowing my tears. When Juan came down, I expected him to ask; Instead, he just stood there leaning against the railing, calmly pouring water to drink, and then turned away as if it was no use.
I raised my face, my hands wet and shaking. Looking back at my wife, I was stunned – for the first time, I understood: the path of being a daughter-in-law here is not only about food and clothing, but also a challenge to the harsh judgment of one’s own home.
Juan sighed, said indifferently – “It’s okay, mama, that’s what she said. Just break it up a little, wash it then rest.”
His words were like a knife piercing my heart. “A few bowls”? It wasn’t a few bowls. It was a pile of rusty pots and pans, stacked plates, dust and mold from years of use. I washed them until my hands were sore, but she considered it a small matter.
Mama-in-law heard that and raised her chin:
– “Look? My husband said. The new daughter must endure. Don’t complain.”
I hunched over, dizzy, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Mixed with dark dishwashing liquid. On the first day, I realized that I had to protect myself. If only my husband stood there watching, who would be by my side?
Anger grew. I couldn’t take it anymore. A tear fell – then a determination flew: if my husband didn’t defend me, I would find a way to stand upright in this house.
I put down my chopsticks, my hands shaking, burning from being in the water for so long. “Mom, I’m tired. Maybe I’ll continue later…” – I whispered and dragged myself upstairs, my whole body on my knees as if all my energy had been drained.
Before I could lie down, the sound of dishes clanging rang out from the kitchen, then Mama-in-law’s shrill voice tore through the air:
– “The new son-in-law is so lazy! If you don’t obey, I’ll take you back to your house! We don’t need to litter here!”
I was stunned. The words “take you back home” were like a knife piercing deep into my self-esteem. Juan remained silent and scrolled through his phone, not uttering a single word in my defense.
My heart ached. I wasn’t afraid of washing dishes — I was afraid of getting hurt, afraid of being trampled in the very house I had just entered. I swallowed my tears, thinking: if I was threatened with eviction now, what would my future be like here?But amidst all that pain, one thing was clear: I would not allow myself to be buried in cold water and harsh words forever. I swore to myself: I would learn to stand up, protect my dignity, demand respect – even if it had to start with the smallest things.