laila, her snowsuit & summer dress

My bus arrived at Laila’s house a few minutes early on a sunny dry day in late August 2022. There was a slight chill in the air, and at the front door Lalia’s father was trying to put a woollen hat on her head but she was fighting against it. Her parents had decided that her father would take Lalia and her brother to the local playground whilst I chatted with their mother. They hadn’t intended for Lalia and I to meet but my early bus and Lalia’s fight with the hat thwarted their plans. Laila looked confused and then distressed by my presence. As Laila’s mother led me inside, Laila started to scream and cry. She lay down on the floor, clinging on with determination. Growing tired, Laila wandered off. Her mother nudged my gaze towards the porch. Laila pulled the snowsuit up over her legs and let it rest at her waist. She put her right arm inside a padded sleeve, and then her left. She shrugged it up over her shoulders. Ever so slowly and with great attention she pulled up the zipper with her tiny hands. She then pulled the hood over her head and sighed. As she blocked out the room the crying stopped, the incessant movement subsided, the screaming ceased. Then Laila reversed these actions. The snowsuit was around her ankles once again. She repeated the dressing actions. Then the undressing. Again, again and again.

Laila’s mother led me into her daughter’s bedroom where she had laid out some examples of her favourite clothes. Laila pointed towards a plastic storage box on the top of the wardrobe labelled “summer clothes”. Her mother climbed on a stool and brought down the box. She opened it and Laila pulled out a simple cotton t-shirt dress with an A-line skirt to the calf. She put it on. Her eyes lit up. She rubbed her hands up and down the skirt. She was enjoying the sensation but it felt performative for my benefit. The performance intensified as she twirled in the dress, showing me how the dress moved her and she moved the dress. She brushed against me as she came to sit next to me on the bed. It seemed deliberate more than accidental, but I wasn’t sure. Then she took my hand to feel the skirt. I now understood that she had wanted me to feel it when she brushed against me. Her mother and I started talking about nightwear. Lalia walked over to her drawers and started rifling through them. She pulled out a pair of fleece-like pyjamas. Her mother explained these were her favourite winter pyjamas. They would have a lot of tantrums when they were in the wash. Even in summer she prefers to wear them and would rather open the window to cool down than wear something lighter. Lalia pulled off the dress, and started to put on the top of the pyjamas. Her head got stuck. She wasn’t frustrated. She seemed to be enjoying it. I couldn’t see her face but her body relaxed. Laila hung in that position for a few minutes: arms up, hands resting on her head, her face submerged in this fleece-like fabric.

This is an extract taken from a PhD which will be published in late 2024