…I, Samira, a 23-year-old young woman, observed the experience of Pardis, an Iranian-American woman who was visiting her hometown in Iran after 22 years of living in America. I have lived through the changes and the revolution. I can feel and still taste the pain beneath my wounded spirit. I sympathized with Pardis. If only Pardis knew what we had lived through.

A sad personal experience, from December 1999 (Esfand, 1375), in Tehran, Iran. It took twenty-two years before Pardis returned home from America. She saw Iran under the control of the Islamic Republic. Her eyes could not accept the rigid rules that were forced on women regarding strict coverage of their body and hair. Discrimination and segregation were part of their daily retunes.

Pardis met her friend Manije in front of the shopping center. There they stood with Pardis’s luggage in hand waiting for the bus to arrive. The bus stop was crowded. Everyone was gathered in one small area. Under the hot sunny weather as the bus arrived, Pardis, being in a rush, grabbed her luggage and started toward the bus.

Pardis set her foot on the first step of the bus, but suddenly was pulled back. She anxiously turned and saw her friend Manije standing before her. Manije spoke out: “Don’t get on the bus. This door is not for us. Follow me.” Manije pulled Pardis toward the end of the bus explaining, “This is our door.”

With disappointment on her face, Pardis followed her friend to the back of the bus. Her frustration was unspeakable. Why should women be treated in such unjust behavior? Why should women be seen as second citizens in their own country? The question remains unanswered…


A. E., 24, Egypt – In Search of a Dream
…In the Arab world today, the majority is denied the minimal transparency and good governance necessary for one to partially realize her reality and her potential, and further denied knowledge of her society and country's reality. The lack of basic understanding of one's status and potentials leaves behind handicapped individuals and nations; deprived of the simple and basic right: the right to dream.

An altered reality most similar to a doll house, this is the society created by our governments in the Arab world. As an Arab citizen, you are sealed  and kept in a box of the world the government wants you to live in... where your nation is the greatest nation in the world and the speeches of your king or president thrill the whole world... also our economy is doing great and the economic growth rate is as fast as the speed of light. Silence is another wall of the doll house, one does not hear much about the health care which is much below the acceptable levels, and pollution rates are silently watched as our cities top the list of polluted cities around the world. Our prestige and dignity as a nation are very valuable, while the political compromises our country is obliged to endure persistently come as surprises to us, the citizens. Economic decisions are taken independent of workers coalitions and concerned parties who later have to suffer the unaccountable impacts.

Knowing the truth of ourselves, our families and society, one can choose to accept such reality or to seek a better life. Such movement or development is the path people lead in life, motivated by a hope or a dream. To build the bridge towards the dream, one has to know what to expect of the bricks, when to put more pressure and when to avoid a crack. It also has to be by means of work and effort that one manages to hold the bricks and put them on top of each other, not by the means of miracles or magic.

However, the Arab world, being the cradle of the Arabian Nights, has its modern version of magic, called Wasta and corruption. As a young youth, one is introduced to Wasta as a substantial player in her future plans. An early encounter comes as one chooses her career path before or after college, millions of students are forced to exclude jobs known to require Wasta they do not have, these include diplomatic jobs, judicial board jobs, work in police and army. Alternatively, jobs can be tabooed via a bribing system, where a certain amount of money has to be paid for influential people to secure a job opportunity in certain fields. While this corruption leaves millions of youth hindered of pursuing their simple and most important dream, it further impacts them by diminishing any confidence and belief they have in the system as a whole, the system, which, to a big extent, personifies their country.

So, our governments are not fair just as life is not. But in face of life one can cry and complain to others. But citizens of the Arab countries are denied the right to gather, let alone the right for self expression. The emergency law and the alike arrangements make sure that any group of more than three people can be arrested for the sake of security, not to mention the effectiveness of the government in responding to people's concerns which never get the chance to develop into objections.

Using a psychiatric approach, recognizing a problem is the first step of solving it - secondly comes the dialogue between the concerned parties. The Arabs react to their exclusion from deciding their future by excluding their government from their lives whenever it is possible, and through giving the government all the roles that are there to be played. The government became the Other. This externalization of the government relieves people from any responsibility towards their problems, laying all the responsibility on government. The government, the Other, while may not be an adversary remains an external factor that cannot be approached, predicted or controlled.

This passive relationship is a cause and a symptom of surrender, where people give up having a role in their own lives and decision making on personal, social and political realms…


Qusay Hussein, 25, Iraq’s Dream Deferred
I still remember when my uncle was taken away by Saddam's security in 1986. I was horrified by the scene of bulky, armed people dragging a human, ignoring the cries of his old father and the screams of his aged mother. We remained in the dark concerning why he was arrested until he was released two years later with some permanent physical and mental injuries. It happened that he said to some of his allegedly close friends that the war (i.e., the Iraq-Iran war 1980-1988) claimed many lives from both countries and that it should have been brought to an end.

I was since taught not to say, or even implicate, anything that made a bad mentioning of the glorified President, the immortal Ba'ath Party, or the victorious Revolution. Indeed, this was like a ghost that haunted me all the time, fearing that I might slip — a fear that I noticed in the faces of all the people I met who, I deduced, were seemingly taught this very same thing.

I had thenceforth a dream that kept on "deferring": the coming of the day when Saddam is ousted and the hegemony of the Ba'athists goes without return; the day when I would be able to think and say what I want to, not what others want me to. On April 8, 2003, I thought that that dream came true. But soon afterwards foreign terrorists and local extremists started imposing the same air that their earlier Saddamists used to do. I wrote an article entitled "Freedom in New Iraq," but did not publish it, fearing that those criminals might have my throat slit for it.

However, I think that the one intrinsic difference between now and then is that now I do my best to help the security forces get those criminals. I don't want to live again haunted, afraid, and terrified that I might "slip." It seems that my long "deferred dream" has been further deferred. And I will keep my article in my drawer till I realize that dream, hopefully sooner.


Noha Roushdy, 22, Egypt - The Road Inwards: On Authoritarianism of Society
Every time her name gets mentioned in the media or she appears on a show or on one of those live debates on television you have to hear a joke, a smirk or any expression of ridicule or contempt by the audience, other guests on the show or even sometimes by the person hosting the show in which she appears. She gets attacked for being an unspecialized amateur, an eccentric feminist or simply as someone who never knows what she is talking about.

The person I’m referring to is the well-known feminist Egyptian writer, Nawal El Saadawi, whose ideas have provoked conservative factions in the state and society, closing down several magazines she has been responsible for as well as the Arab Women’s Solidarity Association, which was under her direction, and thereby interrupting other projects on her developmental agenda. Furthermore, this woman was briefly imprisoned in the 1980s and her name now appears on one of the death lists issued by some fundamentalist terrorist organization.

Whether I liked or agreed with what I heard or read by this woman, it has never really concerned me if compared with my concern with the reaction that the mere mention of her name, or something she has, said arouses in an informal conversation or even on national television. It is not an improbable assumption that a good percentage of those people who engage in that particular kind of reaction has never truly read any of her work, nor have a concrete idea about this woman’s intellectual contributions as an internationally acclaimed writer and novelist whose works have been translated into over thirty languages and who has lectured in numerous important universities...

My reference to Nawal El Saadawi attempts to highlight the culture of repression that does not recognize the individual as such, notwithstanding her rights to express and practice individual choices.

You do not need to be an ethnic or religious minority to feel discriminated against. You do not need to be physically assaulted to feel harassed. You do not need to be poor to be looked down upon. You do not need to be uneducated for people to ridicule what you have to say. I may have had all the privileges, some people only dream of. But I live in an authoritarian society where nobody can do, think, or even feel what she likes if there is an authority of any kind that does not approve of these acts, thoughts, or emotions. Our authoritarian governments feed on authoritarian societies that know no rights for the young, for the female, and for whoever happens to think or feel differently about an established order of things.

As I sit among all sorts of people who have long ago agreed on the injustice the political system does to generations of Egyptians, or the intolerance and discrimination the entire world order is built upon, even on the bigotry and prejudices of the fundamentalist Islamists, I think of every one of those speakers and what his/her behavior is like when he/she has power over another. In the Middle East, repression is not a mechanism of the ruling regime only. Repression is a mechanism that we individuals use against others whenever we attack another person’s ideas or acts as anti-Islamic, as unpatriotic, as amoral, as rude, or as indecent…


E. J., 19, Saudi Arabia, Growing Up a Minority in Saudi Arabia
Growing up on the Saudi Arabian peninsula for 17 years of my 18-year life has not been easy. Although life in Saudi is all I know of, attending the American International School has introduced me to human rights, freedom of speech and acts against discrimination. One side of me still wishes that I had never known of such freedom and rights. If I was never aware, these last few months I’m spending in Saudi without any particular activity wouldn’t be such a challenge. But the other half of me just cannot wait to leave this kingdom, complete my education, and bring human rights, more specifically women rights, to this place I now call home. I have this motivation because I know it’s out there, and I know it’s possible. Individual rights... even for women. It’s no sin or fault to be born a female.

I graduated from the American International School here in Riyadh, but I have an experience of attending an Arab Islamic school for three years. As a Korean, and a Christian, those three years were nowhere near my most enjoyable school days. But what I learned and gained from the school cannot be expressed in words, and no other experience could have given me this motivation.

I had walked into a school where variation was a novelty. Everybody liked me because I was different, thus some kind of amusement. And everybody hated me because I was different. I wasn’t one of them. It was such a great burden to be expected to represent my ethnic culture; the education standards of the American school (they all knew I came from the American School); and the belief of the Christian church. These were students that had no knowledge of the world beyond their Arab Islamic Kingdom. Even among all-female students and teachers, I was discriminated against because I was nothing like any of them.

I found myself sitting in my first day of Arabic class where the teacher didn’t speak a word of English. No matter how hard I tried in class, I was always wrong because I had no idea what was going on. During Islamic studies class, they criticized and talked about the flaws of Christianity. I dared not speak up because I would be corrupting their belief, the school’s belief, and thus the nation’s belief, which is the foundation of the government's law.

My Qur’an teacher failed me because I didn’t bring the Qur’an to class every day and couldn’t memorize the verses in Arabic. It wasn’t because I didn’t care about the class. It was because my classmates made a fuss about a Christian touching a Qur’an. And I’m not very good at learning by ear; so not knowing a word of Arabic didn’t really help me memorize those verses. To be quite honest, it was a stage where I couldn’t even memorize Bible verses in English. Those were the days where life was truly horrible. Among the people of a community where no variation has ever existed, and people who did now know to honor or respect differences in foreign cultures and religions, I eventually lost all  confidence in myself. There was nobody to depend on, nor anybody to turn to in this environment.

Then one day it struck me that I couldn’t let this unacceptable prejudice rule over me. If I couldn’t fit in to become one of them, I wanted to be my own unique identity. That’s when I believed that one individual may not be able to change the thinking pattern of a whole community, but one individual can start an effect. And it happened. Things changed. I walked into school with a new attitude. I put extra effort into my Arabic, Islamic Studies, and Qur’an classes. In the beginning we all clashed. Little things said and little gestures made were all misinterpreted. But eventually a day came when the little things I did actually mattered because I was different. I slowly came into acceptable existence in the classes, and everybody wanted to hear about my ideas, thoughts, and beliefs. After time, to my surprise, the girls opened their minds and hearts to what I had to say and became aware and motivated to find out about the world beyond their frames.

Just a couple of weeks ago, I was out grocery shopping and walked into a drug store on the way to pick up vitamins. There were two American men that wanted to buy a product at the drug store. Unfortunately, the storekeeper did not speak any English, and the American men did not speak Arabic. There were a few other men in the store, but none of them seemed to know any English.

It was so frustrating because I wanted to help and translate, but was held back because I was a female. And as a female, I had no right to speak up and volunteer to translate. I stood there, just waiting for a miracle. Then one of the American men looked over and asked if I spoke English, then asked if I spoke Arabic. As I translated, the storekeeper was Lebanese and was impressed, while the other local Saudi men in the store all left. I was glad because my frustration was relieved, the men could make their purchase, and I was able to help them out. But at the same time, it made me so angry how those Saudi men just couldn’t respect what I had done, with the reason being that I was female.

…In one corner of my heart, there is a little pouch. A pouch ready to explode of frustration and confinement. But the rest of my heart is ready to face the new society in the States, always known to be the land of freedom. I have a vision, a dream, that four years down the road of life, as I graduate from university, I could look back to this country that is home to me and see some development of individual rights. I dream to live a day back here in Saudi where foreign individuals can be respected, women are not degraded, where women can call out for help and give help to anybody that calls out, and a day where there is freedom of speech.


Esra’a Al Shafei, 19, Bahrain, The Debris of Shattered Dreams
When thinking about the dismal state of my region--the conditions, poverty and suffering--how does one carry on in the face of this knowledge? Certainly joy and innocence are the first casualties of such reality; they are buried along with the human losses, which have been reduced to numbers without families or identities coldly reported by our friend, the media.

I no longer feel safe discussing my opinions publicly. I no longer contribute to magazines and newspapers with socio-political commentary because I have a constant fear of what may be done to me. I was once passionate enough to overcome my fears and submit my work to a local non-government owned newsletter, and in the end they were rejected because it jeopardized the newsletter itself. I felt imprisoned; I felt betrayed. I felt as if I'd rather belong to another country that would allow me to wander freely and say what I want without the looming risk of the police knocking at my door, ready to cart me away to a gloomy prison cell to be harassed by the guards and potentially be beaten and starved. How different, though, is that prison from the intellectual cage I'm automatically put in, where I'm expected to follow orders without questioning them? For how much longer can I not contribute my work without feeling as if I'm compromising my very safety?

Individual rights arm us with the opportunity to act freely in a social context. If my government strictly and unreasonably limits what I can and cannot do then my rights as a human being have been violated. The government has no right to forbid us from saying anything. If we are given the right of freedom of speech, which Article 23 of the Bahrain Constitution allegedly supports, then why are books criticizing our political culture banned from being published? Why are local magazines and newspapers afraid to give me the option to practice this right, which the law has supposedly given to me? Could it be because a signed document is not enough?

If freedom of speech really is guaranteed then why are civil and women's rights activists like Ghada Jamsheer still put on trial for criticizing Bahrain's family law and questioning the credibility of the royal family? The mass media is still highly censored. A document signed with the intention of shedding light upon the country will not fool those of us who are risking our lives for the sake of freedom, which should at least be given to us within the sphere of the media. These rights aren't so anomalous to ask for.

I never fully understood the concept of individual rights until I was deprived of them. How is a nation expected to grow as a civilization if speaking one's mind is illegal? If we are not allowed to criticize, share, and act--all of which are the vehicle for our advancement--how is the flower of our civilization going to blossom and thrive? I'm tired of traveling abroad and being in awe of the opportunities others have and take full advantage of. While abroad, it occurred to me that I was actually ignorant of my own oppression. We are socially controlled by a government that insists on limiting us for the sake of their own private gains.

Mohammed Barghouthi, 22, Jordan – A New Hope
I often wonder what my world would be like ten years from now; would life in the Middle East be any easier? Or would it be just as harsh as it is nowadays? And I often let my deluded mind travel across vast oceans of imagination, until utopian images start to form carrying with them the realization of my generation’s most precious dreams. Then I begin to imagine a prosperous Arab world free of tyranny and repression, governed by democratically elected regimes and liberated from unjust traditions which were falsely incorporated within our religious beliefs.

And as my day-dream continues, I see women occupying leading positions in societies where their rights were once denied. I see an independent and free media playing its powerful rule in overseeing the integrity of the state and its actions. I see non Muslims being treated with the equality and dignity that Islamic states provided for their citizens centuries ago. I see an open minded population expressing and sharing their opinions about all subjects without fear of prosecution. In short, I see the Arab world as it should be today, an Arab world fulfilling the expectations of the millions who died to ensure the independence of their countries, unaware of the fact that their grandchildren will have to struggle again, against themselves, to gain their Freedom.

Then suddenly I find myself awakened by the cruel realities that form my world today, and once again my mind is overwhelmed by an agonizing question: How was oppression tolerated for so long? And how did tyranny endure for so many decades?

But I start to remember the horrifying history of our nations, and I can see where our fathers have failed. They lived in an age with so many confusing ideologies, trapped with gigantic expressions like Nationalism, Socialism and Arab Unity. They lived at a time where individuality was never mentioned, and where everyone had to sacrifice for the prosperity of his country and the glory of his nation. They were all cheated to believe that the confiscation of their birth rights was a small price to pay compared to what their countries had to face. None of them was brave enough to write down the words:

Those magnificent words were once written by wise men who purposely overlooked the long path that laid ahead of their nation. And today, after a costly civil war, after a cold war that produced McCarthy-like radicals, and after a civil rights movement that almost tore their country apart, the creed they have set is still guiding the steps of their grandchildren and forming the shape of their society.

So, stunned by reality and still dizzy from my dreams, the characteristics of my desired society start taking a different yet more realistic form. And a new image is now created, an image of a society aware of the importance of human rights. A society that is no longer apathetic to the needs of its members and where the rights of the weakest and smallest minorities are ensured. A society that pays no attention to gender and religious beliefs, for all men are created equal and shall be judged accordingly by their Creator. A society of men and women working together in pursuit of happiness for all their fellow humans, recognizing that their own happiness would be otherwise at risk.

This will only be the first step in the thousand miles journey, liberating Arab minds from a thousand years of false traditions and misinterpreted beliefs, and being confident that these minds will find their way to a brighter future. As someone once said:

So we keep our candles lit, hoping that their light will spread to overcome the darkness covering our land. We keep our spirits high knowing that one day we will see our countries become what we aspire them to be. And we keep on fighting until we win.

* The Declaration of Independence of the USA
** Noam Chomsky

 

Dalia Ziada, 24, Egypt, Feminine Dream Deferred: The Oppressed Majority
translated from the Arabic original by the author

When I decided to look for my own dream deferred to answer this question: “What is your "dream deferred" - a vision of your society with civil rights for all people?” I discovered that my own dream deferred is not only a dream of me. However, it is the same dream deferred of many persons including men, but most of them are women. This is probably due to the fact that the issue is feminine in the first place, or because women ratio is higher than men ratio on Earth; particularly in my own Arab world. In my world women are as many as raindrops. Yet they have no noteworthy impact on their societies. Despite our number, which is higher, and our abilities, which are larger than men, we – Arab Women – are still treated as a second-class citizens. This way, the day will come for us to be noted in the books of history as “the oppressed majority” of the millennium, or probably of all ages. Actually, I am not a feminist nor I hate men. I just want to tell the story of a mother who behaves like all other mothers in my Arab world in a way that will lead to the prospected collapse of my own dear nation. This mother is my own mother.

I do not even write these words to win the award you promised to grant. If I was lucky enough to be the winner, my mother will never allow me to travel to receive the award. She pays much consideration for what people might say. My mother believes that the respectable girl should not sleep out of her house for any reason whatsoever. “Even if I will travel to attend a conference wherein I will be awarded a prize, Mom?” I asked her with all the power of enthusiasm burning inside me. She replied after choosing her words carefully for not to disappoint me: “we are not living alone, baby. We are governed with some traditions and habits which must be respected”. At this moment the enthusiasm burning inside me turns into ashes after burning the whole of me.

I do not blame my mother. She is an oppressed woman who brings up an oppressed girl! Since my mother came to life, her fate led her to work in the field of teaching generations. She excelled in her work as a teacher. She is an example now. Because she is an example, she must be the most person who respects traditions, and consequently her daughter – and not her son – must keep this in mind. Whatever it costs for my mother and her own daughter to follow the fake rules of traditions, it does not matter. What is much more important is to obey Society and satisfy the expectations of others. Who the hell is this Society? Tell me where he is; I want to kill him to be relieved. Who gave the right to Mr. Society to limit my freedom? God sent me to life as a free creature. He gave me abilities to use. So why does Mr. Society want me to forget all about my abilities? Why does my mother refuse to let me travel and enjoy the pain of eagerness? Why does she want to deprive me from getting mad to feel the joy of anger? Why did my father died before he sees the ambition he stoked in me since my childhood time eating me up day after day, under the eyes of these fetters chaining my hands, legs and tongue. I know that one day Mr. Society will invent a new fetter for minds too. I am quite sure that my mother will be the first to use the new mind-fetter for her self and for me. World is ever-changing and every thing in the world is changeable except one thing. Only one thing. It is the situation of women in my Arab World. Why? Because Mr. Society is proud of keeping women as weak and naïve as possible. Oh, where the hell can I find this thing called Society to kill him? Despite this, I still love you my Arab world even if you insisted to continue your relationship with this so-called Society.

Aha! Now I can understand. “Society” in Arabic is pronounced “Mogtama3”. It is a male name. Yet my mother who is a skilled Arabic teacher says that it is a place name, according to the rules of using and paraphrasing names in the Arabic language. This time I was brave enough to declare my objection. Oh, yes I was brave enough to say “no”. She did not refute my use of the word “no”. So weird and unexpected reaction! Any way thanks God, at last I can say “NO” plainly before my mother; my beloved Dictator. “No mom, the word “Mogtama3” [the Arabic word of Society] sounds like the word “Mohamed”. As long as you agree with me that the word “Mohamed” is a male name, so the word “Mogtama3” is a male name” the brave Dalia [me] said to my mother. She did not reply for a moment, then she said as if she is just awake from a shock “you are trivial, baby” then she said “never ever say this “NO” to me again, the respectable girl knows how to speak to her mother”.   I will not keep it secret; actually I felt relieved when my mother objected on my objection and said “no” to my “NO”! My mother taught me an Arabic Grammar rule saying that: “the exile of negation is prove”. So when my beloved dictator objected on my objection, she proved that my opinion is true!

Every day in the morning I put on a scarf on my hairs and long and baggy clothes on my body and I leave my mother to go to my workplace. However, her teachings accompany me all the way. According to her, when I walk in the street I must walk with my head inclined and my eyes should not look towards any thing but the ground. This is how respectable girls behave. And my mother expects me to be a respectable girl! While in the street, if someone said “hi”, I must firstly make sure that this person is a female and not a male. If it is a female I may reply with a descent low-voiced “hi” and if it was a male I may never reply. Why? Because I am a “respectable girl” who should not salute men! My father used to say that the inclination of one’s head is a sign of weakness and defeat. However, my mother believes that when the girl – and not the boy – inclines her head, this is a sign on being her “respectable girl”. Thanks God, I am not humpbacked yet, although I walk with my head inclined for almost eighteen years.

The road to workplace is crowded all the time. Public transportation is miserable in my country. I begged my mother to buy me a car and she refused. She refused not because she have no enough money, but because of some unreasonable reasons. I was almost to remind her that I am 24 years old now, and I am skilled in driving cars. However, her response was faster than mine; she said “Baby, I know you are not a kid and you are a good driver, but I cannot accept it; that my own daughter drives a car. The respectable girl is not the girl who drives”. What the hell is this? What is the relationship between respectability and driving? “Does it mean that if I drove the car, I would be unrespectable or impolite?” I asked her after short pause. She laughed and said “no honey, I just cannot have confidence in you as a driver” and the reason is that I am a girl. Her reply shocked me, but I smiled in order not to spoil her lovely laughing. After deep and long thinking, I discovered what my mother meant when she said that the respectable girl is the girl who does not drive, steer nor lead. The problem is not in the word “respectable” but in the word “girl” then. As long as I am a girl [i.e. unmarried] and not a woman [i.e. married] I must submit to the traditions enforced by Mr. Society.

I think I will see paradise after getting married. My mother links everything I am deprived of right now with the fact that I am not married. However, I was fool enough to think that she oppresses females in me. When I gave my self a chance to think, I discovered that she is just like me a female living in my Arab world. The only difference is that she is a woman and I am a girl! When I wanted to travel to study cinema in USA after struggling for two years to win a scholarship, my mother refused for no reason but being me a virgin girl; unmarried girl. She said that I have to postpone my dreams until I have a man in my life. This man is my prospected husband. She said with her usual angry calm voice “no respectable girl dares to travel alone before getting married. And that who has no husband should be patient and must stop dreaming until she gets a husband”. I could not help. I shouted deep inside me while smiling at her face in order not to let her notice that I am angry: “O’ mother! What the hell are you saying? Do you want me to defer my dream just because I do not have a man to accompany me? You are fool mom and I will not listen to your commands anymore. I will do what I want”. She then went to her room to watch TV, and I heard these words shouting deep inside of me: “out of sever pain I shouted “NO” / But my voice was weak enough to go / and the “NO” reverberated to me as “YES”.

I know I was so young to rebel. I was only 20! So I could not object, or probably I did not learn it at the time. Actually, I remember I was able once to rebel, say “NO” and insist on my own “no”. That was in the age of fourteen. I wanted to join a summer seminar held in the public library of the neighborhood I live in to learn how to use Personal Computer. My mother refused as usual. But this time the reason was not being respectable nor unrespectable girl. The reason was that she planned a program for my summer holiday. According to my mother, her program was much more important than learning how to use PC. Mother’s training program dealt with the methods, tools and techniques of house cleaning, cooking, baby setting, shopping, meeting guests, etc. Mother believe that if the “respectable girl” learnt nothing but how to take care for her house, it is enough because that is the role supposed to be played by “respectable girl” and nothing else. I was brave enough to object. Actually, my father was the one who objected for me. “Your daughter is ambitious, you have to thank God” he said to her. This sentence in particular was engraved on my blood and became my logo and slogan all my life. I attended the PC training program as I wanted and I learnt house-cleaning staff, as she wanted. Where is my father now to rebel for me?

That is what I am. I always want to rebel through someone. Or let’s put it more clearly, I always want to rebel through some man. I am not that weak and my father was not that strong. Father, mother and I are humans. We have the same characteristics, which is classified as human features. My father is a man; just like Mr. Society. So why do I seek his support and protection? No … No … No, I do not need to rebel through some man anymore. I can do it myself. I have just said three “NO’s” and it is not difficult to say hundreds of it. All I need is to see my path more clearly and learn how to rebel. So, could you please teach me and other females in my Arab world how to utter the word “NO” to infuriate “Mr. Society”, even if my mother and their mothers regarded them and me as “unrespectable girls”? Could you please support us to make our feminine dream deferred come true?

Dalia Ziada, 24, Egypt

أحلامهن المؤجلة: الاغلبية المضطهدة في بلادي

عندما رحت أبحث عن حلمي المؤجل و إجابة للسؤال ما هو "حلمك المؤجل" أي رؤيتك لمجتمعك حيث يمتلك فيه الكل حقوقهم المدنية؟  أكتشف أن حلمي لم يكن حلمي وحدي و لكنه هو نفس الحلم المؤجل لدي الكثيرين , منهم رجال و أكثرهم نساء ربما لأن القضية هي مسألة نسائية في المقام الأول , أو ربما بسبب كثرة عدد النساء عن عدد الرجال في عالمي و بلادي العربية , تلك الكثرة التي تشبيه غثاء السيل , حيث أننا يا معشر نساء العرب على الرغم من تجاوز أعدادنا و قدراتنا و مهاراتنا علي الرجال ما زلنا نعامل كمواطنين من الدرجة الثانية لنصبح ما سيقول عنه المؤرخون في يوم من الأيام "الأغلبية المضطهدة" , أنا لا أتبع إحدى الحركات النسائية و لست أكره الرجال و لكني أردت فقط أن أحكي قصتي مع أمي التي لعبت دورا لا بأس به في انهيار حضارة أمتي.

 

 أنا  لا أكتب كذلك من منطلق الطموح بالفوز في هذه المسابقة لأنني حتى لو فزت لن يسمحوا لي بالسفر لحفل التكريم فمثلي مثل النساء الأخريات في بلادي لن تسمح أمي لي بالسفر خوفا من كلام الناس , فمن غير اللائق أن تنام البنت المحترمة خارج بيتها و لو لليلة واحدة , "حتى لو كنت سأحضر مؤتمرا لتكريمي و الفوز بجائزة مثل هذه يا أمي" قلت لها بحماس كاد يحرقني , فرددت و هي تخاف أن تخيب أملي "لسنا وحدنا في هذا الكون, نحن تحكمنا عادات و تقاليد يجب احترامها".

 

 أنا لا ألوم أمي فهي في النهاية مضطهدة تربي مضطهدة , أمي خرجت للدنيا و ساقتها الأقدار إلى احتراف مهنة تعليم الأجيال و تفوقت في عملها حتى صارت قدوة الجميع و لأنها قدوة لا يجوز أن تخالف أبنتها العادات و التقاليد , مهما كان ذلك سيكلفها , لا يهم المهم المجتمع و الآخرين , من هذا المجتمع لأقتله , لماذا يحدد حريتي بهذه الصورة ألم يخلقني الله حرة؟ ألم يعطيني قدرات لأستغلها , لماذا يريد ذلك الذي يسمونه "مجتمع" كبتها بداخلي لماذا تريد أمي أن تحرمني من السفر و تحرمني من متعة الاشتياق بل و تحرمني من الغضب و قسوة الاستياء , لماذا توفي أبي قبل أن يري الطموح الذي زرعه بي منذ نعومة أظافري و هو يلتهم أجزائي يوم بعد الأخر وسط القيود التي أثقلت يداي و قدماي و ربما ستثقل عقلي أيضا عما قريب ! فالكون كله يتغير و الدنيا تتطور إلا حال النساء في بلادي , لأن ذلك مصدر فخر لذلك الذي يسمونه مجتمع , أين هو فقط دلوني على مكانه لأقتله و أستريح و أريح الأخريات في بلادي , كم أحبك يا بلادي لولا أنك مصرة علي الاقتران بذلك الذي يسمونه مجتمع.

 

"مجتمع" , نعم "مجتمع" كيف لم انتبه لذلك من قبل , "مجتمع" أسم مذكر , لكن أمي تقول و هي أستاذة كبيرة في اللغة العربية أنه أسم مكان نظرا لبدايته بحرف الميم المضمومة و فتح الحرف الثالث به لكنني رفضت و قلت لها "لا" نعم قولتها و هي لم تعترض علي جرأتي في قول "لا" هذه المرة , ربما للدهشة؟ لا ادري , المهم أنا أخيرا و الحمد لله اعترضت و قلت لها "لا ... لا يا أمي ... لا" ما اجمل كلمة "لا" , قلت لها "لا يا أمي مجتمع أسم مذكر , أليس "محمد" أسم مذكر و يبدأ بميم مضمومة و ثالث حرف مفتوح , فما الفرق إذن بين "محمد" و "مجتمع" , فأشاحت أمي بيدها و قالت "أنت تافهة يا ابنتي" فابتسمت فقالت لي و كأنها أفاقت من صدمة "لا تقولين لي كلمة "لا" هذه مرة أخري , البنت المحترمة تعرف كيف تختار الألفاظ عندما تتحدث مع أمها" شعرت بارتياح لا أنكر, و لا أخفيكم سرا أيضا أني كنت سأصاب بإحباط إن لم تعترض أمي علي اعتراضي , ففي قاعدة من قواعد اللغة العربية التي علمتني أمي إياها يكون نفي النفي إثبات و بما أنها اعترضت علي اعتراضي فإنها تثبت صحة كلامي.

 

تركت أمي و ارتيدت ملابسي ثم الحجاب الذي أغطي به شعري ثم الحذاء و خرجت من البيت بعد أن قبلت أمي كالمعتاد قاصدة عملي , خرجت من البيت و أنا مطأطئة الرأس عيناي لا يرتفعان عن الأرض حتى لو ألقي أحد علي السلام لن أرد إلا بصوت خافت لا يكاد يسمعه إلا من سلم علي , عذرا أقصد من سلمت علي فلا يجوز لي بما أنى "بنت محترمة" أن أحي الرجال أو أقبل تحية من الرجال في الشارع , فأنا لا أسلم إلا علي النساء , كان أبي يقول لي أن طأطأة الرأس تعني الهزيمة و الانكسار و يجب أن أسير دوما و رأسي مرفوعة , لكن أمي تقول و كانت دوما تقول أن طأطأة الرأس علامة علي الأدب و حسن الخلق , الحمد لله لم يتسبب لي الأمر في تشوه في ظهري أو ما شابه علي الرغم من أني أسير مطأطئة الرأس منذ ما يقرب من ثماني عشرة سنة.

 

الطريق مزدحم و هو هكذا كل يوم , والمواصلات متعبة و مملة , ألححت علي أمي كثيرا لتشتري لي سيارة فرفضت , و بررت ذلك بعدة أسباب أولها أنى لست أهلا لقيادة السيارة , و قبل أن أذكرها بأن عمري الآن 24 سنة و ليس هناك مشكلة في قيادتي للسيارة , قالت لي و كأنها قرأت أفكاري "أنا عارفة أنك كبيرة و أنك ماهرة في القيادة , لكنني لا أحب أن تقود ابنتي التي يعرف الجميع أنها بنت محترمة سيارة" , تركتها و رحت أفكر ما دخل الاحترام بقيادة السيارة , هل إذا قدت سيارة سأصبح قليلة الاحترام؟ أو قليلة الأدب؟ رحت و سألتها السؤال فرددت بعد أن ضحكت و قهقهت من أعماق قلبها "لا يا حبيبتي أنا لا أأتمنك على قيادة سيارة لأنك  بنت" صدمني الرد و لكني لم أحب أن أفسد ضحكاتها الرائعة و ابتسمت و كأنني فهمت مقصدها , ولكنني في الحقيقة لم أفهم و حتى اليوم لم أفهم هل لكوني "بنت محترمة" علي حد تعبير أمي لا يصح أن أقود , أه ربما تقصد أمي أنه لا يجوز قيادة السيارة إلا بعد أن أتزوج و أصبح "سيدة محترمة" و ليس مجرد "بنت محترمة" , أه ! الآن فهمت المشكلة في كلمة "بنت" و ليس كلمة "محترمة" إذن.

 

أعتقد أني سأدخل الجنة بعد الزواج , لأن أمي تربط كل شيء تمنعني منه الآن بأني "بنت" و أنا بمنتهى الغباء فهمت أنها تضطهد النساء في شخصي , لكني عندما فكرت وجدت أنها هي أيضا امرأة من بين اللواتي يعشن في بلادي , فالمشكلة إذن تكمن في أني لست "سيدة" , فعندما أردت أن أسافر في يوم من الأيام لدراسة السينما في الولايات المتحدة بعد محاولات مضنية و مئات المراسلات التي بذلت فيها الجهد الكبير لأحصل علي منحة لدراسة السينما في هوليود , رفضت أمي أن تدعني أسافر وقالت أني ممنوعة من السفر و محددة الإقامة حتى يأتيني الفارس المنشود علي حصانه الأبيض ليلف بي العالم و أينما أحب سيأخذني , و قالت بهدوئها الغاضب الذي أدمنته "البنت المحترمة لا تسافر وحدها بل مع زوجها , ومن ليس لها زوج تؤجل كل شيء حتى يصبح لها زوج" , ثرت في وجهها دون أن أتحرك من مكاني و صرخت بداخلي دون أن تلاحظ هي علي وجهي إلا ابتسامة "أمي ماذا تقولين , ماذا أؤجل أتريدينني أن أؤجل حلمي الذي جريت ورائه سنوات لمجرد أني لست بصحبة رجل يسمونه زوجي؟ أنت لا تفهمين شيئا يا أمي و لن أسمع كلامك هذه المرة و سأفعل ما أريد" صرخت في صمت مميت , فتركتني و قامت , و لسان حالي يردد قول الشاعر "صرخت لا من شدة الألم / فخاف صدى صوتي من الموت / و أرتد لي نعم" .

 

أنا أعرف أني كنت صغيرة جدا وقتها , لم يتجاوز عمري العشرين سنة فقط ! لذلك لم أستطع الاعتراض أو ربما لم أتعلمه بعد , و لكني أذكر أني اعترضت مرة قديما عندما كنت في الرابعة عشرة من عمري و أردت الاشتراك في دورة صيفية مجانية لتعليم الكمبيوتر في المكتبة العامة التابعة للحي الذي أسكن فيه , و رفضت أمي اشتراكي في الدورة لأنها أعدت لي برنامج مسبق سيستهلك أجازه الصيف بالكامل , برنامج أهم بكثير من تعلم الكمبيوتر من وجهة نظرها , فهو برنامج لتعلم شئون البيت من تنظيف و طهي و شراء و تسوق , الخ , لأن من وجهة نظر أمي "البنت المحترمة" يجب أن تتعلم شئون تدبير بيتها قبل أي شيء أخر , وبعد أن تتقن أمور البيت تتعلم ما تريد , و لكنني اعترضت أو بالأحرى أبي هو الذي أعترض بالنيابة عني و قال لها جملة حفرت على دمي حتى صارت مكونا ثالثا مع الكرات الحمراء و البيضاء التي يتكون منها دمي , قال لها "ابنتك طموحة احمدي ربك" , و ذهبت و تعلمت الكمبيوتر في مكتبة الحي و كنت أتعلم أيضا شئون المنزل كما تريد أمي , و لكن أين أبي الآن ليعترض بالنيابة عني و يسمح لي بالثورة من خلاله.

 

هكذا أنا دائما أهوي الاعتراض من خلال أحد , هل أنا ضعيفة إلى هذا الحد و هل أبي قوي إلي هذا الحد , لا أظن فأنا و هو و أمي بشر كلنا نتفق في الصفات العامة التي تجعلنا بشر , ومن هو أبي , أليس رجلا هو الأخر مثل السيد / "مجتمع" , فلماذا احتمي به أو أعيش في أطلال متعة الاعتراض و الثورة من خلاله , لا  .. لا .. أنا لم أعد أحتاج للثورة من خلاله أنا أستطيع أن أثور لأني أريد أن أثور , أنا فقط لا أري الطريق بوضوح و لم أتعلم الثورة بعد , فهل لكم أن تعلموني كيف أنطق كلمة "لا" و أخرج لساني لهذا الذي يسمونه السيد "مجتمع" حتى لو اعتبرتني أمي "بنت غير محترمة"؟! هل ساعدتموني لأحقق حلمي و أحلامهن المؤجلة؟

الشرق الاوسط : بين الخوف و الامل

الفرد هو اللبنة الاساسية في بناء اي مجتمع فوجوده ضروري لقيام هذا البناء و البناء ايضا ضروري لاعطاء اللبنة قيمة و اهمية فكل منهما بحاجة ماسة للآخر. و ما دام الفرد هو اساس وجود المجتمع فإن إعطاءه حقوقه الاساسية ضروري جدا ليس فقط لمصلحة الفرد بعينه و انما من اجل قوه و رفعة المجتمع الذي ينتمي اليه الفرد ؛ لا بد ان هذه الكلمات تم سماعها ملايين المرات فهي اصبحت مجرد نظريات جامدة يصعب تطبيقها على ارض الواقع و خاصة في منطقة الشرق الاوسط و التي اعتدت على تسميتها ( مقبرة الاحياء ) .

 إن من المتفق عليه عالميا ان القمع الفكري هو من اخطر انواع القمع اذا ما نظرنا الى الآثار السلبية التي يخلفها هذا القمع على تأخر و تدهور المجتمع افرادا و جماعات , و لكن للأسف ان هذا تماما ما تعاني منه الأغلبية العظمى من سكان الشرق الاوسط ـــ و أنا بالتاكيد في مقدمتهم ـــ حتى اصبح الواحد منا لا يجرى على التفوه بكلمة واحدة تخصص الاوضاع الراهنة في المنطقة او ان يبدى مجرد رأيه فيها فالكلام في السياسة مثلاَ من اكبر الكبائر فهي اشد من قتل النفس بغير حق ؛ و حالنا هذا يذكرني بقصة حلاق الملك مايدس الذي اطلع على حقيقة ان للملك اذني حمار و عندما لم يتمكن من تحمل السكوت على ما اطلع عليه و ضع راسه في حفرة في الارض و افشى ذلك السر ؛ فهل يجب على كل واحد منا ان يجد له حفرته الخاصة به ليضع رأسه فيها و يتكلم كما يشاء و لكن الخوف كل الخوف ان ان تخوننا الريح كما فعلت مع الحلاق البائس عندما حملت كلماته من الحفرة و نشرتها ؛ اذن مالحل؟ و الى متى سنبقى هكذا؟

شعوري بوجود القمع الثقافي بدأ منذ سن مبكرة في حياتي , فقد كانت من اهم هواياتي في المدرسة هي الكاريكاتير  ( caricature) و في احدى المرات ابتدعت صورة كاريكاتيرية جميلة تصف حادثة سياسية شغلت الساحة المحلية في ذلك الوقت , في الحقيقة اني كنت فخورا جدا بما رسمت فحملت تلك الصورة و عرضتها على معلم التربية الفنية , فعندما رآها المعلم سارع بإخفائها ثم انهال علي بالشتم وقال:" انت بدك تضيعني و تضيع نفسك ؟ " ثم استدعى المعلم مدير المدرسة و قام المدير بتوبيخي ايضا ثم طلب مني ان اذهب الى البيت و احضر والدي ثم طلب منه المدير التوقيع على تهعد ان لااقوم بمثل هذا العمل الخطير مرة اخرى ثم همس في أذن والدي قائلا: " دير بالك على ابنك و إلا بيضيع من إيديك." و من ذلك الوقت حرمت من مزاولة هذه الهواية حتى في السر.

كم من أناس اعرفهم لديهم عقول متفتحة وأفكار بنائه ولكن الابواب جميعها اوصدت في ووجوهم وهاهم الآن و كأنهم غير موجودين . كنت استغرب لم يسعى كل انسان طموح في منطقتنا الى الهجرة الى اوروبا او امريكا و خاصة ما يعرف بـ (هجرة الكفاءات) , فقد كنت من أشد الرافضين لهذه الفكرة على الاطلاق و لكن بعد ما اطلعت و لو بشكل قليل على الوضع الراهن اصبح من اول الباحثين عن فرصة للهجرة الى الخارج فأنا اشعر انني مدفون وانا حي .

و هنالك سؤال آخر كنت دائما اطرحة على نفسي لماذا لم يظهر في منطقتنا كتّاب مبدعين ؟ فهل الابداع مفقود من منطقتنا ؟ طبعا الجواب هو ان الابداع موجود في كل مكان في العالم فهو لا يخص شعبا دون آخر او عرقاَ دون عرق ولكن العبرة هي في الاهتمام بالمبدعين  و تشجيعهم و بهذا تصبح الاجابة عن السؤال الاول بسيطة. تفاجئت قبل شهور عدة و انا ابحث على شبكة الانترنت عن بعض المواضيع التي تخص دراستي في الادب انني وجد مقالات و مواقع غربية وامريكية كثيرة تتحدث عن كتّاب عرب مثل  محمد مرابط المغربي و غسان كنفاني الفلسطيني وغيرهم الكثير, و للأسف انها كانت المرة الاولى التي اسمع فيها بهذه الاسماء التي استنتجت انها معروفة في الغرب و في امريكا بشكل كبير. فإذا كان المتخصص بالأدب مثلي لأول مرة يسمع بهولاء الكتاب فكيف بغير المتخصص؟

انا شخصيا اتفق مع عبارة المصلح الانجليزي التي تقول:" بدون حرية التفكير لا يمكن أن يوجد شئ يدعى الحكمة و لا شئ يدعى الحرية العامة بدون حرية التعبير." فهذا ما ينطبق على و ضعنا في الوقت الحاضر فالحكمة مفقودة و الحرية العامة تحتضر, فهل تصح الحياة بدونهما؟

نورا منصور

لا يضيع حق وراءه مطالب

ها هي الشمس ترسل بخيوطها الذهبية مرة أخرى....ها هي أشعتها تبدد سحب الظلام مؤذنة ببزوغ فجر جديد...أمام مرآتها وقفت هي تتفقد وجهها كالعادة....ابتسمت.....عاد بها شريط الذكريات لعهد بات ماضيا مؤلما،ايام كان ذلك الوحش البشري يرسم بسوطه إذلالا" على جسدها...و كان يوم، فيه استجمعت قواها مرة واحدة، و انتفضت على واقعها المرير، و على كل الضعف الذي غرسه أجدادها في كيانها، فقط لأنها إمرأة،اعترضت،و تقدمت بشكوى للسلطات القضائية، و تمكنت من الحصول على حق من حقوقها...الحياة بكرامة، و من يومها أيقنت انه بمقدورها ان تستمر،في المطالبة، لتحصد باقي حقوقها و حريتها التي ضمنتها لها المواثيق الدولية و تم حمايتها بحكم القانون بموجب الاعلان العالمي لحقوق الإنسان لأهميتها البالغة.

أعدت نفسها للخروج للعمل و في رأسها آلاف الأفكار، قالت لنفسها: نحن نعيش الآن في مجتمع حر يتمتع فيه كل شخص بكامل حرياته الأساسية التي توفر له رفاهيته و تمكنه من تطوير شخصيته و حياته. لقد عرفت الحكومة الجديدة التي تم انتخابها بانتخابات نزيهة،بعدما تشكلت دولة فلسطينية مستقلة بجانب جارتها الإسرائيلية، مدى أهمية منح الإنسان لتلك الحريات،التي تؤدي مصادرتها أو تحديدها بشكل تعسفي إلى إلحاق الضرر بحقوق الإنسان و بأسس النظام الديمقراطي، و يؤثر سلبا" على الثبات و الإستقرار. كما أن المجتمع أظهر دينامية و قدرة أكبر على التطور و التحسن عندما صار مؤلفا" من أعضاء أحرار و قادرين على استغلال طاقاتهم للتقدم حتى أضحت اليوم فلسطين من أولى الدول المتقدمة. و من أجل  ضمان هذه الحريات إرتأت الحكومة الجديدة أن يتم فصل السلطات و تحقيق سيادة القانون و الحفاظ على استقلالية القضاء و التعددية و إحترام مبدأ المواطنة و  بأن الشعب هو صاحب السيادة. لقد كان أكبر الأثر في حدوث كل هذه التغيرات الجذرية ما قامت به الجمعيات الأهلية و تنظيمات حقوق الإنسان و الأحزاب السياسية المتنورة من عمل دؤوب هدف إلى حماية الحريات و الحقوق امام نزوع السلطة إلى تضخيم قوتها و الإستهتار بحياة مواطنيها و مصادرة أبسط حقوقهم في حرياتهم الأساسية، و تقوم هذه الفئات و بشكل دوري بمراجعة القوانين للتأكد من التزامها بمعايير حقوق الانسان المتفق عليها دوليا".

بدأت باستذكار كل الحريات و الحقوق المدنية التي حصلت عليها مع أبناء شعبها و التي كانت في يوم حلم صعب المنال. إن أولى الحقوق التي تم صيانتها،هي حقنا في الحياة، فقد اندثرت كل مظاهر الفلتان الأمني و الإشتباكات المسلحة و فوضى السلاح التي كانت تسود في فلسطين بعدما تمت مصادرة كل الأسلحة من أيدي العامة، و صار الإنسان آمنا" على حياته و أطفاله.
إننا الآن في مجتمع ضمن لنا الحرية الشخصية، نختار المهنة التي نحب، و هنالك حماية من البطالة، و أنا كفتاة لي الحق في اختيار الزوج و لا يستطيع أحد إجباري على ما لا أريد.
نحن الآن نملك الحرية الكاملة بالتعبير عن آرائنا و أفكارنا، فنحن نستطيع التعبير بكل الوسائل: عن طريق الكلام أو الكتابة  أو تنظيم المظاهرات و المسيرات السلمية أو عقد الاجتماعات و ما إلى ذلك من أشكال الاحتجاج، فلا أحد يقمعنا. لقد أثر ذلك بشكل ايجابي على وسائل الإعلام التي تحولت إلى تجسيد لحرية التعبير في النظام الديمقراطي المطبق في فلسطين، كما أنها أزالت بعض القيود التي كانت قد فرضتها الرقابة على المقالات و المسرحيات قبل عرضها أو نشرها، مما أدى إلى ظهور إبداع في الحركة الفنية و السياسية..........تنهدت.......كم من صحف أغلقت و كم من أفراد حوكموا بسبب العقوبات التي كانت تفرضها السلطة على المعارضة.
و بما أننا الآن منحنا حرية الفكر و الوجدان فنحن نحصل على المعلومات من كل نوع من مصادرها و بشكل موثوق حتى أكون فكرا" مستقلا" عن غيري. و لأنني أصبحت أعيش في سلام مع جيراننا الإسرائيلين فأنا أتمكن من الذهاب إلى المسجد الأقصى و كنيسة القيامة متى أشاء، فلا أحد يحرمني من حريتي في العقيدة و العبادة.

و تذكرت أيام كانت تقف بالساعات على الحواجز العسكرية تحت المطر و سطوة الصيف، أما الآن فهي تتنقل  و تذهب إلى أي مكان تريد من دون خوف، ففي الصيف تنوي الذهاب إلى حيفا التي حرمت منها و أجدادها ثمان و خمسين عاما". كانت إزالة جدار الفصل العنصري من أهم الأسباب التي أدت للمصالح&#