March
8th 2016
The First Battlefield
It’s
International Women’s Day but it doesn’t really feel like it anywhere in this
world. My grandfather sat before the television, watching sports news (one of
his top picks considering his past involvement with the Olympics). On the
screen were women racing on a track field in the skimpiest outfits possible. I
couldn’t quite fathom the equation. None of the male racers had to wear “shirts”
that revealed their chiseled midriff and bikini shorts that accentuated their
seat curves and thighs, so why do the women? On top of that, all the male
sportscasters could discuss was the winner’s miraculous ability to win despite
her recent absence due to giving birth—and while she did win, she wasn’t up to
par according to their expectations. In the 21st Century we seem to
be moving backward not forward.
I
finished my tea and moved around the house, thinking about this day, hearing
the crowd gather in the floor beneath me. Our neighbor passed away last night
and it left us all in a numbing shock, reminiscing on her great and legendary
life. She was an older woman who ensured that we felt like family. That was the
greatest part of this building—the three families, that each lived on a floor,
were one family…are one family. We live fluidly across each level and that’s
how my mother grew up.
The
funeral march began around 12:45 p.m. and it sent shivers up and down my spine
to hear the announcement made via speakerphone on the streets—a common Arab
tradition. It felt too surreal. They called out her name, the name of her late
husband and the name of her children, ending with a request that the community
members and passersby pray for her. As I obliged, I began deeply contemplating
us women, Syrian women to be precise, and what our role has been rewritten (by
those other than us) to include.
Towards
the very end of the film Green Zone,
“Freddy” tells Miller a very simple yet vividly powerful statement. “It is not for you to
decide what happens here.” He left me in awe and I thought, “Absolutely!” but I
took this quote in on a variety of different levels.
Imagine
a world where, as a whole, humanity learns this very nifty skill called Letting
Others Be. Let’s take a moment to savor this painfully unattainable fantasy.
Envision a planet where first world countries don’t automatically ordain
themselves the saviors of third world nations and end up leaving them in
shambles far worse than their original state. Envision a place where a
government truly was for the people and therefore allowed its citizens to
exercise their human rights.
Anna
Julia Cooper—the only woman and only African American quoted in the redesigned
U.S. Passports (Huffington Post, 2012)—beautifully said, “The cause of freedom
is not the cause of race or a sect, a party or a class—it is the cause of
humankind, the very birthright of humanity.” This couldn’t be farther from the
reality we are witnessing today.
In
my opinion, if you want to win a war or create a greater nation or establish a
better life, the notion that man is superior to woman must once and for all be
abandoned. I believe a great majority of what I’m witnessing in my homeland
(and many other places) comes from the decades and decades of the
marginalization of women. Men and women are equal and I can’t believe this
phrase even has to be continuously reiterated to far too many ignorant minds in
existence. For further clarification, equal does not mean identical. It is
indeed our diversity in the two sexes that makes us equal. We women are the other
half of society, thus our exile means the demise of life. And as Cooper says,
the birthright of freedom is the
cause of humankind. This cause is why we need feminism, especially out here,
and it is our responsibility to one another.
While
sexism is prevalent in almost every other culture out there, I’ve seen it run
especially deep in mine unfortunately and it’s actually become a legendary
trademark. So much so that twice I had non-Syrian Arab guys use the following pickup
line with epic failure: “I’ve been told to marry a Syrian girl because she
apparently makes the best kind of wife.” What am I? Some type of ingredient in
a recipe? Like hey, you know, bleached flour makes for a better kind of bread. Within seconds, I burst
their fantasy bubbles. That truth is inapplicable to me.
The
(traditional) Syrian girl is every misogynists dream come true because she
was born and raised with the idea that God created her solely to serve man. The
first is her father, then her husband once married, then her son after giving
birth. Then she dies. She does no more and no less. She is the ideal homemaker
and trophy wife who never argues or disagrees. She is The Stepford Wife and
therefore dares not cross any lines of thinking, talking or acting.
I
did not grow up this way. My mother, the revolutionary that she is, instilled
within me this radical scandalous notion that I am human. That I matter and I can and will make a difference in this
world. That I am not some submissive lost soul in search for my other
half, but a whole person living my life. A partner is indeed welcome, but not a
necessity.
People—like
many males and traditional females—disapprove of said belief system and
ideology. Of course, it threatens their dictatorships, the way many of these
marriages function today. It threatens the cheap foundations of weak men and
envious women. It takes away their undeserved power. It’s a shame they fail to
see the substantial value a woman can add to their lives—and not by being
locked up in her home, prevented from being a contributing member in society.
For
years and years they have successfully stunted the mental growth of too many
young women, keeping them busy on things like soap operas and plastic surgeries
(yes, commonalities in Syria) because women are not often welcome to pursue
more. This was recently disclosed to me by a group of women here. Instead of
building a platform for women to finally roll up their sleeves and give their
diverse input to better the neighborhoods, communities, cities, districts and
the nation, they’re being spoon-fed a false manual to life. Does the world fail
to recognize the immense value a woman can bring to the (metaphorical) table across
every field of life or does the world purposefully have a hidden agenda to
destroy itself piece by piece?
Following
this revolution, I have to come to see some rays of light, some powerful women
who finally got tired of having their mouths taped and are breaking through the
darkness to leave an imprint for a better world. Women who have been thrust
into this war and have led efforts to protect others, raise awareness and funds
for others, cook and clean to serve the homeless, and much more. Women who
understand that their education and stability come first before marriage.
Women who are completely content with living independently because they realize
their success and value is not tied with a man, but with what they offer
humanity.
This
machismo filled culture needs to be eradicated. I assumed that it had throughout
this turmoil but as I explore Syria I have found that the men have not changed
their catcalling, stalking and harassing women in the streets. I hadn’t even
been in Syria four days before I got a marriage proposal through the
dysfunctional Arab matchmaking machine. Our culture has this thing where they
simply match any breathing living female with any breathing living male. I am
fresh meat, on war torn soil, with an American citizenship. My past is moot at
this point.
Through
social media, a random woman whom I had been suggested to as fair game, reached
out to my mother like this:
Hello.
I’m
from the Fa-La-La-La-La family and I got your info from the Do-Re-Mi family. I’m
reaching out in regards to the girl. Please give me a call at ####### or send
me an appointment time.
If
you’re like me, you’re still in stitches, trying to catch your breath from “in
regards to the girl.” Trust me, it’s seven times funnier in Arabic. Every now
and then I spit out the phrase when I need to give my mother some cheering up.
It sends us into uncontrollable laughter during these very dark times.
It
amazed me that even in war, these vultures were still out on the hunt for their
children/siblings on such shallow levels. One night, I met up with my cousin
and her friends for a quick hello to catch up in between all the projects I’ve
been working on here in Syria. As we got up to leave, a woman from the table
behind us dashed over to stop us so she could ask one of my cousin’s friends if
she was single. Apparently, she found this girl appealing enough for her
brother/son. The girl was not only married, but had two children. My head was
spinning. Really? Like, really? What do you even know of her to chase her down?
What
did this other woman even know of me to confidently request an appointment? On
top of that, I had zero information whatsoever on the man in question. So I
decided to ask. I thought hey, why not? He could miraculously be my knight in
rusting armor (read here for more information on the meaning of this quote: http://ladynarrator.blogspot.com/2015/07/the-knight-in-rusting-armor.html).
So
I began laying out my questions. Where does he live? I wanted to know if he was
here in Syria or back in the U.S. or in some other country. What did he study
and what does he do? While no one can deny the significance of financial
stability, I wanted to understand the path of life this man had taken. How old
is he? Pretty self-explanatory. Lastly, I shamelessly requested a photo.
Considering how this family heard about us, I can assume that my Facebook
account was involved.
See,
here’s how the standard routine is expected to go. My mom receives this message
and she’s supposed to be thrilled that her spinster-divorced daughter is
actually attracting suitors. Our response should not have been questions but an
actual scheduled appointment, which, I am to prepare for with a trip to the
beauty salon and a brand new outfit to impress the women from this man’s
family, because, well, the guy doesn’t attend this first appointment. The girl
is inspected by the matriarchs and then the evaluation results are relayed to
him. If he’s intrigued enough, a second appointment is requested, and this
initiation can only come from his end.
They
received our message—both literally and metaphorically. It stated beneath the
text that it was read and after only 36 hours of silence I chuckled at the
realization that they were most probably offended at our “demands.” You know,
the basic information I am entitled to have prior to agreeing to launching a
journey towards the biggest life commitment ever. The irony? Years ago I had a
man demand, I mean explicitly command my mother, over the phone in a
condescending manner, that she force me to meet him for a coffee date and that
she text him over a photo of me without my scarf because it’s his God given
right. Oh Dear Lord. This man had met me numerous times at events in which I
showed absolutely zero interest and yet he was relentless and creepy.
We
women are not property. We are not items on display in a window at anyone’s
disposal. We have the same rights as men do in the courtship process, in
marriage, in child rearing, in finances, in employment, in free time, in
society and in life. We are productive, intellectual and skilled individuals who
deserve a place at the table. And the Syrian woman, as I have seen beneath the
rubble here, is beautifully strong deep inside. I’ve seen it at the shelter
where over 50 displaced women and their families dwell—many of them single
mothers—under the management of empowering Syrian women. The Syrian woman is
full of potential and it’s time that that potential is given the avenue to
thrive. It’s time that society recognizes we are the other half of this world,
therefore until we are included, this world will remain incomplete.
Happy
International Women’s Day!
