Diana from Syria: By telling my story I would like to encourage other women to decide for a free life.
A chilled Sunday (22nd November 2015) in Bochum/Germany filled with films from Tunisia and Germany that together give insights into the different social, cultural and political realities of women*.
An event presented by Equal for Equal in the framework of the Cultural Innovation Day 2015 of the Cultural Innovators Network, in collaboration with Feminismus im Pott and Zukunftsakademie NRW.
Further details about the programm are given in the flyer (german | english) or on Facebook.
My name is Isra, I am a 22 year old medical student from Libya. I don’t know when I first caught on that I wasn’t an equal part of my society, that I was less, weaker than the men that purportedly ‘ran’ things when in reality women seemed to be doing all the work, without the due recognition or credit. From childhood, compliments about my looks or being called “aroosa” (bride) always managed to irritate me, they never held any weight because they never spoke of me as a person, only as a visually pleasing shell, a fact made worse because the boys around were being complimented on their smarts and their accomplishments, things within their control, rather than their physical attributes. As a young woman, being told not to chew gum or food in public because “ladies eat at home.” As a medical student, my first time in the operating room, being told by the anesthesiologist that “You shouldn’t bother with surgery, women are only suited to gynecology and pediatrics,” because, “those are less demanding and you wouldn’t be able to handle the more difficult specialties,” (never mind that it’d be difficult to find a single doctor that’ll tell you dealing with pregnant women, childbirth, or young children is a walk in the park).
I don’t have any grand big story of unfairness, any huge injustice, only small anecdotes that all women have on the receiving end… And really, I think that’s the biggest crime of all. It’s easy to identify and to combat a problem when it’s big, unavoidable, undeniable.. but when its small cultural rules, little anecdotes made here and there, it’s harder to pinpoint the underlying cause, it’s difficult to say “ah yes, you say that because we live in a world where women are inherently presumed inadequate, weaker, less.”
Knowing you are an equal and being treated as such are two very different things. I hope the day comes when the latter is the reality, when I don’t have to wonder if the mark I got in a class is because my oral examiner thought my nervous smiles were flirtatious ones, the day when footsteps behind me isn’t a cause for alarm, when a cop pulling me over is because I’ve actually done something wrong and not because he wants to start a conversation. These creeping inequalities on a day to day basis may seem like nothing, and they’re constantly minimized, as much by society as they are by us ourselves. But the reality is they make for, at best, an uneasy existence for half the world’s population, and at worst, a danger to our lives and wellbeing.
If there’s anything I want from this generation, it’s not to be treated as an equal – I realize that’s a goal far too high for most in our society to reach – but just to realize the undercurrent of their actions. Take notice of the inequalities around them, the ones they play a part in, whichever part that may be. We can’t expect to change something we have yet to realize is even happening. Only when we take notice, become aware, can we begin to alter the course of our actions.
The following movie shows two scenes which were developed during the Equal in the Streets workshop in Palestine and got performed at the Kamal Nasser Hall Building at Birzeit University and at Ottoman Courtyard in Ramallah in November 2014.
The first scene is about a widow woman who faces a lot of pressure from her family and her society after the death of her husband. In this scene, we see the family of her husband trying to limit her freedom of movement, her right to go to work and to be an independent citizen. They pressure her to marry her husband’s brother to avoid the talk of the town and to let him be financially responsible for the family.
The second scene addresses the issue of women’s social life at night. It discusses how the family itself tries to oppress the daughter and makes her stay at home while allowing her brother to freely practice his social life. The girls’ mother calls the girl and ask her to come back home immediately because her father ordered so. The scene also shows how this gender oppression is transferred from generation to generation of the family: the grandfather, the father, the brother and even the mother herself.
The following movie tells the story of Ahlam from Jordan. The performance was developed during the Equal in the streets workshop in Jordan and was performed at Hashemite Plaza in Amman in Jordan in 2014.
Ahlam is a girl who lives in Jordan and is suffering from gender inequality. Her father prevents her from going outside, even if she wants to visit a female friend for study purposes. On the other hand he allows her brother to go wherever he wants. Ahlam is married to a man who has the same believes like her father. Her husband doesn’t respect her, and he believes that the only role for woman in life is to stay at home to take care of the children and to do domestic work. Ahlam is dreaming everyday: What might happen if the roles of men and women change ? In the performance, “Streetshow band” a group performs the actual life and dream of Ahlam. The performance is also based on the interaction with the audience. They get asked how the shown conflict can be solved and contribute ideas.
The following movie shows the final performance of the German workshop of “Equal in the streets” which took place in a mall in Magdeburg.
The theatre group developed two performances about gender inequality during the workshop. One is about a girl who does not like to wear skirts nor to shave her legs. Her younger sister tries to convince her to do so and their mother does not have any understanding at all why one daughter refuses to behave in a way that some people might say it is appropriate in society. The father just reads his newspaper and does not care about the conflict.
The other performance is about a young mother who is working in a successful business. During a presentation she gets a call from the kindergarten and she has to pick up her sick child. Her boss threatens her with dismissal if she leaves. The secretary of the boss just cares about his own job and the colleague of the young mother is not a big help either. With which ideas will the audience come up to solve those conflicts? Just have a look!
Many Americans refer to their high school experience as a nightmare, but this was absolutely not the case for me. I thrived both socially and academically; I felt comfortable vocalizing my opinion during class, and I was active in the student leadership circles. The notion of ‘sexism’ remained a concept in abstraction – I never imagined it could affect me personally.
Now, I’m finishing a Gender Studies degree at one of the most prestigious institutions in the US, which also happens to be a women’s college. At 22 years old, I’m the chair of the feminist student group and a Gender Studies liaison. My high school self would be scoffing at my current situation.
After finishing up traditional American high school, I spent a year working and traveling around Europe. Winter brought the college application process, and I was cajoled into applying to my current university by my older brother. I argued with him about it for ages. Why would I want to spend four years at an institution that excludes men? I didn’t even hang out with that many girls in high school. A bunch of girls living together wouldn’t that just be catty and dramatic?
Eventually I chose to trust my brother’s wisdom.
Springtime finds me working at a backpacker’s hostel in Istanbul. I’ve been accepted at almost all of my top schools, and I have yet to make a choice. There are three American boys sitting in the lobby, chatting and joking. I take in their casual confidence, their cheeky grins and floppy hair. There is nothing particularly striking about any of them; each represents the easy masculinity of the young American male. One makes a bad joke and I giggle reflexively.
I’ll never forget this moment. The giggle bubbles up out of me like an involuntary throat contraction. It’s girly and sweet. The boys continue talking, but I’m stuck listening to the reverberations of that giggle. That giggle, reflexively bunched at the base of my subconscious, is an effort to feminize myself around what my body recognizes as a masculine presence. The boy’s joke was not funny. I had giggled myself into a moment of clarity. I was feminizing myself around them. I have to work out these issues, I realize. Why should I have to do that work at the same time as my studies?
One part of my high school self has never changed – I am still dedicated to my academic work. At my women’s college, the emphasis on collectivity and community leaves no room for cattiness or vicious competition. The absence of the male gaze fosters an environment of body-positivity and self-love. This structure allows for a a sense of welcome for women from all walks of life. I’ve never encountered peer support in an institution that could rival what I’ve experienced. The goal is to foster a community in which women have greater access to engage in academic opportunities.
I wish I could tell my high school self all the things I know now. My journey from strong-headed adolescent to ardent feminist has been literally life-changing.
In America, oppression of women has been largely absorbed as infrastructural violence. Femininity is associated not with strength, but passivity. A long history of sexism has erased the femaleness from the cultural narrative, so the majority of celebrated historical figures are men. A women-only space, specifically in an institute of higher learning, cultivates a healthy relationship with one’s ego and advances opportunities of academic advancement.
I was lucky that high school was never a nightmare for me. Nowadays, I am confident that attending a women’s college will help me fulfill my dreams.
I am Momal Mushtaq, a women’s rights activist and an aspiring social entrepreneur from Pakistan, and this is my story. I know I can’t change the world, but at least am trying, because I know I wouldn’t be happy otherwise.
Back in university, like many other girls in my class, a private van would pick up and drop me off. If I had ever wanted to go anywhere else, like the shops or the hospital, my father or brother would accompany me to and from the venue. I thought that was maybe how life is supposed to be. It is only when I had experienced an alternative way of living that I started questioning my previous lifestyle. During my time in Germany, nobody stared at me or passed nasty comments as I walked by alone. I could go wherever and whenever I wanted to!
However, when I returned to Pakistan, it began to hurt me more than ever to realise that the country is sinking below the waterline with a barrage of social problems hitting her from all directions. From the scourge of poverty, the stink of corruption, the madness of extremism to what-not! Almost half of Pakistan’s population — her womenfolk — sits back at home, not because they want to, but because they don’t have a choice. There’s no law restricting free mobility of women in Pakistan, but the harassment that they face on streets or while taking public transportation have limited their movement. Those who can, drive private vehicles, which is rather expensive. Or, they travel with a male chaperone.
Since I could not take it any longer, I decided to launch the Freedom Traveller (TFT) http://thefreedomtraveller.com/ an online platform to connect and empower female travellers, especially from countries where freedom of movement for women is highly restricted. On TFT, women of all nationalities and beliefs could actively network, share knowledge and resources, and map their experiences during their travels. That is the least I could do, considering the resources that I had. I felt that if women read about other women who are courageous enough to travel alone in their communities or across borders, other females would be encouraged to follow suit.
Freedom is an abstract quality that mature minds acknowledge exists. It is something you can talk, write, or think about, but if you have not actually experienced it, you cannot feel her essence. I developed a strong desire to help women experience what it really means to be free because I have been freed from the grinding restriction of mobility that my life had suffered. Enabling women to be independent would also have an positive impact on the country’s economy, too.
I also knew that I could not go about preaching the message of freedom if I did not practice it myself. That could be the reason why I had learned to drive — so I could move about more freely in Pakistan. Occasionally, I go for a jog and ride a bicycle around my neighborhood but, in my heart, I know that it is never as comfortable as it is abroad, because every time I venture out I sense creepy eyes boring into me. But, that is not an excuse to give up. To change, I have to be the change!
I have promised to challenge myself every summer for the next ten years. This year, for instance, I cycled all the way from Muenster to Aachen, Germany — some 200km, to be precise! I did it to prove to every female around the world that there is no one stopping them from achieving their dreams. The unashamedly ecstatic waves of pleasure I had felt riding a bicycle, accompanied with a great sense of accomplishment, cannot be simply put into words. That is why I am not even going to describe it, because you should try it.
Finally, I would like to admit that this journey of self-discovery has not been easy. The deviations from the regular life path of a 25-year-old girl of Pakistani heritage in the land of the pure have been remarkable by any standards of Pakistani society, but if I were to be given a letter informing me that I were to return to square one, I would burn the letter! Today, I may be burdened with a lifelong mission of promoting gender equality, but I am also blessed with a purpose. And as they say, a life without purpose is, well, pointless.