The Eyes!

I was walking around lower Manhattan when I could no longer contain my happiness. "Look!" I said to my friend. "No one is looking at me! No one!" I did a little dance on the sidewalk. No one even acknowledged this.

It was true everywhere in America. I walked into grocery stores, bars, parties, subway cars, streets, apartment complexes, and university cafeterias, and was ignored. It was awesome.

A day after arrival back in Syria, changing servees in Baramke, I really missed the anonymity. Dudes, from those shoulder-high on me to those whose own daughters could be my mother, were staring. Not even attempting to be subtle, some dudes had eyes zeroed in on my chest from a distance of 10 meters to when they walked by.

I don't think this is merely a reflection of my being foreign. Since my coloring could be that of a Syrian, my foreign-ness is usually betrayed by my lack of style. Even on days where I could be, and am, mistaken for a Syrian before opening my mouth, there is the staring. And my Syrian girlfriends all draw looks as well. I might be just extra-sensitive to it, though in the grand scheme some staring is a small annoyance.

But to be without it! So freeing! In Syria, my attempts to sidewalk dance are always blocked by my well-meaning friends exclaiming "Eib!"

In America there is no eib. There is, however, weirdness. My friends in America did give me weird looks every time I would stop and say "Look what I can do!" while breaking it down on the sidewalk. "Isn't this cool?"

Their eyes said no, but all their mouths said was "Come on. We're going to be late."

Polygyny

While there are some who think that most Muslims are marrying tons of Muslimas or that polygyny is the norm in the Middle East, I might be the opposite - I was expecting practically none and was actually shocked by the little I saw in Syria.

From when I began studying "the Middle East," or took some courses on Islam, it was repeated almost ad nasuem while though polygyny is allowed, and on the books in most Muslim countries (notible exceptions: Tunisia and Turkey), it is and has been throughout history not the norm. It's hard enough to afford one family, let alone two or four. When I studied in Egypt for six months, I can't say I exactly immersed myself in Egyptian society (I went to AUC) but I never met or heard a hint of these kinds of marriages. Oh sure, it happens, but rarely. Ok, it happens more than rarely in the Gulf, cause they have all that money.

Oh sure there are the jokes: I remember in Dubai once meeting an Emirati, family friend of a friend, who was gorgeous. My girlfriend and I stared. I failed to notice the wedding ring, but my friend (his friend) told me to cheer up: there's room for more. He's already got his respectable Emirati wife, you could be the scandelous foreign one. But this was all on the same level of serious as a teenagers catcalling a group of girls, "why don't you all mary me! C'mon, the religion says it's okay!"

In Syria, I have been amazed how many families with more than one wife I have met. Granted, if your stereotype of Arabs is oppressive men hauling around truckloads of wives, the few families I've met would contradict that. And it's important to note that they are a few among the many, many families I've met.

The first woman contradicted all of my stereotypes: she's a businesswoman, living alone with her children, making money, doing well. Married three times before, she divorced them all because each was an asshat in his own right. Her current husband lives in Lebanon with his other wife, and visits every other weekend or so. Sometimes she visits him. After some shitty, abusing, controlling husbands, this one suits her just fine.

The situation, though, does not suit the other woman fine. I've only heard about her, so this is all hearsay, but she's a foriegner who fell in love, got married, gave birth to seven children, and then was informed by her husband one day that there's another woman. Her son, my friend, told me the first wife stopped all relations and is still pissed. Husband can't believe it. He gave her seven children, a house, a good life. I mean, he remarried four years ago, get over it. I said that probably to her, her husband has been cheating on her twice a month for four years. She doesn't get over it, its a reopened wound every time he goes to Damascus. When they got married, I bet it never crossed her mind that a few decades later he'd be all, thanks for the babies and years, I'm gonna go get my swerve on in a religously-sanctioned fashion.

Most of the women I know who are in polygynous marriages are the first wives, which is obviously different than being the second wife. Their husbands, for the most part, seem like asshats, using weak-ass excuses to marry exclusively younger women. A friend was trying to tell me that some women don't mind - which I'm sure there are some who don't - but used the example of one of Um Tareq's friends. When her husband wanted to remarry, she went out and vetted the girls. I said this doesn't mean necessarily that she loves the idea, but thinks there's no getting around it and being involved in the process is a way to have some control over it. Months later, she comes to Um Tareq, crying that her husband ignores her and spends all his time with the other wife, who is now pregnant (and 20 years old - first wife and hubby are in their late 40s).

Another woman I know divorced her husband because he wanted to marry another woman. It adversely affected her living situation. This is a huge problem - if the woman doens't have any idependent wealth and her husband gets all asshaty and wants to marry again, what are her choices? Divorce, and live on what?



Another friend of the Umahat (moms), who mostly live in Jeramana and love me for some reason, is essentially separated from her husband. He wanted to marry some one "in order to have a boy". Nevermind the couple already has a boy - he's actually grown and getting engaged soon. When the subject has come up before, I've been told her inability to have a boy is a legitimate reason to remarry (even though in the same conversation it's been admitted that, yeah, the sex comes from the father). And in this, there's already a boy.

It's complete bullshit, especially when the source says treatment between wives has to be equal. Of course, the responsibilies are completely set aside when dudes are grabbing the "rights" afforded to them. That condition of equality doesn't interfer with marrying a younger woman, moving in with her, and ignoring the "old" wife in many cases. Then there are the men who go behind their wives back and secretly marry. Wife may know or not. Yeah, like I'm sure that's completely halal and exactly what God meant.

When polyandry has come up in discussion, I've been told that its because a woman just couldn't handle this - women are sensitive creatures who couldn't love more than one. Ah, bullshit.

I know polygyny is a lot more nuanced than this - my first example is some one who is very happy with her shared husband. It's possible there are some very happy families where everyone is pleased with the situation and gets along fine. I haven't met them. Generally, from my experience, it makes for some very unhappy women and asshat men. Though I'm not a Muslim, I'm in favor of the train of thought that interprets Sura 4:3 as historically limited or saying: marry one, two, three, or hour, but if you can't be equal, marry only one. And who can be truly equal and fair, besides God? No one. So focus on making that one wife happy.

Telteesh

I happened to catch a program "Red Line" (الخط الاحمر) on the Syrian channel yesterday, when the topic under discussion was catcalling and harrassment التلطيش والتحرش. There was a group of young people and three experts all discussing the problem and if it was a problem and its reasons. I missed the beginning, but did manage to catch a young person asking if girls hold any of the responsibility for catcalling, with their dress and cause, you know, a lot of them like it anyway. Or if it's all the dude's fault. The psych expert rattled off a list of reasons why dudes might be hassling, including economic pressures, family pressures, and sexual repression. But despite all this, he is still a human not an animal and responsible for his actions. The girl is not.

I'm glad the expert said the girl is not responsible, but he still didn't refute that girls like telteesh. I am so sick of this. Everytime this topic comes up with my (male) friends, I'm told that Syrian girls like telteesh, it makes them feel good. Why else would they dress up like that, wear makeup like that? When I tell them, actually some girls don't, like me, I'm told I'm just a weird American. Syrian girls are different. That's strange, as actually I've chilled with Syrians who've told me telteesh annoys the hell out of them too.

The end of the show had some interviews with men, shot outside of the literature college in Mezzeh. "If you a pretty girl, do you catcall her?"
"Well if she's really pretty.."
"Of course"
One said that it's obvious she wants people to comment on her looks by the way she walks, or what she wears, or puts makeup on.

Because of course, if a woman takes the time to look nice she's doing it for the men on the street. She's not wearing makeup because in the workforce looking nice is required for women. She didn't put herself together for a husband or a boyfriend. She's not trying to look nice to show up other women because of the insane competition women are supposed to have with one another over looks. She's not dressing up cause, hell, she wants to. She's doing it for you, man standing near the SANA building.

The last guy interviewed said he never catcalls as it's disrepectful. That's some one's sister or niece, and he wouldn't want people saying that to his sister. While it's nice that he actually thinks of respect, it's strange that it's not disrepecting her he's worried about, but the nearest attached male. But even he agreed that girls dress up looking for comments.

While I don't doubt there exist some girls who live for the thrill of a random man sucking his teeth in appreciation, it doesn't apply to all of us. So shut the fuck up.

Update and Consequences

Manar ran away the first week of September. For almost a month after she returned home I didn't hear from her. Her phone was off, her family refused to talk to me. Then, last week I ran into her near Rowda in Jeramana. We was alone. We both screamed and hugged excitedly. We talked briefly. She laughed when I told her about her family's insistence she was in Sweida.

"How are you alone?"
She said it had taken some time - the first two weeks she had only left the house if accompanied. But her father had at some point sat down and had a talk with her. He finally told her how he had passed out at the police station, how he had a heart attack. She promised not to run away again.

She also has a new job. She's working security at a foreign embassy in Mezzeh (turns out "security" means carrying a walkie-talkie and checking bags, which is good because the woman must be less than 5'2"). She's making 10,000 lira a month and has a two-day weekend, which is a massive improvement over her old job, where she only had friday off and made 4,000. The new job wanted some one who spoke English as well, but luckily in the interview the only question on this was "Do you speak English?" (in Arabic, naturally)
"Sure"
I met her Thursday after work and we sat at a cafe in Jeramana. We only had two hours because her new curfew is very early. She usually goes home straight from work but is now allowed to stay out until 8pm two or three nights a week.
Her parents are not pressuring her to marry anymore. At first, she said, they tried to get her to reconsider the same one from before. They arranged for him to come over. She told them that she would not get married and if they brought him over she would run away again. The matter was dropped and her mother later came to her and said they would stop pressuring her.

So Manar's life isn't ruined. There's even some good: her parents have stopped pressuring her to marry. She has a better job, with more money. She's thinking about using the money to take some English courses. More time at home means more time to study English with Friends DVDs. Her family hates me, so we have to meet outside of her home secret, but at least I don't have to worry I will never see her again. Her other friends have been able to visit her at her home, even back when she was under house arrest.



But she did tell me that her extended family has turned against her parents. Her father's family, all her uncles and aunts except for one, have informed the family that they will no longer be visiting or speaking with them because of the shame of Manar's having run away. She's back at home, but it doesn't matter. It's too shameful that she did run away for them to have relations with their brother.


It's easy to think of Manar's family as villains. She wanted things that in her words, are completely natural and normal, right? She wants to be able to go out to parties and cultural events, to have some freedom, to study, to travel, to date. To live on her own. To buy a book without being questioned about it and being told she's wasting money. To not feel pressured to hurry the fuck up and get married already at 22. These seem like completely normal things to me, since they were all natural parts of growing up where I'm from.

When Manar's brother was trying to talk her into coming out of the cupboard, he told her to imagine how life would be for him if she didn't come back home. People would laugh when he walked down the street and talk about him behind his back "his sister ran away!" When Manar's mother cradled her, she cried "binti! sharafi!" my daughter, my honor.

The consequences are great, not just for Manar, but for her whole family. Her family has lost their support system. There is no social security in Syria - your family supports you. Family is very important. And now her family has lost that network because of what Manar did - it's understandable why they acted like they did. It's also true that things could have been a lot worse - her uncle wasn't kidding when he told me if they were a different family, Manar would have been killed. They couldn't even consider the suggestion that Manar live with me.

What kind of burden is that to bear? I have been able to live my life knowing that the decisions and mistakes I make will reflect upon me, not have disastrous effects for my family. Though her extended family may come around, especially if Manar gets married someday, I have no doubt her family is blaming her for the estrangement. Her brothers naturally don't have to worry about this, they can move out of the house (one is considering it), stay out all night, travel, fuck and drink without ruining familial ties.

There's a lot of things I would have done differently if I could repeat the episode. It's useless to list these now, and I still would have chosen to help Manar. Despite how many times I got the speech "there is Arab society and Western society" from her family, and told I couldn't understand the implications of her actions as a foreigner, I still would choose to help her. She is a friend, she was in potential danger and she asked for my help. That's universal. However I know that part of the reason I was able to help was because of my situation: being a foreigner. I wasn't scared to accompany Manar with her family because while Syrian law protects a family killing their daughter, it punishes for killing the naive American with her. I'm no hero: when at her uncle's house, I mostly nodded and agreed with what her family said. When they threatened my boyfriend I apologized for helping.


I still don't know what exactly to make of the whole situation. But at the very least, Manar is well and safe and somewhat happy.

Oh No You Didn't!

Maybe it's the heat, but I am not putting up with shit.

When there's a bit of harassment in a crowded area, like a servees or a souq, there's always a little doubt about whether that brush-up was intentional or not. If intentional, I want to go off on a mother so he thinks twice before oops! letting his hand wander again. If not, I don't want to be a crazy person going off a poor guy who just got caught up in the crowd. Most women go through this same calculation, I think, and many of us err on the side of "well, maybe it was accidental". Then later we think, "Oh that was totally intentional. Eww." and feel like idiots for not having at least made a scene.

But I am making some scenes.

Last week on my way to work my head was buried in my book (Bab ash-Shams, Elias Khoury) when I felt a hand graze my side. The guy next to me had shifted his weight, and his arm crossed with the other, and the hand rubbed against me a bit. I gave him the benefit of the doubt and kept reading. A little later, he leaned over and whispered something in my ear. I didn't catch but the last of it cause I wasn't paying attention, but intentions were clear.

So I straightened, and very loudly, for all the servees to hear, said "What? What do you want? Don't whisper!" Everyone looked at the dude, who looked deeply embarrassed, and didn't bother me again on the ride.

A couple of days later I was in the Jeramana servees when I relealized there was a hand at my back, on the side. I have no idea how long that hand had been there, but it belonged to the man sitting behind me, who was holding on to the seat in front of him from the side, and just managed to put his hand behind me. I didn't even think, but automatically turned and slapped the hand, which withdrew and immediately signalled for the servees to pull over so he could get his guilty ass out. Guilty as SLAP!

But the latest scene was not made by me. I was riding with some friends when one of them noticed the guy sitting across from us was engrossed by my skirt's hemline. He waved his hand in front of the guy's face, then they got into a shouting match. The other passengers calmed them down, and the man moved to another seat. Perhaps my friends overreacted, but ever since I told them about what happened when that guy attacked me, and other girlfriends jumped in with similar stories, some of the dudes have gotten very protective of us.

Men Don't Wanna Take Care of No Babies

As I envoke the "liberation of men" to do childcare or other activities not considered traditionally masculine, in the back of my head I hear a conversation from several months ago, back when I was living with a Syrian family on Sharia Baghdad.

Back during the now-unimaginable February cold, I got into a 2-day, well, discussion with them.

It began innocently enough when I came home Friday at around 5pm, planning to eat and then retreat to my room with the Ghassan Kanafani play I had to write an analysis on and the Andalusian poetry I had to lead the class in the following Sunday. As per usual in the biting cold I took my meal in the sobia room, joining Iyad, the unemployed law school graduate midget (literally) and two of his friends. I ate my meal in silence, listening to their conversation. I was soon incorporated into that conversation, which began with the usual "So, how do you like Syria?" (one of the boys I had not met before) and somehow ended up on The Gays and my strange lack of revulsion to their Ways and complete willingness to let them live and marry. "But what is the point of marriage? Children!" Iyad claimed. I told him I know some gay couples with children. But how? That is impossible!

"They adopt. I know people who have done this, and they have beautiful families." That someone could love a child that did not squirm out of her vagina or result from his penile squirt some months previous was denied:"Blood is blood."

That my aunt, with two adopted children, loved them as much as "real" children was as well.

Then we landed on the women. The conversation kept me up until late into the night, preventing me from getting any work done, and spilled over well into Saturday night. One of the highlights was when Iyad denied that men have estrogen and women have testosterone. "Why would women have testosterone? It's obvious they don't. Their voices aren't low, they don't have hair." But his insistance that men do not have estrogen was even stronger. "Of course they don't! What, is it for their period?" The next day, when I returned from Sitt Zeinab and teaching English to Iraqi kids, Iyad was in the sitting room, triumphantly looking over his highschool biology textbook. He pointed me to the short passage, where it said that testosterone was the male hormone, and listed its effects on the male during puberty. Estrogen is the female hormone, with its effects. And progesterone is also a female hormone, with its effects. The complete passage was three small paragraphs - hardly what I would call comprehensive review of the complicated subject of hormones. I considered letting him believe what he wants, but instead printed out some more complete information from the internet, which identified the existance of all three hormones in both sexes and even included the gem about how while most men have more testosterone than most women, the ranges for both sexes are very wide and overlap, thus some women have more testosterone than some men.

The hormones came up because wehad been talking about the babies.

Iyad insisted that full equality was impossible, and sarcastically asked me if we should make men pregnant, because it isn't equal that women have to go though that. "That must be hard." I told him not to act like I am an idiot - naturally women have a womb, but the moment after birth why can't the man take care of the baby?
"Because they don't have attifiya (kindness and feelings) like a woman!"

Abu Mazen joined in to ask me why I was mad about this if it is what God wants. Being a mother and taking care of children is an honored and respected role. I was accused of thinking of childbearing and taking care of the home as an "insult". No, I insisted, it's not an insult, which I why I want men to be free to do childcare as well. Why should that be denied to them?
"What, you want all men to stay home and take care of children?" Iyad asked.
"No, but both parties should be free to choose what they want to do. In some families, the woman may want to take care of the children, and the man may want to work. In some families, the man may want to stay at home, and the woman may want to work. In other families, both want to or have to work so they share raising the children 50-50. What's wrong with that?"
"If the man stays home he is lazy."

This allowed me to appeal to Um Mazen, asking her if raising 6 children had been easy. She looked at me like I was crazy, saying of course not. Um Mazen was not exactly on my side during the debate, telling me several times that while girls are loved, boys are preferred. And that God loves men more than women. But at least she told her son that raising kids is not the lazy choice.

During the converstation, no one present had a problem with women working, but the problem was with men take on such a feminized role. Childcare is an honored and respected role, unless a man takes it on and then he is a lazy pussy. Of course, this is far from a Syria-specific double standard, and reflects the situation in most of the world.

But it was a fun conversation in that I was also asked several times if I hated men.

To Save Humanity: Men Take Care of Babies

There has been conservative hand-wringing for quite some time now about the "demographic crisis" of falling European birthrates, some arguing that concurrent Muslim immigration is going to cause the downfall of Western Civilization. Often these critiques blame (white) European women for their selfishness, exhorting them to pop the babies out.

But in a NYTimes article, awesomely titled "No Babies," Russell Shorto (also an awesome name) finds that gender relations, more so than selfish, decadent European women, are a reason for low fertility.

“In all of these countries [mostly southern European with emphasis on traditional gender roles]," Billari said, “it’s very difficult to combine work and family. And that is partly because, within couples, we have evidence that in these countries the gender relationships are very asymmetric.”

Counter to intuition, that working ladies have less babies, the article points to a study since the mid-1990s, lowest fertility levels in Europe are in countries with lowest female labor-force participation.

To explain, the author compares the Netherlands and Italy, the former with less traditional views about gender roles than the latter. Geert is much more likely to change some diapers than Guiseppe, so Geert's wife is more likely to want to have more babies: "It's about how much the man participates in child care."

The article finds this true across regions, not just in Europe:

By this logic, the worst sort of system is one that partly buys into the modern world— expanding educational and employment opportunities for women — but keeps its traditional mind-set. This would seem to define the demographic crisis that Italy, Spain and Greece find themselves in — and, perhaps, Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong, Taiwan and other parts of the world. Indeed, demographers have been surprised to find rapid fertility changes in the third world, as more and more women work and modern birth-control methods become standard options. “The earlier distinct fertility regimes, ‘developed’ and ‘developing,’ are increasingly disappearing in global comparisons of fertility levels,” according to Edward Jow-Ching Tu, a sociologist at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. According to the United Nations, the birthrate in 25 developing countries — including Cuba, Costa Rica, Iran, Sri Lanka and China — now stands at or below the replacement level. In some cases — notably China — the drop is explained by a concentrated effort at containing the population. In the rest, something else is happening. The lesson of southern Europe is perhaps operative: embrace the modern only partway and you put your society — women in particular — in a vise. Something has to give, and that turns out to be the future.

Interesting to hear Iran put on this list, as Iran is held up as a "best practices" example within the UNFPA of how to be culturally sensitive and achieve major results in reducing population growth.

In Syria and many other "developing" countries, fertility rate is very highly inversely correlated to a women's education status and workforce participation (fertility goes down when education or working goes up). This "embracing the modern" (not a fan of that expression, but letting slide) is one of the best ways to reduce fertility in high-fertility countries, but this article suggests a tipping point of beneficiality. If these workforce changes are not supplemented by cultural changes with regards to gender roles, fertility rates will slip below replacement, and humanity will be doomed.

Thus addressing inequitable gender roles is a solution for both underpopulation and overpopulation. While women moving in traditional "male roles" of working outside the home is more and more acceptable in more places, often out of necessity, there is still widespread resistance to men moving into traditional "female roles" of child care or housework. Gender issues are often thought of as "women's issues" but this emphasizes, how realizing equality is not just about women's issues, but men's, and fighting the societal restraints upon men as well. This is a the companion to the liberation of women; the liberation of men.

Of course, whether negative population growth is inherently harmful is also up for debate. In an era where overpopulation is certainly a greater concern in most places than underpopulation, and in which we are just beginning to see the manifestations of our effect on the global climate, is less humans a bad thing? The article delves into this as well:

For there are those who argue that low birthrate in itself is not a problem at all. Paul Ehrlich, the Stanford scientist who warned us about the “population bomb” in the 1960s, is more certain than ever that the human race is catastrophically straining the planet. “It’s insane to consider low birthrate as a crisis,” he told me. “Basically every person I know in my section of the National Academy of Sciences thinks it’s wonderful that rich countries are starting to shrink their populations to sustainable levels. We have to do that because we’re wrecking our life-support systems.”

Phone Calls

About a month ago a strange number called me on my cell, saying he was from the simsar's office and asking me how I was doing. He knew my name, but was a young guy, not the old man that handed me the keys to my apartment three months ago. He asked how I was doing and if he could come over, while I was cagey and refused. His name was Ra'id, and I know of no other Ra'id than my friend over on Rowda. "Why do you want to visit?"
"To see how you are doing."
"I'm fine, thanks."
"Can I come over."
"No. Who are you?"
"I'm Ra'id, from the office."
"I don't need anything from the office."
"Do you like the apartment?"
"Yes."
"Can I visit?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Why do you want to visit?"
"To see how you are. Just to visit."
"I don't know you. No."
"You're on the second floor right?"

After wasting his minutes more, he finally didn't call back when I hung up again.

Strange phone calls from strangers are not uncommon. Often someone will call a wrong number, and if a girl answers, they keep calling back trying to get a date. My friends have confirmed this happens to them all the time, so it doesn't have to do with my foreignness, just my ladyness, but in an attempt to not get me to hang up they always bring it up:
"Allo?" I say
"Marhaba."
"marhabtayn. Who is this?"
Sometimes they say their name, often they just ask for some one who I am not.
"Sorry, wrong number."
"Where are you from?"

After the call has ended, the guy calls back, to let me know that I have a pretty voice and where am I from? Am I a student? I hang up. They call back.

They call back the next day. They call back at 1am. And again the next day. I finally hand the phone to a male friend standing nearby, who bitches them out for me, identifying himself as my khateeb.

Sometimes the guy tries to speak to me in English, producing sentences like: "You voice nice."

Sometimes the English is a bit better, and they try to pass themselves off to me as another foreigner. "I am American too. Why don't we talk?" as if I'm not going to detect the Syrian-accented English or be unable to identify another American. I told him, in Arabic, that I didn't want to talk with him and he was an asshole. "What? I don't understand. Speak English." This was only the second time that particular guy had called back, but I was standing next to a friend, so I handed him the phone. He invoked the man's sister's genitals in a disrespectful manner, but the man just kept repeating, "I don't understand. Speak English. What?"

But at least he didn't call back.

According to some guy friends, some of these calls are not the result of wrong numbers, but bored guys sitting around dialing random numbers until a girl picks up. I don't really know what they are expecting to get out of this: BINGO! Got a girl! I'm sure she'll want to go on a date with a complete stranger who keeps calling her! I mean, maybe there's a glimmer of hope the first time, but after that, really, what are you thinking? That if you call me at 1am I'll be happy, put on some pants, and come over to your parents' house for some lovin?

Humped

Thursday night I was attacked. I was pretty tired from my week of pre-7am rising, and wanted to clear my head, so I went for a walk. While the main streets in Jerimana are bustling at almost all hours, you don't have to walk too far to hit farms and a little desolation. I needed to get away from noise and people for a bit. I walked this way before at 11pm with some friends, including guys. It wasn't yet 8:30 pm when I left home.

I was walking along a road near a field. There are small farms and the occaisonal apartment building on this road, with the lights of Jerimana not far behind me. While not busy, there were cars, bikes, and other walkers passing by in frequent intervals. I walked next to a pile of dirt and a young man, who had been crouched behind it, started walking very quickly towards me, when a car turned the corner and man's pace relaxed. I yelled at him, "What are you doing? What was that?" and kept walking, thinking maybe I had misinterpreted the situation. A second car, behind the first, passed and the man came running at me. I started yelling at him to leave me alone, and when he got near hit him with my bag and tried to aim for his face with my other hand. He tried to kiss me, and though I managed to prevent that, I got humped as he tried to grope things, when the headlights of a car came up the road. He ran, grabbing his bike that he had hidden alongside the road.

I flagged down the car, a taxi with a man sitting next to the driver. Clearly shaken and freaked out, I yelled that the guy on the bike attacked me.
"Why are you walking by yourself?"
I said I was going to a friends house, but thinking "Why does that fucking matter?" They invited me to get in the car and I thought they would try to catch up with bikeattacker, but instead they just questioned me why I was out by myself, where I lived, and what the guy had taken from me. "Did he take your wallet? your bag?"
"He didn't take anything, he attacked me."
"But he didn't take anything?"
"No, he attacked me."
The passenger muttered "harassement," as though I were silly to get so worked up over it. I got out of the car at the beginning of the road, where the streets were bustling.

I felt like maybe I shouldn't have been walking alone. It's strange that the first time I go walking by myself in a non busy area I get attacked. Everyone likes to talk about how safe Syria is, and not that my one little incident negates the true general low incidence of crime and especially violent crime, but for all the years I've lived in the horribly unsafe and crimeridden (according to popular opinion) States nothing like that has ever happened to me. Running through much more desolate areas of Michigan pre-dawn or after nightfall in sportsbra and shorts, walking home from the subway to my apartments in Brooklyn and Long Island City at 3am: nothing.

Friday afternoon I had some friends over and some one made the whole Syria is completely safe argument, to which I told what happened the night before. The guys were flabbergasted, saying that was a weird thing that hardly ever happens. They also could not believe that the men in the car had reacted like that, saying that most Syrian guys would chase the guy down. "Syrians love to be heroes." It was suggested that I return to the same spot and walk around as bait, while two of my guyfriends hide in the bushes so they can get anyone who messes with me.

The ladies present refuted the idea that this shit is rare, with examples. Not that some one full on attacking is common, but harrassment (not meaning verbal. Verbal harrassment or catcalling is talteesh, while if its physical it is taharrosh)

I was heartened though, when I pointed out that it had only been 9pm and Tariq said, "That doesn't matter. You should be able to walk around at 2am naked without being attacked."

I don't mean this post to reinforce the stereotype that Arab men are sex-starved maniacs. Obviously the vast majority of men do not attempt to hump women on the street. But there there is a lack of awareness about harrassment among guys. When one of my friends refused to believe that this kind of stuff happens more than "hardly ever" he said he'd never heard of such an incidence before tonight. Really? How often do you hang out with girls and how often would they be comfortable talking about it to you? He then cast a critical eye on several of Manar's anecdotes, because she said this had happened to her cousin, that to her friend. "Syrians exaggerate. A guy says he saw a hat with 4 colors and after a month the hat had 200 colors." He also said it was women's fault for not making a bigger scene when something like this happens.

I'm just feeling very pissed off about the incident.

A Word About the Dudes

Ask the foreign tourists or students about the Middle East, and most will wax lovingly on beautiful ruins, good food, and charming locals. Oh, except the men. In Egypt this is practically written in bold type across the face of every travel guide. And while most will agree that Syria is much better harrassment-wise, people still be complaining up a storm. In a recent NPR story on foreign students in Damascus, two American girls were interviewed who said "they had a hard time adjusting to the aggressive attentions of Syrian men".

But let's give the dudes a fair shake. Yes, the boys be looking. But get out of the old city and you'll realize that whoa! it's not as bad. Paradoxically, the places that are buzzing with tourists and assorted ajanab are where they are stared at like crazy. Plus, most of the times when dudes say something to me it is "Allah khaliki" (God keep you) or something similar, as I'm passing. Which, in a way, is kind of nice, I neither do I want to be struck down by god.

Plus none of the western ladies are ever talking about the other side of the dude story: how many times a day do men squat or stand so that you can sit down on the micro or bus? How many times do they let you cut in front of all the men at offices, cutting down your dealing-with-bureaucracy time considerably. How many times has a man passed me in a busy street, putting his hands behind him so that he does not even accidently brush against anything? All the freaking time. Micro drivers won't usually stop before big a big muhata (big station-stop), where at certain times of the day crowds of people swamp micros and you have to fight for a place. Some cheaters like to walk ahead of the muhata and flag down a micro, but the drivers know this game and refuse. Unless a lady flags them down.

I know where this comes from, and I was annoyed when I first got here. I can stand on the freaking bus! It is especially embarassing when an old man shakily gets to his feet and offers you the seat. No it's okay old-timer. I can stand. No really. why don't you sit down before a hip breaks. No really, I swear that the burden of female is not so heavy that I am unable to carry it this 15-minute bus ride. Thank you though.

I would prefer to not to be treated special just because of my extra x-chromosome, but I feel that the ladies, when ranting about the dudes of Syria, should relate this side too. My ass has been pinched 3 times in 7 months of Syria, but countless times men have moved around so I could sit next to another woman on the micro, or squished themselves so that they didn't touch me. Or the line of men that ran up to offer to help me carry my full 20-Liter jug of water (tap water undrinkable in Jerimana, we have to buy) yesterday without one horndog look or unpolite word. There's more than just the piercing eyes of frustrated, aggressive men in Sham.

Halter Top

While I ridicule those who asked the inevitable, "Are you going to have to veil?" or some variation of it, of my moving to Syria, I at times am shocked by what ladies be wearing.

Spring came in unseasonably warm, and while it has cooled down to the pleasant, temperate spring that Sham is known for, I grew quite used to the sight of tanktops. I even saw a few short skirts with no leggings underneath. I had understood the general rule of dressing for success in Syria that tight in any form is ok, but showing skin can not be. Thus muhajibbas think nothing of wearing ass-tight jeans and lycra long-sleeved shirts. Like New York, many girls have also arrived to the erroneous conclusion that leggings are pants. I still maintain they are not, and you should go home and put some damn pants on, as I can see camel toe and we're not in the desert.

And then, among the tanktops and above-the-knee skirts, I actually saw a halter top. A halter top! In Bab Toma. She looked like a highschool girl, and was giggling about boys with her tank-top befitted friend.

I don't understand how these ladies go about in this kind of dress. In my rather wide clothes, I get stared at. In terms of looks, I can kindof pass for Syrian, with clothes and accent usually giving up the game, so it's not that I'm the blond foreigner. My friends seem unperturbed by guys constantly checking them out the street, maybe they just get used to it. But in a halter top? I imagine the intensity of staring could reach the point where the object of affection explodes into flames.

I Still Don't Think Nesreen is a Dude

Tariq has a differnt take on Nesreen and her bathroom messages. "It's probably a guy just trying to meet girls."
"What? That doesn't make any sense. The only girls who would call would be lesbians."
"Yeah, but he'd have their phone numbers."
"So? They wouldn't want him."
"He'd have their phone numbers. That's how Syrian guys think."

I'm doubtful.

The Gym

In trying to avoid a blow-up like in Egypt, where koshari and ta'amiya somehow added 20 pounds to my frame, I have joined a gym. Syria is much, much more perilous, being a land of delicious food and especially the sweets. Shami sweets are famous, renowned around the world. I love them so freaking hard.

When the weather was nice, I would walk the 40-50 minutes from my house to the university, but once that temperature dropped and getting out of bed in the morning became harder than labor, I took the micro. So I joined a gym 10 minutes from home walking a month ago. For $24/month, I can go to the gym 3 times a week (it's more if I want to go everyday and I'm not ready for that level of commitment yet). The gym is two rooms: a crapload of weights, 3 treadmills, 3 elipticals, a recumbent bike (blaugh). A little pricy, but what kept me from joining at a cheaper ones is Ladies' Hours.

Ladies' Hours at almost all gyms are from 10-12, when I have class. The thinking is that most ladies would like to work out without the eyes of men on them, and many would, but unfortunately the thinking also is that they have nowhere to be during the day. I have class.

More expensive gyms mix it up. Mine has ladies' hours from 10-12, but ladies are welcome at any other time as well. There are no only-fellas hours. Usually when I go there's one or two other women working out, muhijaba and non. The only problem is that there is only one changing room, meaning men have to wait while I shower and I have to wait while they change.

There is a crazy swanky gym called Nadi Barada. It even has a freaking indoor pool. But it's $50 a month and from what I've heard, quite a "scene". I don't really want to just rub (sweaty) elbows with the elite.

My gym works well enough. I think I'll go for another month. I really would like to join a gym where I could a class in kickboxing or something fun though. Take out some of the pent-up aggression from frustrating "place of women in society" chats with the family.

Cool Off, Dudes

Something very strange has been happening the past week: harrassment, on an unprecedented level.

When comparing Damascus and Cairo previously, I had always hit upon what to me, after traffic, was the most obvious difference: the fellas. I had had few problems with the men of Damascus, and they seemed to have no problem with me. Hell, I walked around in a skirt higher than knee length with only a few hungry-eyed stares as a response.

Then, last week, I had a man follow me off the the servees (micro) when I went to Jerimana. He walked a pace behind me, whispering in a low voice, "ansiya... instinni, bas su'al" (miss, wait, just a question). I ignored him and he went away quickly. The next day, in another servees, just as I was about to get off a man handed me his business card. "Sho hada?" I asked, confused, what is this? He just said for you, call me, and left. Okay, so that one's not so bad.

Then, Saturday, I was on my way to Sitt Zeinab to teach English at 10am. At the beginning of the trip, when I handed my change to the man next to me to pass up, his hand paused on mine for what seemed a bit more than necessary for the passing of change. No, I thought, I'm just being paranoid.

Once we were well on our way, he turned to talk to me in low, sweet tones. "sho ismik? mineen inti?" His intentions clear, I tried to ignore him but he kept trying to convince me to go to a restaurant or some shit. Then he put his hand on my leg. I jumped like it was made of fire and told him don't touch me! He said sorry and continued. The man next to him got off the servees and Romeo didn't move over, instead staying umcomfortably close. He talked and snapped his fingers to get my attention, touching my arm and leg. "La tilmasni! sho bedak?" He said sorry again, then leaned in close and asked "kum fuloos?" (How much money?). This is strange for several reasons, first amoung them that nobody ever says this in Syria. 'edeesh masari is the Syrian way to ask this. They say kum fuloos in Egypt and maybe other places. Second, I am obviously not a whore. It is winter, and I am wearing a large jacket over all my clothes, nothing provocative about it. It is also 10am - there's a reason the euphanism is "ladies of the night." Prostitutes generally also don't play hard to get. I yelled at him again not to touch me, and people in the servees turned to look. People turned to look, but it was my stop so I just got off.

What is the reason for this sudden upsurge in harrassment? Maybe, with the upcoming hajj, soon-to-be-hajjis are trying to get their sin in before the forgiveness. It's just strange that after 3 months with so little, dudes be hitting on me tons now. I swear I'm not any hotter than last week. At least I'm getting hit on in Arabic.

قصة قصيرة

كنت أنتظر رفيقي على جسر الرئيس في مطر, فكان في مطر ليومين كلهما هذا الاسبوع. ما كان عندي شمسية وكنت بردانة شوي ومبللة كثيرة. جاء اليّ شاب عمره 27 على الاكثر, واعطيني شمسيته. عرفت انّ هدفه ليس برىء. قلت له انّي لا اريد شمسيته وقال لي: بس ما عندك شيء.

. قلت: بس هالا انت ما عندك شيء
قال لي: مافي مشكلة. منين انت؟
فبدأ التغزل
قلت: من امريكا
قال اي متدهشا: امريكا؟ انت امريكية؟
قلت: اه
قال لي: انجد؟
قلت: اه
قال لي: بتحكي عربي منيحة. قديش صار لك هن؟
قلت: شهرين تقريبا
طلب مني رقمي موبيل ورفضت. طلب مني موعد الى معطم لنسف الرد. سالني لمذا وقلت له: عندي صديق, فهمت شلون؟ عندي بويفريند
قال: بدك ثاني؟
قلت: لا,مع وحد في مشاكل بكافي
فاخبرني انه في الامن واذا عندي اي مشكلة لازم اتصل به وحاول ان يعطيني رقمه فمشيت الى مكان ثاني في الجسر

Please Just Take the Money

Saturday I was again at Saida Zeinab teaching English, and during a short break during a marathon of children, I ran out to quiet my stomach. Walking down the street, I really felt like everyone was staring at me. The boys I had just taught were all smiles, yelling "Hello Teacher!", but so were the older boys (men), whose smiles were just a bit less innocent. I bought some bread at the bakery, where the man tried to give me the bread for free.
"It's on me"
"No, no I'd rather pay."
"It's on me. You can pay next time."
"I'm not going to be here for another week."
"It's all right."
"Please just take it." I held out the coin, and finally he asquiesed, looking defeated.

Then on the ride home I was a little late so I jumped in a cab instead of walking from the garage to Shariah Baghdad. The driver and I chatted, but at my stop he refused payment. I insisted, and he accepted.

Then I was waiting to meet my teacher, and stomach hungry once again, I bought some peanuts from a dude on the street. "How much do you want?" I asked (this actually sounds polite in Arabic).
"Whatever you would like."
"Um, I want the price?"
"On my head."
"It's 10 right?"
"Yes, 10." he took the coin.

Is this supposed to be come opportunity to flirt? Seriously, just take my money.