My Feminism between the USA and the UAE

Feminism Is Too Strong of a Word

I did not identify myself as a feminist until fairly recently.  Growing up, I always had the image of a feminist as an angry men-hating, bra-burning, refusing-to-shave-her-legs woman.  I have since been enlightened- according to recent research, there are numerous self-identified feminists who have never burned a bra in their life.  There are even more men and women who believe in and even advocate for gender equality, but do not identify themselves as feminists because they incorrectly characterize the term in the same extremist manner as I did for so long.

My favorite comedian/quirky celebrity crush Aziz Ansari explains this misunderstanding perfectly. 

 Now that I have had the opportunity to live in both the West and the East, I see the ways that feminism manifests itself in alternate societal structures, and the diversity of issues to which it is applied.  In this article, I want to share two defining points in my life- one in the U.S. and one in Dubai- that have shaped my understanding of gender equality and strengthened my appreciation for the role feminism plays in our world. 

Pretty Isn’t Everything

When I received the voicemail calling me in to interview for an internship in the office of Governor Mary Fallin of Oklahoma, my hands started shaking so much that I dropped my cellphone in my cereal.  My father is always the first one I call when I get good news, and this time was no exception.  Together, my father and I prepared for the interview by mapping out a set of notes, mind maps and research.

When I walked into the lobby of Governor Fallin’s office, my notebook was filled with Venn diagrams, crossed out words and arrows connecting the names of public officials to bullet points jotted down in shorthand- the type of organized chaos that may have looked less legible than a kindergartener’s diary entry.  I studied the notes on my lap while waiting for my name to be called, trying to cram in every detail about the Governor’s most recent statement on energy policy and the names of every staffer in her office.

My interviewer introduced himself as Luke.  He was in his late twenties, with a slight southern drawl and a wide smile that only grew bigger when I tripped over the rug in his office and landed sideways on an arm chair.  Luke helped me pick up my notes that had sprawled all over the floor, and commented that bad handwriting is a sign of creativity.  I was off to a decent start.

The beginning of the actual interview was much less eventful.  After running through the obligatory introduction pleasantries of “Why do you want to work here?” and “What is your major?”, Luke moved on to ask questions more specific to the Governor’s public policy and the political climate in Oklahoma.  These questions were not difficult- anyone who turned on the news that day would know about the topics- they just required a more in depth answer than “I am a sophomore at the University of Oklahoma and no I do not have a criminal record.”

Luke was a little bit too impressed by my basic knowledge of the political and my ability to discuss current events.  He seemed taken aback when I told him I knew who my senators were, and was genuinely surprised after finding out that I read the newspaper every day.  After I confirmed that I know how the Electoral College worked and was even registered to vote (gasp!), Luke cut me off mid-sentence.

The next part of our conversation went as follows:

Me: Yes, I actually registered to vote on my eighteenth birthday…

Luke: Can I just stop you for one second?  I just have to let you know that most girls as pretty as you are not that smart.  But you are way smarter than I thought you would be.  And you’re really pretty.  Do people always tell you that you’re really pretty?

Me: Not in a job interview.

I was offered the internship on the spot and I accepted.  But I had a sinking feeling in my stomach as I walked out of the office with my new work schedule in hand.

Logically, I was sure that I deserved the internship.  I had a high GPA, numerous recommendations and a great resume.  I knew that I would work hard to make the most of this opportunity and that the staff would not regret hiring me.  At the same time, however, I could not help but feel cheap- like I had cheated my way into winning something that I could have won by my own merit.  Did Luke only offer me the job because he thought I was pretty?  Was I actually smart, or did I just exceed the insultingly low bar that he had set for me?  These questions nagged me long after I was hired, and even after the internship ended.

My interview with Luke was the first, but certainly not the last time I had to prove myself just to be on a level playing field.  I am passionate about my career path because I strongly believe that politics has the potential to be the most tangible source of empowerment, meaningful change and social evolution.  My involvement in politics has allowed me to raise others’ expectations and change initial methods of gauging competence and qualification.  This work is important to me because I trust that if I can prove myself now, then another young woman will not have to prove herself in the future.  It took a little bit of growing up and a lot more experience for me to be confident in my strengths and abilities based on my own evaluation.  I now know that my accomplishments are not reliant on on my physical appearance and that my intelligence is independent of any arbitrary bar someone sets for me.

Lindsey Isn’t a Virgin Name

It comes as no surprise that Americans hold stereotypes about the Middle East.  The combination of sensationalist media, lack of education and the human tendency to generalize and fear the unfamiliar has perpetrated a culture of misunderstanding, ignorance and antagonism towards the MENA region.

This is not a new concept- it is possible to find the systematic and deliberate breeding of stereotypes in every era the of US foreign policy. During the Cold War, Americans were taught to fear Russia.  The media agenda covered only the most terrifying and threatening of news stories.  Popular movies featured villains with thick Russian accents and books filled with stories of Soviet hostility hit the shelves.  In my generation, Russians have been replaced with Arabs.  The Middle East is so severely generalized that Americans seem to forget that the region is not just one big country with a monolithic population of Islamic extremists.

I have always known that Americans hold stereotypes about the Middle East, but somehow it never occurred to me that people in the Middle East might hold just as severe stereotypes about Americans.  When I first came to Dubai, I found that many of my new peers expected me to act a certain way or carry a definite set of beliefs that were so different than my own it was almost laughable.  It was hard to shake the image of the sexually-immoral American party girl with a questionable set of values.

An example of a conversation that I had with a young man here:

Him: What’s your name?

Me: Lindsey

Him: Are you learning Arabic because you want to get with Arab guys?

Me: Excuse me?

Him: Come on don’t freak out.  You’re from America and your name is Lindsey.  Lindsey isn’t a virgin name.

More than offended, I was shocked that anyone would have the audacity to say that to me.  While a relatively liberal sexual culture exists in the United States, the topic of personal sexual relations is a topic that is usually avoided when introducing oneself to a stranger.  This type of blatant disrespect was something that I chalked up to a traditional, patriarchal society that often objectifies women.  I made the conclusion that, because virginity is something that can customarily add to or retract from the value of a woman, asking a woman about her sexual past was akin to asking how many miles were on a car you were thinking of buying.  I had fallen into the trap- I made assumptions before I had adequate information and based my opinions on broad, simplistic generalizations.

A common Western misconception is that Islam is the sole cause of female oppression in the Middle East.  I admit that even after studying Middle Eastern language, culture and history for the past three years, I was guilty of thinking that overly-strict religious practices or misinterpretations of Holy Scripture were the main road blocks towards gender equality in the region.

I found out just how wrong I was when I visited the Women’s Museum in Dubai.  On their website, the museum is described as:

“A cultural initiative, unique in the Arab World and the Gulf Region.

                          A space to explore and celebrate the lives of women of the UAE.

 A place where people can meet and appreciate the achievements of the women of the UAE.

The Women’s Museum aims to discover UAE society through the lives of women past and present, by highlighting the various roles played by women of the UAE.”

 

Ideally, the State should be the definitive guardian of women’s rights.  Today, the aim of many modern feminist movements in the Middle East is to solidify women’s status and individual rights, such as the ability to contract and register one’s own marriage, or file for divorce, or to seek justice in cases of rape or sexual abuse. As we work towards this goal in the MENA region, it is necessary to acknowledge the institutionalized sexism that is evident in every area of governance from personal status laws to penal and criminal codes.  These laws are detrimental to forward societal progress because they legitimize violations of women’s human rights in both the private and public spheres and they serve as a constant reminder that women’s foundational social identity as reproductive and sexual being who is constrained by men, her family, and her state.

I was happy to find information at the Women’s Museum about the significant historical and modern contributions that women made to the UAE, but what I found most notable was the amount of important arenas in which women were involved.  I did not just learn about women in their traditional roles of homemaker and mother.  While the exhibits honored and respected this traditional role, they also included information about women in business, education, politics, arts and science.

The Women’s Museum also addressed the poly-causal nature of gender inequality and sexism in the region.  Before Islam, the Arabian Peninsula was mostly a tribal society.  The status of women varied between tribes and geographic location, but women often did not enjoy the same rights and responsibilities as men.  Historical findings have revealed that ancient legal codes often gave tribal clans authority over women, and predominantly women’s bodies.  After Islam came to the region and introduced Sharia Law, this authority shifted to the Ummah (the community of Muslims) and its governing officials.  Even with the spread of Islam, however, tribal practices continued to constrict women’s behavior.  The governing structure of this transitional era was characterized by relative tribal autonomy from the state and a lack of central authority.  Therefore, the control of female bodies and sexuality cannot be considered an “Islamic” phenomenon but instead a combination of different patriarchal religious, societal and political practices.

In recent historical developments, the process of institutionalized modernization has slowly shifted authority over women and their bodies from their extended families to their husbands and in certain sporadic cases, directly to women themselves. Unfortunately, as Dr. Sherifa Zuhur explains in her paper Gender, Sexuality and the Criminal Laws in the Middle East and North Africa: A Comparative Study “Certain omissions from the modern legal codes, like criminal penalties against marital rape or FGM (female genital mutilation) and the legal loopholes providing exemptions or reduced sentences for crimes of honor, exhibit the same underlying principle – that families, clans and tribes hold power over women, as well as the notion that men’s lives, testimony, and value outweigh those of women.” This power balance has withstood tribal legal practices, the advent of Shari’ah law and the ultimate establishment of the legal codes currently administered by the government. It is worthwhile to note that men are also victims of being controlled by their families, but “there is a key difference in that men are considered to be responsible for women’s sexual behavior” (Zuhur, 5).

With information from the Women’s Museum and further studies independently and in class, I was able to find a few of the historical roots relating to my original question of women and virginity.  As I previously discussed, the tribes in pre-Islamic times exhibited varying degrees of gender equality; some tribes were not strictly patrilineal, but others were.  As Islam spread throughout the region, it also “encountered and assimilated neighboring gender practices” as well as the laws and customs of male-dominated, European Colonial powers (Zuhur, 7).  “Borrowed” traditions such as honor codes, the bride price, and the systems of retribution under tribal or customary law all bolstered a system in which women were legal, economic, and political dependents. They held value because of their reproductive ability and because marrying a virgin was the most effective way to determine lineage, men policed their women, thus earning higher payments for a virgin bride.

The most encouraging news I found was that despite the unfavorable treatment of women in the past, the future is gradually looking brighter for the female population of the MENA region.  In both Muslim and non-Muslim countries, laws covering women’s personal status are changing. The gender codes in the region make it apparent that there is a notable degree of social control over women and girls.  However, feminist organizations, individuals and even government entities have been working to make institute legal reforms combating challenges I previously discussed.  These reforms have the potential to reshape the entire social future of the Middle East by turning the equitable treatment of women and girls from a foreign notion into a legally institutionalized reality.

Works Cited

Zuhur, Sherifa. “Dr. Sherifa Zuhur Explains in Her Paper Gender, Sexuality and the Criminal Laws in the Middle East and North Africa: A Comparative Study.” (2005): n. pag. Women for Women’s Human Rights (WWHR) – NEW WAYS. Web. 30 Mar. 2015.

Humanity transcends

In the Greenaway Art Gallery GAGPROJECTS exhibit at Art Dubai 2015, four circles of equivalent size were hung on a wall. These were Persian daf, drums made from goatskin stretched over wooden frames, which had been re-imagined as light-boxes by the artist Nasim Nasr. Each goatskin drum became a canvas for a different image, with the digital print on laminate illuminated by an LED backlight. Together, the four daf compose the Nasr’s 2013 series Shadi (translated from Farsi as Happiness). Although depicting different pairs of hands, in slightly varied positions and as seen from different angles, the images still maintain similarity. The hands could belong to people of different ages and genders, but still there is a unity in the way they do something as simple as clasp their hands together. As I looked at the images, I wondered if there was significance behind the act of clasping ones hands together. Perhaps it was a distinctly Persian mannerism with which I was not familiar.

Upon further research on Nasim Nasr and her work, it would seem that hands are captured in the motion of the Persian snap, beshkan (Llewellyn). The beshkan is performed to signify celebration, hence the title of the work being the Farsi word for happiness. However, even if the meaning of the motion remains ambiguous to the viewer, the significance of the work is not lost. This simplicity of presentation allows the images to be analyzed in isolation, rather than within a certain context. As James Scarborough, an art, theatre, and film critic for the Huffington Post describes, “Suggesting human condition processes irrespective of sex, the series levels discrimination based on gender bias” (Scarborough 2015). Through the depiction of the unity of a simple gesture, Nasr demonstrates a transcendence beyond gender. To be human is to be human; gender does not diminish the human condition. As Nasr describes, her “work presents the human body…there are no faces, just hands, just voices or sounds made by them, no faces, no obvious ‘identity’ as such…this is not a form of self-censorship, just simply the desire to present an escaping of identity” (Scarborough 2013).

Nasr, born and initially educated in Iran, moved to Australia to complete her graduate studies in Visual Arts, and has lived and worked there since. She speaks of herself as in between the East and the West and of her work as a “cross-cultural dialogue” (Reid). When asked about a common theme in her work, Nasr describes it as “the complexities of all contemporary issues between East and West, because I am from one and now in the other” (Scarborough 2013). Interestingly, the images transposed onto the daf in Shadi are similar to another work of Nasr’s, a film piece called Beshkan (Breakdown), which consists of an up-close one minute video of the double handed snap. With the added dimensions of motion and sound, the work comes to represent “how imagery and actions can mean one thing in the East and something else in the West” (Llewellyn). The purely celebratory gesture might seem reminiscent, to a Western ear and eye, of the act of pretending to shoot a gun formed by ones hands, as children do while playing war games. As described in Nasr’s portfolio, “While this joyous ‘dance’ of double-handed finger snapping celebrates happiness and good news in those particular cultures, to the unknowing viewer [it] might be construed as something quite the contrary, seemingly aggressive and sinister…Thus the inherent contradiction and ambiguity of the action can never be separated from each other” (Nasr).

The West’s understanding of Middle Eastern, and especially Muslim, women might be described in the same way – one of ambiguity and inherent contradictions. From the practice of veiling, to political participation, to economic participation, to social behavior, the Western eye is unable to interpret the ambiguity it sees in Middle Eastern women with the framework available. Instead, a choice is made to stereotype and generalize: Veiled women are oppressed. Arab women are subservient. They live in fear of their husbands, their fathers, their brothers, and of all men. They do not participate in politics. They do not work in any economic sector, informal or otherwise. They are devoid of sexuality, or are so potent with it that they have no identity beyond sexuality. They exist in the backrooms of mosques, pushed away from any involvement with Islam beyond the practices of worship deemed appropriate and mandated by the men in their lives. They lack individual identity. They lack humanity. They need to be liberated. They need to be saved from the bondage of their culture, their religion, their people.

Certainly this may be the story of some women in the Middle East. Some elements may be the story of many women in the Middle East. But it is not entire, irrefutably true story of every woman in the Middle East. For many women in the Middle East, this story has nothing to do with their own reality.

Yet, this is the story we hear most often in the West. To borrow the term of the Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche, this is the “single story” of Middle Eastern women. As Adiche describes:

To insist on only these negative stories is to flatten my experience and to overlook the many other stories that formed me. The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story…The consequence of the single story is this: It robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar. (Adiche).

The danger of the single story is in its perpetual nature. It reinforces itself without effort. Take the example of veiled women. If a veiled woman, whether she wears a hijab, niqab, or burqa, is covered in any context by the Western media, immediately, the familiar messages are broadcast alongside this coverage. She is oppressed. She is weak. She has no agency. The single story reignites. It is combating the single story, the generalizations, and the stereotypes that is more difficult. This does not happen so automatically. Instead it takes deconstruction, step by step, stereotype by stereotype, and case by case.

 A scientist films a segment for a Western news program, serving as an expert consulted to explain some phenomenon of relevance. The scientist happens to be a woman. She happens to be Middle Eastern. She happens to be Muslim. She happens to wear a hijab. The questions begin to arise in the mind of viewers. How does she speak English so well? How does she even understand that scientific phenomenon? She certainly could not have had the opportunity to receive a good education. Her family could not have been supportive of her interests. How could she have pursued her education when she is clearly so weak? She hides her hair after all. She would not veil if she were not weak in the face of oppression.

As frustratingly narrow-minded as these questions are, they open a space for the deconstructions of stereotypes. There is an opportunity to unpack the evolution of the veil as a practice, tracing its origins through the Qur’an and the hadiths. Then it would be possible for someone to understand why a woman would, completely of her own volition and without coercion, choose to veil. Gradually, it becomes easier to see a woman as her individual self, rather than a set construction of generalized characteristics.

At the Women’s Museum in Deira, the only museum of its kind in the Middle East, this deconstruction is being performed on the stories of Emirati women. The small, but beautifully curated museum is housed in Bayt al Binat, and works to elucidate the roles that Emirati women have historically played in the arts, academics, business, culture, politics, and society. Art by Emirati women is showcased, demonstrating that not only have Emirati women played a role historically, but also that they continue to be enormously talented. The hall dedicated to Ousha Bint Khalifa, “the Girl of the Arabs,” celebrates her preeminence as an Arab female poet, paying homage both to her life story and to her work.

By showcasing stories of Emirati women throughout history, the potential for ambiguity and differing interpretation by the West emerges once again. The museum describes stories of wives and mothers of sheikhs who played an enormous role in the political path of the UAE by wielding their influence. Veiled businesswomen, who chose to run their businesses within the comfort of their own home and on their terms, are celebrated for their industrious nature and success. These stories are important, because they do not necessarily correlate with the West’s conception of an empowered, liberated woman. Westerners, trying to conceptualize the stories of Emirati woman within the only framework they have, would consider these examples in a Western context. Why, they would wonder, did the Shiekha have to yield her influence through her husband? Why did she listen to meetings from behind a curtain and save her advice for private conversations with her husband? Why did the businesswoman remain veiled? Would it not inconvenience her to need to conduct business from within her home? However, through its work, the Women’s Museum in Deira is deconstructing these conceptions of what it means to be empowered, and ultimately expanding the accepted definition of an empowered, active, accomplished woman. As Dr. Rafia Ghubash, founder of the Women’s Museum in Deira, describes, “Don’t think because we are covered we are not empowered.” The accomplishments of the Emirati women depicted in the Museum are shown to be worthy of celebration, regardless of context. By examining the role of Emirati women in so many different fields across history, the Women’s Museum successfully demonstrates the transcendence of their strength, accomplishments, and empowerment, whether or not the West views them as such. After all, Western or Middle Eastern, Emirati or American, it could be anyone’s hands snapping the beshkan in Nasim Nasr’s artwork. Humanity transcends.

 ———————————————————————————————-

Shadi (Happiness), 1-4 of a series by Nasim Nasr

Beshkan (Breakdown), production still from the film by Nasim Nasr

Fabrics, by Dr. Najat Mekki. Found in the Women’s Museum in Deira.

Artwork by Dr. Najat Mekki. Found in the Women’s Museum in Deira.

 
Works Consulted
Adiche, Chimamanda Ngozi. “The Danger of a Single Story.” TEDGlobal 2009. July 2009.
Llewellyn, Jane. “Nasim Nasr.” Nasim Nasr. Art Guide Australia, 3 July 2013. Web.
Reid, Chris. “Identity and Mutability – Nasim Nasr.” RealTime. RealTime Arts, n.d. Web.
Scarborough, James. “Interview: Nasim Nasr on Her Exhibition “Untitled 2013″ at Australia’s Greenaway Art Gallery.” The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 21 June 2013. Web.
Scarborough, James. “Nasim Nasr’s Zaeefeh (The Wretchedness) and Shadi (Happiness), GAGPROJECTS Adelaide/Berlin at the 2015 Art Dubai.” The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 7 Mar. 2015. Web.
“Shadi (Happiness).” Nasim Nasr. N.p., n.d. Web.

Slam Poem of Women


I’ve been tryna write a song about women for a while
Sifting through my mind’s cabinet for the gender file
When I looked back at it today I found out the vile
Truth that my perceptions were mere deceptions and I was in denial
 
The file was sabotaged, scribbled with faulty illustrations
Of a woman’s physique, like busts from Greek, the Ancient.
With no arms left, coz they have no right to alter their situation
At least… that’s what I understood from these pages’ interpretations
 
Blinded by traditions and religions, I thought I knew it all
Women’s conditions, and positions, and other things that would fall
Under the division “feminine,” now I know it was a bad call
To expect a woman to be doing dishes in the kitchens, what gall
 
I had to assume feminism was for women and no one other
That’s like saying racism is the problem of the people of color
 
Maybe Rosa Parks shoulda just moved to the back seat without naysaying
Maybe MLK Jr. shoulda taken his dreams to a therapist coz he was obviously insane
as any girl that thinks she can win this gender game
 
Right?
 
I know my topic was to be focusing on the Middle East, but be wise
Open your eyes, realize, slowly we are becoming westernized
And everything’s as far as a click on the address bar, I’ve
had to put up with my sister singing ‘bout how she likes big butts and cannot lie
 
At least she’s taught to be honest right? there’s an upside…
But not to herself… but how could I blame her how would you define
Yourselves if your idols were in those videos like their having a swell time
Dancing for a man who dissects their bodies and rates them… she’s 9
 
And how can I blame her mother and father? how is that fair when
She knows more about the internet than her own parents?
I mean no disrespect to any woman who cooks, cleans, dances, strips, or works
Sings, works at the force, is divorced, as long as she’s getting what she yearns
 
I just wish more people would see how open the world is, I prefer
To let my other sister know, she can go into criminology even though she’s a girl
Feminism is not just a movement to try to get women to drive
It’s not about putting men low and holding women high
 
It’s not about bashing make-up use and girls or guys who like lining their eyes
It’s about E-Q-U-A-L-I-T-Y
It is to try to get their rights of which they’ve been deprived
Never imagined human rights as something for which you must try
 
and fight for and strive, but since that is a reality and fact of life
I’ll be right behind the women, and not checking out their backsides
 
Feminism is the new ‘F’ word… so let’s use it altogether
Say F you to patriarchy, F you to oppression and oppressors
Say F you to prince charming in all your good looks and wonderful carriage
I say whenever I’m ready for marriage.

The Skinny, the Average, and the Curvy: Confessions of Bullied Bodies

By: Sana Kamal and Mirna Alsharif

The Women and Gender in the Middle East class at the American University in Dubai (AUD) held a workshop on women’s bodies. The workshop explored the societal standards that women are urged to adopt when it comes to their bodies.

Dr. Pamela Chrabieh, Professor of women and gender studies at AUD, wanted to show her students the grim realities of defining a woman based on her body.

“As long as they’re perceived as objects; objects of desire, second class citizens, not being equal to men in so many aspects, not being able to produce knowledge, of course the focus will be on them being pretty. Not more than that,” clarifies Dr. Chrabieh.

Students participated by contributing with uplifting messages, art, and personal stories on five different posters.

The first poster illustrated the different silhouettes of women within each other, resembling a Russian doll. The biggest silhouette represented overweight women who are often dismissed as ‘lazy’ and ‘chunky.’ Within it are many silhouettes that lead to the smallest one, which signifies the ‘flat’ or ‘boyish’ women who are assumed to be ‘anorexic.’

Ermida Koduah, a study abroad from the United States, was ridiculed for being skinny as a child. “Being really skinny in an African community is not necessarily a desired body. I used to get teased a lot and I really tried to make myself gain weight,” says Koduah. “Once my curves came in I was more confident in myself. However, the teasing did not go away. I’ve come to realize no matter what size I am, someone will say something.”

When it comes to what influences our perception of body image, Dr. Chrabieh believes many different factors play a role. “Definitely the environment, so all the cultural [and] social norms about what could be the perfect body. But also nowadays there are global standards of body perception that are being circulated; so it’s about globalization. Also education; how you’re being educated in school, university, within your own family. It’s also related to personal experience; either negative, or positive.”

The second poster displayed the different body types, such as the ‘apple’, ’pear’, ‘pencil’, and ‘hour-glass.’ The objective of this illustration was to shine a spotlight on defining women by equating them to inanimate objects. These toxic perceptions fuel the ideology that women are property by dehumanizing them.

“You can’t escape it somehow,” says Dr. Chrabieh. “I think it’s a continued struggle, but with years and more self-consciousness, you’re able to manage it well. And you’re able to accept your body because it’s part of yourself. As it is, it doesn’t mean that you don’t work on it, you don’t exercise, you don’t take care of your appearances but it’s not to the extent of becoming an extremist.”

Two posters included students’ personal stories involving discrimination based on their body types. One student wrote about how she was not allowed play on the swing because she was “too developed.” Another student recalled what it was like growing up with a “tiny” and “skinny” frame and how in her teenage years, boys would call her names because of her weight.

“There are those who come to a point where they are completely independent and they don’t care about what have become the norms. And of course there are those who completely internalize the common norms and do not claim their own bodies at all,” explains Dr. Chrabieh.

Mahek Punjabi, a student who was bullied for being “boney” expressed her disdain for being judged by others. “I’d be loaded if I had a penny for every time someone called me too skinny. Any comments about my body are not welcome unless I specifically ask you what you think. I don’t live to please you.”

When Elaf Patel, a student, was asked if she accepted her body, her demeanor turned somber. “If you’re in a society that likes skinny women, you’re not going to enjoy being chubby. It’s a personal thing; it’s internal. I don’t have anybody that’s like ‘go lose weight.’ It’s me, I look in the mirror and I say ‘what’s wrong with me, go lose weight,’” confesses Patel.

The last poster displayed inspirational quotes written by students, some of which were original while others quoted celebrities. Kate Winslet was quoted emphasizing that women should stop striving for perfection and accept themselves: “I just don’t believe in perfection. But I do believe in saying, ‘This is who I am and look at me not being perfect.’ I’m proud of that.”

“Healthy for me is when you try to look for this harmony in dealing with everything that constitutes your identity; the body, the mind, your spiritual life. An unhealthy social norm is when you focus on an aspect and forget about the others. So as long as you are working on all the aspects on an individual basis, you’ll become healthier, and the community and society will become healthier.”

Unfortunately in this day and age, society’s perceptions of body have impacted women in profound ways, such as when it comes to career choices.

“I want to do print journalism and I don’t know how much of that is because I actually want to do print journalism and how much of that is because I can’t stand to see myself on video. I honestly cannot tell,” admits Elaf.

However, through education and awareness on a local and global level, especially for the youth, we may be able to break away from the stereotypes surrounding different body images. What we lack is the correct system of knowledge that allows us to be more acceptable of the way we look at ourselves.

“To be able to manage this pressure and to transcend the pressure itself, [is] a continuous struggle and few women are able to do that,” emphasizes Dr. Chrabieh. “To say that this is the way I look, this is the way I am, doesn’t mean that I don’t work on myself. [You] work on developing [your] mind and taking care of [your] body. But one should not take the place of the other. It’s trying to balance a kind of a harmony while dealing with both.”

The focus needs to be on encouraging each other to become more autonomous, active citizens and producers of knowledge; starting this transformation within our own families is key. Though this change might not happen overnight, it would lead to a much more positive and accepting society.

How I re-discovered Feminism

I

            It was a Wednesday afternoon, a day before the weekend started. But, it was also my third consecutive year walking the same campus grounds. It started to feel like a routine to me more than anything else; weekdays are not but mere anticipation for the weekends and the weekends are spent dreading the weekdays. The unanimous cawing from the trees surrounding the E-lawn has become white noise to me long ago, but I noticed it that day.

            There she was, Milena, waiting in the right spot at the exact time we were supposed to walk to Pascal Tepper together, because she did not know the way. She made a joke about me being late and then we were off.

            A lot of things went through my mind the day we were headed to our first agape session with the Women and Genders class — I wondered why the professor pronounces the word ‘agape’ weird. I also remembered how she explained what she thought the word meant but I did not listen because I knew that agape meant ‘wide open’. Although, I did pick up a few words from the definition she thought was right.

            “…. Food… togetherness… sharing,” she said, followed by a couple of other unrelated words.

            That day, I felt like I was being dragged shopping with my mother, and not to the stores where we would end up buying things for me too.

            I did not understand why they needed to devise a class for women and gender issues. Don’t they already have therapy for that? And those feminist girl pop icons? Also, I never understood why I would need a class like that, seeing as, of course, I knew everything about women; Middle Eastern women are oppressed because of the backwardness of conservative, religious folk and Western women are liberated because of their advanced society — and high school girls liked guys that treated them badly. Right? I’m probably not going to be proved wrong later in this course.

            “Let’s go around the table and share stories of our experience relating to the subject of the course.”

            That combination of words hit me like cold water hits the face. The professor was draped in a black scarf garnished with intertwined foliage and a black cardigan huddling the scarf. Her face was warm and the red in her cheeks was reminiscent of the dying embers of a fireplace.

The professor intended to inspire participation with her opening sentence. She has gotten my attention, but not for the reason she intended. Suffice it to say, I skipped my turn.

            While my classmates spoke about gender-related issues that they’ve faced in the past — some of which went beyond the realm of ‘issues’ and fell, smack dab, into the field of  ‘tragedies’ — I was just sitting there, eating the sweetest muffin I have ever tasted in my life. That was when I noticed that most of my classmates were girls — typical.

            There must have been about fourteen students, and most of them had contributed to the professor’s devilish whim. I had made a couple of these faces familiar thanks to my Study Abroad Mentoring program. I noticed, all of a sudden, that there was a pause while the professor looked around to see if anyone else was eager enough to be next to share a story. That moment of silence was deafening, like the sharpness of a sword, ever so subtly, ringing in the air after it’s been unsheathed, like a crescendo until it is a ringing in the ears; snippets of past memories overlapped each other in my head.

            “I want my son to be a man! not a little bitch!” shouted my father in my head at a memory of a crying, 12-year-old version of myself.

            My temples throbbed and it got slightly hotter under my fedora hat — I could almost hear whistling, like that of a kettle, coming out of my pores. I was getting ready to relieve my tension and reveal one of my stories. My mouth dropped and I held my breath, but I was too late; the silence was broken. The professor had moved on and started explaining the purpose of this activity. I had faded into the background, and I wondered how many other people felt like me. I’ve had heard of rape cases going unreported in the UAE, and I wondered how horrible they must feel to not be able to express themselves or trust anyone. Suddenly, this class has changed my life forever.

II

            Believe it or not, I have always prided myself on being a self-proclaimed feminist. I obviously had no idea what I was talking about. Even if I really were, by any definition, a feminist, I would never really understand the reality of being a woman. I never thought twice about the fact that my father would not let my sister study criminology, her dream subject, simply because she is a woman. I never stopped to wonder why, after eleven o’clock at night, I was surrounded by a group of guy friends and all my women friends had to be at home. Perhaps worst of all,  I never batted an eye at the amount of inspections a girl’s outfit has to pass before she can leave the house — and the judgement does not even stop at the front porch of the house.

            This class was my ticket to at least beginning to understand the trials and tribulations of women, understand why my father thought a man and a ‘bitch’ were perfectly dualistic. Ultimately, this class would prove to be an awe-inspiring experience that would have me thinking about the rights of, not only women, but men and children as well, of all races and all ages. This is a class that would allow one, if he/she gives it a chance, to open his/her eyes to issues concerning human rights.

III

            A couple of weeks into the course, we started learning about women in the context of religion, society, and politics. The professor came into class chock-full of various articles for us to read. They helped me understand different situations for women in different countries in the MENA region. I remember this one article in particular that spoke about the scholars in the genders field.

            “The difference between the modernist and post-modernist approach is that post-modernist scholars contextualize their findings, observations, approaches, and methods. They acknowledge that every single situation differs depending on the people involved or the environment.”

            I wondered why modernism was still relevant amongst the presence of post-modernism; post-modernism just seemed more logical to me. I remembered how I used to think that Middle Eastern women have it bad compared to Western women and, without thinking, slapped my face with my open palm hoping that the impact shook the last sliver of ignorance out of my face. When I removed my hand, I noticed that my friend, Ermida, was sporting an uneasy smile and a raised eyebrow.

            “You alright?” she asked, eyebrow raised even higher.

            “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I’m rocking this social interaction business.

            The prefix “post” means “after,” which suggests looking into the future. So post-modernism, in essence is the approach of the future. I now understand, because of this newly-learned phrase, that it I am not justified to assume that all Middle Eastern women are oppressed; What about the women that helped in the revolutions at tahrir square? What about writers like Leila Ahmed, who attempt to promote feminism by interpreting actual text from holy books? What of all these women? The journey, in its essence, that Middle Eastern women, and women all over the world as well, have traveled in order to get to the position they are in now is a testament to women’s capabilities and determination.

III

            “It is not enough to study the past for the sake of the past; It is important to study the past with a critical mind and hopes to learn from our own mistakes and achieve a better future.” This was something my professor always stressed.

            After we were done with women in religion and societies, our class started to take a look at the women of prehistoric times — our foremothers. The findings, and everything else I learnt from these few classes, only contributed to how life-changing and eye-opening this course was.

            I was surprised to learn, that the most advanced society, in terms of equality between genders, was ancient Egypt. Ancient Egyptian women, like men, were allowed to work outside the house, own and rent property, become heads of state, choose their own husbands, and choose decline marriage proposals they do not want. It is not exactly clear why this system did not carry on, but women seem to be getting a glimpse of a new dawn in their lives, just within their reach.

IV

            I was raised to be tough and not care too much about anything. So I hope my father does not disown me for expressing my feelings towards this subject. I was always taught that the woman’s body was sacred and valuable. Every time I asked about why women get treated differently, I would get an answer somewhere along the lines of that excuse — and also, “it is a man’s job to protect a woman,” or “a woman would be lost without a man.” However, what I was seeing was not that. It was almost the opposite.

            A man only knows what he thinks is best for his beautiful daughter — as a husband knows about his wife, or a brother about his sister — but does he ever think that maybe his intentions have been distorted and that the lines of loving protectiveness and obsessive possessiveness have been blurred into each other? A father may be wanting to protect his daughter from rapists and criminals, as any father should, but does it take trapping her in her room and enforcing stringent rules and guidelines that may get in the way of her passions and life decisions?

            If a woman’s body is so valuable, why must some women be forced behind veils, learning to be ashamed of their bodies, never being able to meet a man officially on their own, or explore any career options that interest them? Furthermore, why is it taboo, in the Middle East, for a man to dress up as a woman (that is, assuming that there is a way to dress that is strictly ‘woman-like’)? Is it that representing oneself as a woman is a shameful act? So, it’s ‘cute’ to let a woman have her fun, pretending to be empowered in her boots and jeans, but why would a man put himself down by resembling a woman or putting on a dress?

            In the words of Shereen El Feki during a TED Talk called ‘a little-told tale of sex and sensuality,’ “The women, they are becoming more and more open. But the man, he is still at the prehistoric stage.” A man would link his honor and dignity to his clothing and his reputation, a father would link his honor to an anatomical piece in his daughter’s body. Men just like to be the first to play with their toys; that is why it is relatively alright for a men to have had affairs with women before marriage, but the women he has defiled are no longer fits to be married.

V

            I know that by the end of this course, I will be a changed man. I already felt the winds of change blowing my hair back since the first time the clock hit 4:00pm on the dot in that class. If I weren’t such a closed up, bottled mess, I would hug my professor, for being like a mother to me. She has enlightened me and has never given me reason to be intimidated by her.

            Her content was always fulfilling. Now, thanks to her, I am the odd one out in the family, whom everyone watches what they say around — I am chock-full of information about human rights. Hopefully, one day, I would contribute in the further liberation of women all over the world.

Breaking Stereotypes

I am Ermida Koduah, a young woman from New York City. This spring I studied in the American University in Dubai. Taking the Women & Gender in the Middle East course this semester has helped me view the Middle East in a more positive way. I see the similarities between here and my own culture, and envision myself as a future feminist leader.

  Before Dubai

            In the United States, there is a huge misconception that ALL women in the MENA region are abused, deprived of education, suppressed, submissive and want to be saved.  There is this stigma that if we see a woman covered from head to toe she is automatically seen as a threat to American security or suppressed.  The media does not help suppress or educate us on what really goes on in the Middle East. I will admit, there was a time when I had this feeling that ALL the women in the Middle East were suppressed and I might be the one to save them.

However, I wanted to personally meet women from the Middle East to fully be aware of this suppression I constantly heard of in the US. Therefore, before coming to Dubai, I did a little research on the social life of females in the UAE. I was well aware and assured of how liberal the country was. However, some of my peers did not even know where Dubai was. When I told them it was in the Middle East they had this conception that I would have to be covered at all times. On some occasions they would make jokes like, “Make sure you don’t get kidnapped” or “Don’t let a 40 year old man trap you into marrying him”. I would laugh but I would constantly have to explain to them that labeling this region of the world is what I was trying to stop myself from doing.

However, I had a shocking experience of ignorance when my boss at work tried to tell me how I would have to dress and behave in Dubai. She told me on two occasion, “Ermida, you know you’re going to a part of the world where women have to behave and dress a certain way”. I was shocked at the fact that this women who had a PHD could be so ignorant and not know anything about Dubai yet feel the need to give me inaccurate advice. I understood her concern but for goodness sake I was going to Dubai. All these factors can make it very hard for someone like myself to stereotype women of a particular area.

Being in Dubai

            My perception of women in the Middle East began to change in the third class. We were shown a photo that represented two extremist views on women in the MENA region. The top shows a women who is dressed like a belly dancer & the bottom is a woman covered from head to toe, only showing her eyes. The photo caught my attention because I was used to seeing these two types of extremes in the US. In my head I said “This is the course I need to help break this stereotype of MENA women. This is where I will begin to comprehend women’s rights in this region.” That class began to show me that there are different types of women in the Middle East. Yes, there were some areas where a woman is forced to be covered from head to toe, however, there are other cases as well.   Some women purposely choose to be covered due to religious reasons. Other women wear a abaya. I have come to realize that clothing does not automatically tell the story of a woman’s behavior.  In addition, I have come to realize my idea of “saving” women in the Middle East should have been thought out better. The women here have begun to speak out against the injustices and although it is not exactly the same as Western society does not mean there has not been progress.

Trips

            I was privileged enough to go on two trips this semester that have continued to help me understand the different types of women in the MENA region. The first trip the class went on was the Women’s Museum in Deira. The tour guides were so enthusiastic and well educated. I learned about Sheikha  Salma bin Butti and her huge influence in the United Arab Emirates. Although she was not the ruler of the UAE, she used her leadership skills to help her sons rule over the country.  Because of her, her sons did not use violence against one another and highly encouraged their partnership in ruling the UAE. I saw pictures of amazing Emirati women of the past and present. To end the trip, the tour guides showed us a video of women who were educated in the UAE. Watching them laughing, studying and working hard made me connect with them.  What I enjoyed the most was the post card they gave us. It stated “Don’t think because we are covered we are not empowered.” This idea that ALL women of the Middle East did not have any say in governance began to slowly fade away.  Generalizing the women of the MENA and putting them into a category was very ignorant of myself. I wanted to learn more about different types of women in the Middle East and their views on feminism. This encouraged me to interact with the young women in my university more often. I always asked the friends I made in AUD so many questions about their religion, their views on being veiled and their own personal experiences.

The second trip I went on was to Art Dubai 2015. There were so many paintings that caught my eye, in particular two artworks. The first was by an Italian man. He took photos of women who have participated in protests for women rights.  The artist took photos of these women to capture a sense of courage. These women just want peace and equality in their lives and countries. Each picture of a woman has a word underneath. For example, “Network” is written under the woman doing the peace sign. Each word describes the movement, what it wants to achieve and the women who are fighting for their rights.

The second painting I saw did not necessarily represent feminism at first glance, however it spoke to me in a peculiar way. I saw myself in the painting.  The eye stood out to me because it looked worried yet assured at the same time. The lips looked very firm yet relaxed at the same time. I saw myself in the painting because it seemed like the artist was trying to portray a woman torn between two different emotions.  The past few months, I was trying to figure out the woman I currently am and who I want to become.  I was smuggling with the idea of whether I was a feminist or not. I would ask myself “What would it mean to me if I say I am a feminist? What type of feminist will I become?  How will society perceive me with my new added characteristics? Am I well educated enough to debate my point of views to those who do not understand my stance on women rights?”

            Being in this class has also made me realize that I have come to discover that I have always been a feminist, however, I never fully acknowledged it. In the US, whenever I was asked if I was a feminist I would say “I am still figuring out”. My idea of feminism was based on the extremist views. For example, I believed most feminist hated men and were not married. However, I realized that the true meaning of feminism is equality for all and that there are various types of feminists.

            I did not understand the true meaning of feminism and gender stereotypes have been in my life. For instance, when I was in my mother’s womb, I was a very energetic fetus that constantly jumped around. My parents assumed I was a boy due to my hyper active behavior. They went for sonograms that revealed I was a girl and they could not understand how my fetus behavior did not match up to my gender.  “How does a hyper active fetus automatically conclude that I am a boy?”  Another instance occasionally occurred when I was younger. Around the ages of 6-12, I used to love fixing things in the house. Whenever my parents bought a new device, I would be the one to fix it and explain to them how to properly use it. My mom would often say to me “Oh Ermida, you should have been a boy”. I knew she was joking but at that young age I hated when she would say those words. I did not understand why I needed to be a boy in order for it to be acceptable to fix devices. Once I reached 12 years old, I was annoyed by her comment and I just stopped fixing things around the house. I would make excuses that I did not understand what the manual was telling me to do or that I had too much homework. Now that I look back, I wish I could have stood up for myself and told my mother that girls can also do things that boys could do. Today, I often wonder, if I stood up for myself and continued fixing things in my house would I have become a successful engineer or something along that field of study.

            Defining myself as a feminist has been something I struggled with for almost 2 years. I believed that feminism was a good thing, however, I always heard of stereotypes that would drift me away from considering myself to be a feminist.  For instance, I had this idea that feminists had no concept of morals. Taking Women & Gender in the Middle East made me aware of how diverse feminism is. I feared that my religious faith would clash with my feminist idea, however, I learned that there are religious feminists.

Similarities between Social Issues in the Middle East and My Own Culture

            Although I was raised in the US, my parents always raised me like traditional Ghanaian parents. I have come to notice certain issues discussed in class that I would say are present in our own culture as well. For example, sex is not spoken about freely amongst parents and their daughters.  My parents never spoke to me about sex, how it is performed and the right way to have sex. The few instances that sex was mentioned to me, it was always mentioned in a negative way.  I always wondered why it was seen as such a taboo to discuss sex in my house compared to some of my other Americans peers.  As a result, I have watched cousins and family friends engaged in unsafe sex.

            Another similarity I noticed was the theory of how men were able to have greater power in the political field than women. According to an article by Leila Ahmed, inequalities between men and women reached its peak when colonial powers had control of the MENA region. There was a new system of hierarchy: Colonialists ruled men, men ruled over women and children.  The idea that colonial power introduced sexism is also a theory that I learned in my Africana Studies class back in New York.  I learned that in pre-colonial times, men and women in Ghana were seen as equals due to the fact that men and women both worked on the land they lived on. Men were the hunter-gatherers and women were the farmers. Once the British colonized present day Ghana, men became in charge of the land that women were farming on. British governors gave men education and status in society, therefore the men ruled over the women who worked on the farms.

            Lastly, gay rights is another social issue that has similar attributes. In class, we watched a documentary on a young lesbian female who lives in Abu Dhabi. We were given a chance to see the double life she lives on a daily basis. Her parents were conservative Muslims who were not accepting of her past relationship with a female.  She had to lie to her parents every weekend about going out because she knew they would not approve. This story is very common among the Ghanaians I know in New York. Being gay is not accepted in our community and is often seen as demonic. It hurts me when I hear and see this because I have very close friends who are a part of the LGBQT community and I wish my Ghanaian community could understand how hard it is to be secretly gay.

            I believe feminism in the Middle East is truly coming to a rise in many diverse ways. Coming from the US, I understand why certain women feel the need to “save” women in the Middle East.  There is this idea that the women of the MENA are incapable of fighting for their rights so we should come and rescue them. The Western concept of liberation sometimes involves forcing women to not be covered.  However, from my observations, I believe we cannot “save” an entire region with extremist ways for two reasons. One reason is the fact that the Middle East is a diverse region. Every country has different rules and laws that affect women. My second reason is extremism might just further delay the process of advancing women’s rights in the MENA region. I know women’s rights will gradually come, however, it will not happen overnight. In the US, women began fighting for their rights around the end of the civil war. Women were not allowed to vote until the 1920s.It took almost a century for American women to have the right to vote. Instead of trying to “save” the women of the MENA region, we should instead partner, support and listen to what they want instead of labeling a stereotype that they want to be saved.

 
 

Women and Ambition: Don't you Dare Reach for the Stars

Growing up I remember watching a very popular Egyptian play by the name of Madraset el Moshaghbeen. The play tells a story about a classroom of boys who have been labeled misfits due to their low academic level and behavioral issues. Most teachers who attempt to teach this class of students quit after a few days due to the misfits’ constant pranking. When a well-educated woman, Esmat, finally comes forward and offers to teach the five mischievous boys, she is met with several obstacles purely due to her gender. The first obstacle entails the schools’ administration laughing in her face when she applied for the job, mainly a male principal telling her that a schoolteacher job is no position for a woman. The school’s principal goes so far as to flirt with her and propose marriage, all the while emphasizing that she would be better off staying at home to cater to him. When the well-read woman threatens to let the union know that the administration doesn’t want to hire her because of her gender, they give in and offer her the job.

The second obstacle Esmat endures is that the five belligerent students consider her to be a complete joke; when first introduced, they couldn’t believe that a woman was going to be their teacher. They go so far as to not listen to her lessons and instructions while pulling pranks to undermine the ambitious woman.

The third obstacle, as most of us can unfortunately assume, involves sexual harassment. Not only did the five male students underestimate and disregard their teacher’s expertise, but also they all developed an inappropriate crush on her. Each student tries to woo the teacher in his own way. On one specific occasion, one of the boys rips Esmat’s shirt open, inappropriately exposing her to himself and his four classmates.

When I was a child, watching this play was a little bit of a family tradition. My whole family would gather and we would watch Madraset el Moshaghbeen together until our faces turned red with laughter. I can confidently say that this play isn’t only popular in my household, but in all of Egypt and most Middle Eastern countries. I can also confidently say that most people see Madraset el Moshaghbeen as a fun-loving, classic comedy. Even I once saw the Egyptian play as the biggest laughter-inducer ever.

A few weeks ago, I was indulging in family tradition and watching the play I knew so well. I was laughing at the scene where one of the students, Bahgat, was flirting with his teacher in a way that no man should ever flirt with a woman. Then I allowed myself to think, why is this okay? Better yet, why am I laughing at this? I applied the scene to my life; I have been catcalled by men before and I know how demeaning it is and how angry it makes me. But here I am laughing at this scene despite the fact that if I saw this happen in real life, I would be disgusted.

I kept this train of thought in my mind as I watched the rest of the play and I made an unfortunate discovery: all the jokes in the play were made at the expense of Esmat. Her character stays enigmatic to audiences and she’s never explored as the men in the production are; the only thing we know about her as we’re watching is that she is a woman who is in way over her head because she’s ambitious. I felt that this play represented how women are viewed in some societies: surface creatures with no depth and no right to strive to achieve their dreams. At this point, I resented the play I had known and loved for years. This play hit close to home and I had never realized it before.

Ever since I was old enough to talk, I started making huge plans for myself. I would become a psychiatrist, a lawyer, a news reporter, and CEO of my own company; I wanted it all. As a child, I didn’t understand the limitations I would come to experience as a woman brought up in a traditional Egyptian family. I considered myself the equal of all of the boys in my class. My father would often tell me, “Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something because you’re a girl.” I lived in this bubble of perfection for years, so you can imagine how much of a rude awakening I had when I came of age.

The first time I learned what my society felt about me, I was 12. I was spending the summer in Egypt and I noticed that most of my relatives were avoiding me. One night, my grandfather sat me down and told me that my personality is too domineering for a girl. He emphasized that I should possess the qualities of a lady. I should be soft-spoken. I should be there to help with breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all the clean ups and snacks in between. I should be careful not to have opinions or express them too firmly, because it isn’t lady-like to do so. If I didn’t make sure to do all these things, people wouldn’t want to associate with me. Worse, no man would ever want to marry me. “You should work on making your personality as beautiful as your face,” my grandfather said. Those words still haunt me. I never became a lady in my grandfather’s eyes and I don’t plan on it.

One of the most hurtful aspects of my bubble of perfection being destroyed involves my father and his sudden change of heart. Although my father was my biggest cheerleader when I was a child, he became my greatest challenge as an adolescent. I had virtually no social life because it seemed that everything was a danger to a teenage girl. Little by little, I fought back until I was able to get the social life I knew I deserved. As a junior in university, I became the public relations officer of the student government association. I was so excited to get the chance to hold such a position and make some changes in my school. Unfortunately, every time I had a meeting or an event I had to attend, my father would give me such a hard time. On one particular occasion, I was a semester into my term as public relations officer and my father picked me up from university after an event that ended at 8:30 pm. “Tomorrow you’re going to resign from the SGA,” he said once I got in the car. When I asked why, he said, “Because I said so.”

I can understand a father who worries for his daughter’s safety. I can also understand a father who believes that his daughter’s extracurricular activities are getting in the way of her grades. However, I was neither risking my life nor sacrificing my grades; I had just gotten a 4.0 g.p.a last semester. And I most certainly shouldn’t be limited in my achievements because of what might happen to me. I remember feeling the angriest I’ve ever felt, especially when I reminded myself that if I was a man, I would never have to deal with this type of situation. But I never gave up. I made it clear to my father that he should be proud of me and that I would never quit anything that I wanted to do because someone told me I should. The irony was that he had encouraged me to follow this advice just a few short years ago. What is it about young women trying to better themselves that makes men so nervous?

Due to my feelings on the empowerment of women, I jumped at the chance of taking a class called, Women and Gender in the Middle East, this semester. As a woman from a Middle Eastern background, I was interested in seeing what I can learn from this class. In January, the class had a field trip to the Women’s Museum in Deira. We were going to learn about the accomplishments of women in the Gulf. To be honest, I didn’t have the slightest idea of how women in the Gulf had contributed to the fabrication of the UAE, but I was excited to learn.

 The Women’s Museum is located within the Gold Souk in Deira. As soon as you enter, you see a combination of modern and traditional UAE designs. All over the walls are pictures of women who have contributed to UAE politics, literature, media, economy, education, sports, medicine, and art. I’m ashamed to say it, but I didn’t think that women had much of a say in the Gulf, and I never imagined that so many of them had made strides in their respective fields.

Sheikha Lubna Bint Khalid Al Qasimi was the most interesting woman I learned about at the Women’s Museum. Sheikha Lubna joined the government in 2004 as Minister of Economy, making her the first woman to hold a cabinet position in the UAE. She was also appointed Minister of Foreign Trade in 2008 and Minister of International cooperation and Development in 2013. Sheikha Lubna’s responsibilities don’t stop there; she is also a Board Director at the Emirates Nuclear Energy Corporation, a Board Director at the Emirates Foundation for Youth Development, a member of the Board of Trustees of the Dubai School of Government, and Co-Founder and Board Member of the Friends of Cancer Patients. I’m sure that Sheikha Lubna faced some type of opposition in her quest to become who she is today; the thought is comforting and inspiring.

As a woman with enough ambition to span the Great Wall of China three times over, I will always find it baffling when women give in to societal pressures and sacrifice their potential to live lives that were chosen for them. I believe that women should be allowed to do whatever they would like to do, and that society doesn’t have a say in our decisions.

I’m under the impression that the culture I come from allows me to be ambitious within the parameters allotted to me. As in, be ambitious, but not too much. But I will never let anyone decide what I should or shouldn’t do. I trust my instincts and my dreams; to ignore them would be certain death for me. I was never created to be a soft-spoken lady or someone’s trophy wife. As a young girl, I never dreamt of a big wedding with a white dress and a handsome husband. I dreamt of success, I dreamt of being taken seriously, and I dreamt of a life that is much different from the one my relatives accept. I don’t mind if anyone resents me for my way of thinking. As long as I’m happy with myself, I’m fine.

Attache-moi?

Photo du film d’Almodovar “Attache-moi”

On en a trop parlé de ce sujet qui nous turlupine à un point tel de nous donner un vertige tenace. La femme libanaise, ses joues refaites, ses rondeurs surfaites, son 4×4 avançant contre vents et marées (de pauvres bagnoles qui pétaradent sur l’autoroute) avec l’envie cuisante d’arriver à point à ce rendez-vous de beauté… La denture faut la décrasser… les critères d’Hollywood sont bien drastiques! Les tiffes, faut pas qu’ils se rebiffent contre leur maîtresse! Les ongles cassants, faut leur trouver l’onguent idéal: “ultimate shine”, les paupières faut pas qu’elles se prélassent sur leurs paires d’yeux retracés au Khôl… Une injection de Botox s’impose, pour pas que le stress implose et fasse une éruption de lassitude aux alentours de leurs yeux de biche (Oh ma biche!)… Les boutons qui poussent au grand dam de la nature de leur peau idéale, paraffinée à coups de pinceau de fond de teint, sculptée par les touches (mal)habiles du bistouri des toubibs Sganarellesques, médecins volants, sans scrupules… faut les éradiquer, les désinfecter, les envoyer valser… Etc, etc.

Revenons à nos (b)moutons purulents aujourd’hui, à l’existence menacée, à l’Apocaypse proche, à l’extermination fatidique,à, à, à… Ah! Que dis-je?! La femme menacée dans son existence!? Mais non! A moins qu’elle ne soit un reste de vestiges mésopotamiens! Mais elle demeure le rejeton inférieur d’une redondance du chromosme X… Elle, c’est XX, attachée fatalement au rêve “XY”ien.

“Attache-moi! Je ne sais pas s’il faut délier mes chaînes!”, dit-elle comme l’héroïne junkie éprise d’Antonio Banderas, dans le film “Attache-moi” de Pedro Almodovar. Passons au sérieux. Nous avons parfois la sale habitude de verser dans nos salves de diatribes en passant à côté de la plaque! Alors, c’est quoi au juste ce phénomène que nous venons très ostensiblement de nommer: “Attache-moi!”?

La femme libanaise et orientale est arrivée à un moment où sa condition, à comparer avec les décennies précédentes, est presque satisafaisante. (Presque, dis-je). Allons!!! Elle peut prétendre à l’éducation, conclure un mariage civil avec consentement de son partenaire, travailler au lieu de rester confinée avec ses pots d’aubergines dans son foyer familial idéal (mon oeil!)… Elle n’a plus qu’à se libérer du poids de l’”INTERDIT”, cet interdit bien entériné avec les inhibitions surmoïques, les exigences parentales, religieuses et sociales. Elle a tout pour s’émanciper, surtout l’indépendance financière qui lui est donnée grâce à son travail. Elle a les diplômes qu’elle entasse, je ne sais dans quel but! Elle a la force de caractère qu’elle pourrait manifester loin des salons où l’on discute du denrier défilé de mode à Paris ou à Mila. Pourquoi s’obstine-t-elle à implorer la gent masculine (qu’on aime… oui! Mais… pas toute. Pantoute!): “Attache-moi!” Serait-elle masochiste, froussarde… Ne veut-elle pas prendre la clé des champs et défier le monde et elle-même avant tout? En commençant par dire “Non”? C’est simple comme bonjour. Dire “Non” à l’avenir que la famille bourgeoise, le clan, l’entourage curieux lui ont planifié? “Non” aux valeurs étriquées qu’on lui a inculquées au biberon? “Non” à l’homme qui veut l’attacher par les liens maritaux au foyer et rien qu’au foyer?

“Détache-moi. Tu ne veux pas? Tant pis!”. Voilà la nouvelle banderole qui devrait être brandie. Ceci ne tient qu’à un fil!

عودة

لماذا لا تبكي

فتصبح ساقية مساري نحو آنية المستحيل؟

لماذا لا تسامر من لا يعرف من اسمي سوى شذا الكذب

يملأ يدَي رجلٍ كرهه روّاد مقاهي الميناء

فاستنشق عبير الغَيب، وغرق في آخر بطاقةٍ

 حملت آخر كلماتي؟

لماذا لا تضع كيودي العديدة بين صفحات مذكراتك

فتغدو ملاذاً لأنفس شوارعنا

تحملها القطط الضالة

تلعقها الكلاب الشاردة

وتهزأ منها الجواحر المتنسّكة

حين يبصقها الليل فتتنزّه على غدير العائلات البالية

تخفي في أحضان أطفالها ملكوت الأمّهات المجرّحة

يعاتبها الجنس ويكاذبها والدٌ لم يولد ورجلٌ تبدّد؟

لماذا لا تحمل بقايا كؤوسي الناحبة

فترقص معها وتضمّها إلى صدرك الأبكم

تداعبه فتُفرغ دمه، تلوّن به الشموع المتبقيّة

وتنفخ فيه رياحُ لقاءاتنا الماضية

فتظهر كلماتي على أثير مدينتي الملوّثة العاقلة

تحدّق بها سطوح الأبنية المقرصِنة

لا تفتأ تسلب من السماء توقها نحو جحود أجسادٍ

خشيت حبي فأحببتها؟

لماذا لا تقتلني اليوم ثانيةً

فتعود إلي  بين آخر الحرائق

وأعود إلى نفسي الفاتنة المشرِكة؟

Moi, ma féminité et mon féminisme

Je suis née par hasard. D’une rencontre fortuite entre un spermatozoïde pétulant et tenace et un ovule paresseux bien niché, dans une chaleur salutaire, dans son univers utérin. Fille d’un brassage chromosomique, d’un partage de bagage héréditaire porté par une femme bien rangée, de bonne famille et surtout mère de famille dévouée et prête à tout offrir et à s’offrir pour le bonheur de sa famille et de son mari… Bagage héréditaire transmis aussi d’un père, qui s’est toujours inféodé pour la cause humanitaire alors que le Liban passait de Charybde en Scylla pendant une guerre civile sanglante, poète dans son adolescence et féru de oud et de musique orientale.

Le résultat fut : une fille brune, toujours souriante même quand la vie lui assène claque après claque, rêveuse à un point tel qu’elle passe d’une chimère à l’autre sans transition aucune, en s’appropriant le rêve comme si ça relevait de la vraie vie… Mais dans la « vie en vraie », comme le dit si bien ma chère Anne Sylvestre, « le scénario se déroule sans anicroche… mais quand le mot fin s’allume on n’est pas étonné. » Ainsi, le mot « fin », « fine », « the end », « Al Nihaya » s’est allumé à maintes reprises dans ma vie dans toutes les langues possibles même en portoricain ! Toujours, abandonnée sur un rivage incertain, je refaisais mes bagages et je repartais, en vadrouille, vers de nouveaux horizons inconnus et aussi brumeux que le passé orageux que je viens de laisser languissant derrière mon dos.

Ainsi, jusqu’alors, ma vie n’a jamais été une vie… Ce n’était que des fins qui s’égrenaient et des jours que je percevais comme des chapitres parfois écrits avec un style médiocre comme celui de Marc Lévy, pessimiste comme celui de Houellebecq, onirique comme la plume  grandiose de Baudelaire, hérétique comme les envolées noires de Lautréamont… Ma vie : ce n’était qu’un combat. Tout d’abord timide et où les sons des canons étaient étouffés par la sécurité du foyer familial… Ensuite, acharnée. Moi… il fallait que je joue des coudes pour poursuivre mes passions, aussi lutines que quand j’ai été petite et que je courais après les papillons dans les champs de la Béqaa avec une insouciance, presque naïve.

L’insouciance… je suis tellement insouciante que j’en deviens angoissée. Insouciante quand il s’agit de religion. Les homélies ne me font plus tressaillir… Je n’en ai que faire. Dieu, je ne le trouve nulle part… du moins, pas dans les églises ni dans les mosquées. Insouciante quand la pression du travail augmente au point de m’étouffer dans son étreinte fatale… Insouciante, parce que toujours, mon regard biais scrute cet au-delà où mes idoles me saluent et me consolent en m’invitant à un petit thé comme dans le pays des merveilles d’Alice : le chapelier est souriant, le lapin toujours à la bourre… Cet au-delà chimérique où les paradoxes font fi des normes, où la sensualité et l’insoutenable légèreté de l’être côtoient l’esprit et sa rigueur obsessionnelle, où les idées licencieuses vivent en symbiose avec la philosophie dans un lacis complexe comme le revers d’une broderie où les fils s’emmêlent anarchiquement…

Moi… Je suis tout et rien. Mais surtout et avant tout je suis femme et féminine.

Femme quand j’aime à m’en briser le cœur… rapiécé, recousu, rafistolé à maintes reprises.

Quand je pleure toujours à la même scène de « Cinema Paradiso » quand Totò revient assister à la démolition de son havre d’enfance où sa passion est née. Son havre est aussi le mien, par procuration…

Quand les yeux exorbités, je me cloue devant une vitrine d’une joaillerie turque admirant les pierres précieuses et essayant d’imaginer leur Odyssée avant qu’elles ne débarquent dans ce taudis bordélique de bijoux.

Femme quand je me lance dans une mer houleuse tout en sachant que mes bras fluets ne pourront jamais apprivoiser les vagues écumeuses.

Moi, féminine… Je suis aussi féministe.

Féministe contre la violence domestique et les mentalités vermoulues de quelques hommes et femmes de la pire des engeances,

Féministe avec la représentation de la femme au sein des institutions étatiques,

Féministe, main dans la main avec les hommes pour transformer Beyrouth et le Liban, en un creuset rayonnant pour les cultures,

Féministe avec la libération du corps du joug des tabous…

Ton corps et à toi, femme libanaise, tatoue-le, écoute ses soupirs et ses revendications… N’hésite pas à l’offrir à ce bar tender ensorceleur qui te charme alors que tu essaies de noyer ta tristesse dans ton martini sec… Laisse-le vibrer de plaisir à défaut de sentiments.

Sois ! Toi, ta féminité et ton féminisme une Trinité imperturbable… Et les portes de l’Enfer ne prévaudront pas contre elle !