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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of animal cruelty, gender discrimination, child abuse, sexual content, and self-harm.
The pigeons and the dovecote function as a recurring motif that represents the constraints of patriarchal legacy and the illusion of freedom under the Kanun. Initially, the dovecote is a project through which Murash asserts his masculine authority, a space he controls completely. The pigeons he keeps, particularly those with clipped wings, symbolize a carefully managed and curtailed existence that mirrors the life of women in the village, including his daughter, Bekija. This containment reflects the core tenets of The Burden of Family Honor, where individual liberty is sacrificed for a controlled, patriarchal order.
After Sále flees and Murash accepts his own impending death, his obsession shifts to building a new, monumental dovecote. He declares, “I want to build the biggest dovecote in Albania” (68). This final act is about cementing a legacy, a monument to his choice to die an “honorable” death according to the Kanun’s brutal logic. For Bekija, who inherits this world, the dovecote becomes a symbol of the prison her father built for himself and, by extension, for her. Her final act of setting the pigeons “free” is deeply ironic, as she knows they are conditioned to return, suggesting that escaping one’s inherited prison is never as simple as opening a door.
The color blue is a recurring symbol of Bekija’s lifelong yearning for a masculine identity, simply because it aligns with Murash’s expectations for her. The symbol is rooted in a linguistic quirk that shapes Bekija’s entire existence. The novel’s epigraph explains that the Bulgarian word sin is a homonym for both “son” and “blue,” directly linking the color to her father’s unfulfilled wish for a male heir. This connection is established before her birth: “because still in my mother’s womb / I hear things / like my father saying / iskam sin / I wish for a boy” (ix). For Bekija, blue ceases to be a mere color and becomes the embodiment of the approval, freedom, and power afforded only to men in her world.
Bekija’s insistence on wearing blue as a child is a desperate attempt to become the son her father wanted, a core element of her Identity Rewritten by Survival. The blue wedding dress she chooses and hides away represents the collision of her suppressed femininity with this deep-seated desire. It is a garment for a woman, yet in the color of the man she wishes she could be. Ultimately, the symbol of blue encapsulates the tragedy of her life: a constant striving to embody a gender that was imposed on her as a condition of her father’s love, leading to the eventual erasure of her own identity.
Milk is a complex motif that initially symbolizes femininity, purity, and life-giving sustenance, but becomes irrevocably tainted by trauma and forbidden love. It is the central element in the village dairy, the clandestine space where Bekija and Dhana’s relationship culminates, an event that illustrates The Repression of Queer Desire in their violently heteronormative society. The dairy, filled with the substance of life, becomes the site where Bekija’s future is destroyed. As her encounter with Dhana unfolds, her “dress swims in pulp of milk and mud” (55), a powerful image that signifies the end of innocence and the mixing of pure desire with the grime of social consequence.
After the encounter, Bekija attempts to wash the blood from her thighs with milk, a futile gesture of purification that emphasizes the impossibility of cleansing the trauma or its implications under the Kanun. From this moment on, milk is a symbolic reminder of a formative event in her life. It shows a life-altering moment where love and violence became inseparable, forcing Bekija to kill her female self to survive and creating an emotional wound that never heals.
Murash’s razor is a key symbol of performed masculinity and the erasure of Bekija’s female self. It first appears as an object of revelation for young Bekija, who sees her reflection in the mirror when “a slim shadow rose from it and fell on my face like a mustache” (40). This moment is a foreshadowing of her future, the first time she visually conceives of herself in a masculine form, an identity that promises the power and recognition her father withholds from her as a girl. The razor represents the potential for transformation, offering an escape route from the confines of her gender.
Later, after she has become Matija, the razor transitions from a symbol of potential to a tool of maintenance. The daily act of shaving becomes the ritual that reinforces her new identity, a physical performance required to sustain the persona she adopted for survival. Each stroke of the blade against her skin is a reaffirmation of Bekija’s death and Matija’s existence. The razor thus marks both the beginning and the continuation of her identity rewritten by survival, embodying the sharp, painful act of carving a new self out of the old one.



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