symphonie doux-amère

REPOST: Grabbing the World by the Lapels and Reclaiming our Future

Sun, 10 Jun 2012 16:50:00 -0400

Three months and one week from now will mark the 4th anniversary of my divorce from a short-lived, not-so-holy matrimony. It lasted for a mere month and a half, and then dissolved after it became clear to me that I was being used as a pawn for a Green Card. I witnessed marriages unravel all around me - my own brother, unlucky girls from the Mosque, fickle Hollywood celebrities - but never had I imagined I would be plastered on the front page of that gossip column. Never in a million years would I have thought I would be married and divorced all within the 21st year of my blossoming youth.

As a female of Pakistani descent and Ahmadi-Muslim religious persuasion, the concept of marriage had been subliminally embedded in my mind from a young age. I remember the secret chatter amongst my girlfriends and I, in the little nook of the mosque where we’d gather during the few minutes between Sunday School and afternoon prayer, almost always being about which boy was the cutest and who would end up marrying whom within our very small, close-knit community (as marrying outside of the Ahmadi sect is blasphemous). Often times I would notice my friends placing more importance on their physical presentation when going to the mosque than when attending school or taking a trip to the movies and mall. One would think because those are the typical hang-outs for teenagers that the girls would be most concerned with looking their best in those settings, but it was quite the contrary. I remember my Catholic and Christian friends complaining about having to get up early to dress up for church on Sunday mornings, and here my mosque-friends and I were discussing what to wear the night before. Now, I often find myself puzzled and wondering why and how my friends and I - at ages 15, 16, 17 - were privy to the concept of impressing ‘Aunties’ at the mosque because they may one day be interested in making us their daughters-in-law. Was this a result of the restrictions and taboos placed around intermingling of sexes, a common concept among Muslim-Americans? Were we so starved of our natural desire to have innocent exchanges with our crushes - Stephen or Mark - that we became consumed by thoughts of the day it would finally be acceptable to openly swoon over a boy - the day our parents would arrange for us to be married to Omar or Khalil? What conditioned us to think this way?

I fear that some variation of these contemplations might often be the reality for many Muslim-American girls. This is a very painful thought for me to accept, especially when our parents immigrated to the land of the free as a result of the cultural stagnancy and religious intolerance they were forced to endure back home. It is unacceptable then that (to some degree) they are perpetuating those very limitations on their own daughters by way of marital expectations. It is not to say that I am encouraging denunciation of ones culture or religion upon resettlement to the ‘new world,’ however it is important to somewhat adapt to our surroundings and take advantage of the freedoms and opportunities allotted to us. For parents, happiness often comes from seeing joy and success greet their children. It is important to realize, however, that success and joy don’t necessarily need to be measured by a seemingly blissful marriage and 2.5 children. In fact, with the current statistics on the rate of divorce, we should think twice before equating marriage with happiness.

Divorce rates in the US are higher than ever before, and Muslim girls have a part in it. Because it was so stigmatized once upon a time (yet religiously allowed), Muslim women endured years of unfulfilling marriages and bore child after child, as they were expected. However, Muslim girls raised in the US are living in a different world than their parents, and are increasingly growing to learn that there is a future besides married with children and beyond a divorce - a truth it took me a very long time to acknowledge. It is when I realized that marriage was not the be-all end-all that I decided to reclaim my future. I did not have to assume the role of damsel in distress, victim, martyr - instead I could turn my sorrow into strengths.

Well over a year passed when I had the epiphany to start a nonprofit organization - a one-stop-shop for Muslims girls feeling pressured or forced into marriage, those suffering through troubled marriages, and others looking for resources or support to find an out. I envisioned providing a hot line service, counseling (individual, marital and family), resources for lawyers well-versed in Islamic law and Islamic law jurisprudents, scholarships for girls seeking a second chance, and creating a network of girls facing similar situations who could rely on each other for hope. I was incredibly passionate about the idea, but began to put it on the back burner as I contemplated the difficulty in creating success around such an unusual endeavor.

After my divorce, I returned home to DC and began working for Corporate America, unhappy with an overwhelming feeling of not meeting my potential. I didn’t see it as such then, but getting laid off was a blessing in disguise. I had been yearning to go back to school to acquire the necessary knowledge-base to work with women and girls in developing countries, and could finally make it reality. I completed my Masters at the School of Oriental and African Studies, and focused my thesis on Palestinian women pursuing a nonviolent approach to end the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Four months have gone by since I was awarded my degree with honors, and since then I have spent countless hours on tailoring my resume and creating numerous cover letters in efforts to land my ideal job. Stressed out and at a standstill on the job-front, I found myself revisiting the possibility of starting the nonprofit. It wasn’t until today, three and a half years since I first conceived the idea, that I was fueled with such fervor to realize its existence. Why had I discontinued my dreams of it to begin with? And what better way to gauge the response to it than by blogging my thoughts to determine its relevance and receipt.

So here we are. My intention is simple and three-fold: to create the safe space that I longed for as a Muslim-American girl when I was going through the process of marriage and divorce, to fulfill my passion to empower women and help them reach their dreams and full potential, and in the process realize my own. No longer should girls feel that their only destiny is to be someone’s wife. No longer should they have to face anxiety after a divorce, out of fear that peoples’ gazes of disgrace will pierce through them like a sword and diminish their existence. No longer should we be kept from finding the happiness within ourselves.

You may encounter many defeats,
But you must not be defeated.
In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats,
So you can know who you are,
What you can rise from,
How you can still come out of it.

-Maya Angelou

*Originally posted: http://symphoniedoux-amere.tumblr.com/post/4165501573/grabbing-the-world-by-the-lapels-and-reclaiming-our

“Women Hold up Half the Sky” Campaigns like The Girl...

Mon, 24 Oct 2011 16:44:54 -0400

“Women Hold up Half the Sky”

Campaigns like The Girl Effect and bestsellers like Half the Sky have taught us that one of the best ways to fight poverty, counter violence and progress society is to educate girls. When you educate a boy you invest in his future, but if you educate a girl you invest in an entire community. The potential that women have to make transformative changes in their families and communities is the very reason why TYO is committed to them.

The male dominated cultural tradition of TYO’s target areas has led to a lack of women in leadership positions socially, economically, and politically. TYO recognizes that women play can play an instrumental role in contributing to society if they are given the opportunity. That is why programs like FWEN & The Women’s Group, and integration of women into social and educational related programs that promote a culture of literacy are specifically targeted to women at TYO. Through our collaboration with the U.S. Consulate and the Middle East Partnership Initiative to foster a culture of reading in Nablus, it is apparent that women increasingly grasp the importance of education, of being involved in volunteering their time to teach children to read, and building their own capacity by partaking in workshops and trainings. The FWEN program is allowing for more women to become an active part of the labor force by utilizing their creative talents and business savvy. The Women’s Group is providing the know-how to make better decisions in health and lifestyle in order to meet their full potential. With the growing numbers of women finding their way to our center requesting to join the women’s programs, it is clear that they are taking steps to empower themselves, and consequently advancing their entire community.

This TED Talk, by co-author of Half the Sky – Sheryl WuDunn, stresses the full integration of women into society as being of utmost importance to ensure a better future for tomorrow’s youth.

http://www.tomorrowsyouth.org/2011/10/women-hold-up-half-the-sky/

MARRY - or ELSE

Wed, 28 Sep 2011 06:14:00 -0400

MARRY - or ELSE:

More than ever, my hunger to launch an equivalent to Karma Nirvana (a UK organization dedicated to helping victims of forced marriages, honor violence, etc) in the States leaves me feeling like a stagnant and weak, yet starving adversary.

“Forced weddings and ‘honor’ killings aren’t just a developing-world issue. New research shows how it happens in England and the United States.”

Racing the Planet

Sun, 11 Sep 2011 10:28:07 -0400

My brother, Usama, started running on January 18, 2010. Though he has always been fit, he took up running for the sake of a new hobby. He has always pushed the limits of mind and body. It is only natural then that he would not just begin running but then sign up for a 150+ mile week-long race through the Egyptian Sahara. I got an email from him a few weeks before he signed up for the race with a link and his comment, “I think I am going to do this.” My siblings and I were skeptical and concerned about how dangerous such an endeavor could be. We thought he was out of his mind. No one took his email very seriously until he registered and chose an organization to sponsor – TYO.

He started running 50 miles per week and increased to 80 miles a week this month. He will run 100 miles each of the four weeks before the race in October. He has also started training with a 25-pound backpack. He admits this added strain is slightly miserable, but necessary to prepare to carry his supplies during the race in the desert. Usama wakes up at 5 am to run for 2.5-3 hours on four weekdays and one day on the weekend. He describes this new schedule as follows: “the day becomes short very quickly. Three hours of training in the morning, getting back from work after 7 pm, eating dinner, working a bit, reading, and in bed by 10 or so to wake up bright and early for the same routine the next day.” His social life and and free time have decreased to almost nil, but the sacrifice has been worth it as he approaches this incredible feat.

The benefit of this effort goes beyond Usama’s physical resistance: He has raised almost $16,000 for TYO, just $4,000 short of his goal. Usama’s fundraising, combined with TYO’s $25k in 25 days campaign, is aiming to raise $45,000 for TYO!

My brother is an extremely disciplined person. “Focus, dedication, persistence, endurance and even pain” are all reasons he cites for having joined the race. “I think the benefits have been more cerebral for me, i.e. continuing to be awed at raw human capacity (with me being an average proxy for what any human is presumably capable of), and the sheer determination that we can apply to accomplish some pretty radical things.” And we both agree that there’s no better organization than TYO to represent this inspiring concept of using determination to achieve what many see as impossible.

Usama has been involved in causes related to Palestinian justice, dignity, opportunity and self-determination since the mid-90s. Over the last decade, he has made contributions to education, healthcare, and increasingly to women’s rights and participation. TYO’s work is a perfect match for Usama’s interests, making it an easy cause for him to promote. He has raised the money for the race entirely through his personal network of friends and family. He says, ”I think a combination of close and trusted relationships, the ‘extremeness’ of the event, and the critical importance of the cause has compelled people to participate and support.”

I am proud to call such a motivated man my brother. Though I worry about his safety, I will be rooting for him as his number one fan. I feel incredibly blessed to have been introduced to TYO by Usama and envision supporting the organization far beyond my summer 2011 internship, now as a current staff member and thereafter as a life-long advocate. I hope one day I am able to make as awe-inspiring a commitment and contribution to TYO as my brother has. Until then, I will do my best in Nablus to work at filling such big shoes.

Maliks for TYO, always!

Temporary Hiatus

Sun, 12 Jun 2011 16:04:23 -0400

Ahlan readers!

I should have mentioned a while ago, but here I am now to update you that I have been/will be on a temporary hiatus for the remainder of the summer, whilst working in Nablus, West Bank, Palestine with Tomorrow’s Youth Organization. However, instead of completely neglecting Tumblr I will post weekly blogs for TYO that I hope you’ll enjoy!

Happy reading :)

The women who violently perpetuate oppressive cultural practices

Sat, 21 May 2011 19:02:00 -0400

by: Priya Shetty for The Guardian, Wednesday 18 May 2011

Forced marriage and other abuses are not just about brutish men hell-bent on keeping women in their place.

For an estimated 8,000 women in the UK every year, their wedding isn’t the happiest day of their lives – quite the opposite. These women, usually from Indian and Pakistani families, are forced into marriages to ensure that the groom ticks the cultural, religious and socioeconomic boxes of the parents’ choosing. Those who dare to rebel might find themselves the victims of an “honour killing” (could there be a bigger misnomer for such a horrific crime?).

But the perpetrators of these crimes are not always stereotypically brutish men who are hell-bent on keeping women in their place. They might feature prominently in high-profile news stories about honour killings, but such stories rarely mention a deeply uncomfortable truth: a horrifying degree of oppression stems from other women, who help propel the grisly merry-go-round of cultural abuse.

Earlier this week, a cross-party group of MPs released a report calling forforced marriages to become illegal. Indeed, ensuring a zero-tolerance approach should help enormously. But to be truly successful, law-enforcers will need to understand the cultural complexities that underlie this oppression.

Jasvinder Sanghera, who ran away at 15 to avoid a forced marriage and later founded Karma Nirvana, a charity that helps women who are trying to escape such fates, says that in her case, her mother and other women in her family were the main instigators in trying to force her to marry. Such women-on-women oppression is far from rare. This week, two Muslim mothers in north India were arrested for killing their own daughters. The daughters’ crime? Marrying Hindu men. For this, the mothers were quoted as saying “they deserved to die”. A couple of months earlier, in Bangalore, a woman was arrested for killing her daughter and grandchild because the daughter had married outside her caste.

Women often perpetuate other deeply exploitative practices. In Africa, for instance, female circumcision is devastatingly commonplace, especially in countries like Egypt and Sudan. Ostensibly, it is intended to “purify” a girl for her future husband. In practice, the girls – who can be a young as a few months old – can die through haemorrhaging, or contract an infection. Despite having suffered the horrific procedure themselves, it is the women of the communities who force their daughters through this procedure to fit in line with cultural expectations.

So why would women choose to wreak such severe physical and psychological consequences on younger, more vulnerable versions of themselves? There may be some element of the abused becoming the abuser, but this seems too facile to explain generations of women oppressing, or being complicit in the oppression of, successive ones.

More likely, it is that the foundation on which these societies and cultures are constructed rely on women being entirely submissive to the needs of men. By whichever means women are diminished – being denied education, being forced to cover up from head to toe, or by being pushed at 12 or 13 into marriages to men three times their age — they are forced to be the weaker sex. Empower these women, many worry, and like a twisted game of giant Jenga, everything will collapse.

In countries where civil conflict and war is common, women also tend, by default, to be the protectors of culture – if for no other reason than they are more likely to be around when their men are injured or killed in conflict. In many developing nations, children are raised almost entirely by women, often collectively. Women, then, are the ones who pass down tradition through folk stories, and oversee how girls are dressed and behave. Perhaps this great need to ensure the continuity of tradition from one generation to another explains why they are willing to tyrannise their own sex.

Yet if women can sometimes be the oppressors, they are also the most likely to be the saviours. The existence of organisations such as Sanghera’s is vital, and Karma Nirvana is now trying to engage with schools to support the victims of forced marriages. Many teachers tend to ignore the problem, or feel utterly helpless, because they are reluctant to offend the parents. If the government also encouraged teachers to talk to children who they think might be victims of forced marriages, and challenge parents who pull their female children out of school early, it would be a great start towards concrete action. So would encouraging women’s education and empowerment in ethnic communities in the UK.

Where the French are decidedly more forthright about which cultural practices they will tolerate – several women have already been arrested for wearing a burqa after it was banned recently – in multicultural Britain, we tiptoe gingerly around controversial cultural practices for fear of stymying a plurality of expression or being tarnished as racists. But British society now needs to take a deep breath and engage with these issues head-on: ancient cultural practices can never trump human rights.

http://gu.com/p/2p6kx

... Marriage à-la-mode - The Finale

Tue, 10 May 2011 21:03:00 -0400

You are only a few weeks into your marriage before your father-in-law comes into town for an extended visit with you and your hubby. You throw him a lavish dinner party with some family members and a few close friends, trying your best to please him because you know it’ll (in-turn) please Ahmed. When the table is set and the food is served (relieved) you plop down on the couch and sigh a breath of relief – success! But you learn this is a sad overestimation when your mom phones into the party to gauge reviews, and your father-in-law gripes that the lentils are overcooked and the chicken karahi lacks salt [which he makes up for, no doubt]. Thank goodness he is only here for one more week, you think to yourself while fighting back a temper-tantrum.

As he prepares to fly back home (a couple of weeks later), you arrange for your family to have a short visit the weekend following - so they too may see the house you’ve made into a home. However, this doesn’t quite go as planned. The Friday of their arrival - when Ahmed returns home from work to find you on your hands and knees in the bathroom, scrubbing off a stubborn, jet-black stain - an explosive fight erupts. Apparently, cleaning in this stance should be beneath you, you never cleaned so thoroughly to prepare for his father’s visit and what was the meaning of adorning the apartment with all the new decorations? Not surprised by Ahmed’s need to hold your two families to a competition, you respond calmly by explaining to him that the reason you are on your knees cleaning is due to a hair-dye stain left by his daddy-dearest; aside from that you did nothing more than display the gifts your mother had given, so as to put a smile on her face. Your explanations are rendered unacceptable; he is fuming with rage, and you counter his unwarranted anger with an equally irrational response. “Fine. I will call them and let them know they aren’t welcome. Maybe I will just go to New York for the weekend to see my brother instead. I can’t do this.” He threatens you - do not dare leave, or else. In need of fresh air and some time alone to cool off, you grab your purse, throw on your flip-flops and walk off in the tired, raggedy state you are in.

As you walk through the neighborhood you call your brother and inform him that there’s been a situation, and advise that he and your mother postpone their visit. He tells you not to overreact, that he will arrive in an hour and things will have blown over by then. He’s right. What am I thinking? I should go back and make amends.But when you get back to the apartment the door is locked. Less than half an hour has passed and Ahmed has flown the scene of the crime, and left you locked outside. [He knows that he and his father are the only ones in possession of a key to the house. That’s right; you were never given a key, and every time you requested that a duplicate be made it was put off.] There’s no answer when you call him (several times) so eventually you decide to wait it out in the pizza shop nearby. When your brother arrives and drives you back to the apartment, Ahmed is still missing in action. You wait.

The sun sets an hour later and you still have no word from Ahmed. How embarrassing it is to sit in a car with your big brother while you await the husband that has taken off and left you stranded - the feeling is inexplicable. You’re also growing worried at this point - is he ok? You call his parents, sister, aunt and uncle to inquire if they have heard from him. No answer. You continue to wait. At half an hour to midnight your brother asks if you should check into a hotel, to which you quip back, “No, if this was my home I would have a key to get in. If these people were my family they would not be orchestrating this plot to ostracize me and teach me some twisted ‘lesson’. This is enough. I want to go home. To my family.” Feeling the discomfort in your voice and sympathizing with the humiliation this must be bringing you, he obliges. You sink into your seat, as the world is slowly crashing around you.

William Hogarth
Marriage A-la Mode: 6. The Lady’s Death
© The National Gallery, London

The ride home is disturbing and surreal. You are quietly weeping, angry, disheartened and scared all at once. What has happened? What have I done? Why is he doing this?Your thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of the phone; a call from his father. You are in no state to be having interactions with them at this point, so you ignore the call. He phones your brother next and approaches the conversation very casually - how are you, how is work, how is the visit with your sister? Your brother answers by explaining the events that unfolded over the past five hours, and that there was no choice for him but to take you home after everyone calculatingly shut you out. To this your father-in-law plays as if he’s in oblivion, and ends the conversation by sneeringly giving his blessings for your brother to take you home.

It takes Ahmed a week before he decides to come to you, only after you intently refuse to come back at his many requests. [He’s the one who left you stranded, now he should be the one to bring you back] You talk for hours before you decide that you both have issues to work on, individually and as a couple. You draft a list that you both agree to make a conscious effort to abide by moving forward. The next day you and Ahmed travel back “home”.

Before the passing of a full week, it all unfurls for the second and final time. You’ve barely been home a couple of days, and one morning you get a wakeup call from your mother-in-law. [Boy is it a wakeup call. And by the way, why is there no sensitivity to the fact that you two should probably be left in peace for some time after weathering such a storm, especially when the bulk of the issues were stemming from family politics?] The day only gets worse when you find the ‘Marriage To-Do’ list in the trashcan. When Ahmed gets home and you inquire, he responds bitingly, saying, “I didn’t agree with any of that to begin with. I only said I did to get you back here.” He had no intention to work on himself or the relationship, and his false promises were only a ploy. He grows nastier and more aggressive as you both argue, until the downward spiral hits rock bottom. This time your world crashes at the speed of light, and there is no turning back from this disaster; the damage is done.

The next morning you wake up to Ahmed scavenging through your jointly-kept files. At first you don’t realize what he’s searching for with such urgency, then when you get closer you see him sifting through the USCIS documents (for his Green Card case). You inform him that your mother and brothers are arriving that day to come fetch you and your belongings. Upon hearing this - just before he bolts out of the apartment - he nearly physically lashes out at you when you refuse to tell him where his Green Card is. When he gestures as if he’s about to hit you, you are somehow surprised by yet another new shade of his character; though you shouldn’t be at this point, as you’ve witnessed so many others coming out of the woodwork that there’s bound to be several more from where they came. You almost want him to strike you because at least then, those people who you fear will attempt to tarnish your reputation post-divorce will not be able to dispute a battered woman’s decision to leave. [In reality, those who want to talk will talk regardless.] You tell him if he returns the jewelry gifted to you by your mother, which he strategically locked into the safe-deposit-box at the bank (which you also did not receive a key for, even after several requests), then you can help him find the Card. No deal; he is not willing to yield. He’s gone.

It’s over. Luckily, your very supportive family shows up a few hours later to help you pick up the pieces of your crumbled-to-ash life. It seems the world has ended; your life is over before it even began. You are too broken to realize it then, but this too shall pass.

... Marriage à-la-mode - Scene 5 of 6

Thu, 21 Apr 2011 00:07:00 -0400

The day before the wedding, while all the women are having henna painted on their hands, your sister (who’s kindly assumed role of wedding planner) pulls aside your father-in-law-to-be to give him the schedule for the big day. She stresses the importance for Ahmed to be on time for the professional photographs that are to be taken prior to the evening’s festivities. To this his father responds very curtly, saying that they are the guests of honor on the wedding day and that they will try to get there as promptly as possible, but that it didn’t make sense to him. Though your sister wants to respect him as an elder and proceed with caution, so as not to rock the boat just before the wedding day, she feels it is necessary to hold her ground and see to it that your wedding day proceed without a glitch. Her persistence upsets him further and he airs a bout of self-importance before abruptly exiting the party. Before bed that night you speak to Ahmed about the schedule for the following day, thinking that if you personally request him to arrive at a certain time he will respect your hard work and wishes.

At 5pm the next day you sit in the bridal room with a freshly done do, immaculately made-up face and flooded in heavy golden jewelry over top of your gorgeous, traditional, red gown. You’re a vision, a sight for sore eyes, but not so much the blushing bride - not considering the current circumstances. You wait nervously with a blank stare on your face, looking over your shoulder at the clock every few seconds. Ahmed was suppose to have arrived at 4:30, is not answering his phone and has yet to show up at a couple of minutes past 5. He knew how important this was to you and promised you that even if his family wasn’t ready, that he would still be there exactly when you had asked. Your sister brings you a salad and begs you to put something in your empty stomach, and get your mind off of being behind on schedule. Finally, at 6 he returns your several missed calls, by which point your blood pressure has shot through the roof and your heart’s beating uncontrollably. Listening to him make one excuse after another, you refuse to ruin your make-up with tears, and shoot the phone across the room instead. He eventually shows up with his family a quarter after seven, 15 minutes later than the time that was given to guests. By then there is no time to argue over the details because you must make your grand entrance. As you walk into the reception hall, your hand in Ahmed’s, you think: What the hell is going on? Get me out of here!

William Hogarth
Marriage A-la Mode: 5. The Bagnio
© The National Gallery, London

Scene 5: The Bagnio

It’s too late. The opportunity for an out has passed. [Had it really?] You are a married woman now, and your only hope will be to win your husband over enough to gain even the slightest bit of loyalty from him, in effort to avoid being eaten alive by your in-laws. With the passing of each day, what one would think should be daily nuances between a husband and wife become extended discussions with your in-laws. No other opinions matters much besides those of your husbands’ parents, as they know best (in his mind). Lord have mercy the times the opinions are regarding you because you stand no chance to be defended against accusations made by them. Before almost every household associated purchase Ahmed phones them for the green light, every time he runs out for something his mother or sister call you with the knowledge of exactly where he has gone and why, and the morning of each of his interviews his mother phones you to make sure you’ve woken up and that you see to it that he has a hearty breakfast. The codependency is like nothing you’ve ever witnessed before. You knew he was close to his family, but never had you anticipated the attachment to be at such an unhealthy level. The thought of escaping the restrictions imposed on you by your parents use to once excite you, before you realized you’d be inheriting a new, more unbearable set. Now, not only are you wife to a 30 year-old man who is seemingly incapable of being self-sufficient and unable to function without his parents, but you are also expected to accept your fate as a ‘Stepford wife’ in silence - as nothing more than the new, family hot rod that all are free to take for a ride at their disposal.

At first, you are so shocked that things have taken a complete 180 in the unbelievable way that they have that you assume the defeatist role all too quickly. You exhibit moments of hope when he shows you tenderness and sincerity, but destroys them each time he follows up with an unnecessary/inappropriate exchange with his parents. It is only so long before your patience wears thin and you uncover the truth; the reason for his change in heart for you, which has gone from day to night within just a couple of months.

Up next, Scene 6: The Lady’s Death…

... Marriage à-la-mode (recontinued)

Wed, 20 Apr 2011 18:42:00 -0400

As the wedding day nears you feel an overwhelming sense of panic and frenzy. It’s written off as harmless, pre-wedding jitters because questioning things at this stage would mean suffering a great loss financially, emotionally and socially. There’s just a week left before you become Mrs. Ahmed, and now is the time to buckle down.

You’ve spent the past few days getting full body ubtan (traditional, organic skin treatment) scrubs from your mom to leave your skin with a flawless glow, coconut oil head massages from your aunt to give your hair a silky shine, and pep talks preparing you for marriage from nearly everyone to keep you from having a meltdown. The day prior to the first function (of four), Ahmed and his family come over for a relaxing evening to regroup before the commotion that is to follow. Your house if full of cousins, aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces that have all traveled long distances for your big day. In the kitchen your Khalas (maternal aunts) make fresh samosas and chai to serve the guests. Your brothers are upstairs decorating the banisters with colorful, beautifully embellished dubattas (scarves) and Christmas lights. And in the family room you, your sisters and cousins are gathered around the dholki (traditional drum)singing festive songs about love and marriage; your mother and father chiming in for solos every once in a while. Everything is lovely, quite possibly even perfect, until the doorbell rings. They’ve arrived. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

William Hogarth
Marriage A-la Mode: 4. The Toilette
© The National Gallery, London

Scene 4: The Toilette

Your mother and aunts rush to the door to greet your husband and in-laws-to-be, with all your cousins excitedly trailing behind. You follow your sisters into the kitchen to help arrange the tea and hors d’œuvres, but in actuality you’re avoiding the exchange with Ahmed’s family, which is nerve-racking even after having known them a year now. As they make their way into the family room and spot you in the kitchen, you smile bright and hurriedly make your way over to enthusiastically give Ahmed’s mother what is meant to be a sincere embrace, then his sister, sister-in-law, father and so on. Finally, your eyes meet Ahmed’s - you look at him with a modest gaze, most innocent smile and quickly look away before anyone can notice. Despite the fact that you will be officially married to this man in less than 48 hours, you are expected to keep up the facade of being dainty and demure around him and his family. You are growing tired of the obligation to keep up appearances and long for the point its novelty will wear off, not knowing that it will be a duty you’ll never be exempt from.

Every interaction seems superficial, every gift and gesture given purely out of expectation and lacking any iota of sincerity. You’ve been getting an artificial feeling more and more as time has gone by, but for some reason it hits you harder than ever in this moment. You suddenly have the urge to run upstairs and cry, but tell yourself to pull it together and refrain from behaving like some dramatic actress (a challenge when your life itself has transformed into somewhat of a twisted Bollywood film). The harder you try the more tears that well up in your eyes. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling, stand up and excuse yourself to the bathroom before you start a scene. You walk up the stairs calmly and into your mother’s bedroom; your brother, who had been noticing your uneasiness, follows. The instant you hear him close the door behind you, you come undone.

It hits you like a ton of bricks; you are marrying into a family that has done a thorough job of appearing to be all that you can hope for, but in reality their nature is manipulative. You brother hears you out as your try to put things into perspective, explaining, no matter how accommodating you all have been it’s never been enough for your in-laws. Their superiority complex was causing you to develop one of inferiority. Somehow they always managed to become involved in your personal conversations with Ahmed - from where and when to honeymoon, to which apartment to settle on, to choosing your bedroom furniture - it was all funneled through them. At times, your mother received calls from your in-laws, grumbling that you’re asking too much of Ahmed and that she should have a chat with you to make sure you’re not adding pressure. Then, there were the various demands of your parents the week they arrived into town for the wedding - for freshly catered food to be delivered to their hotel rooms for each meal of the day, requesting supplies and help with the duties they were meant to see to, stressing the importance of hiring a limo for them to be chauffeured to and from each of the functions, etc. Though they may sound like minor details, they are all adding up at once and seem intensified in this instance. Your brother is consoling you, but nothing will bring your mind at ease as you’ve reached a state of hysteria.

Though it hadn’t been your intent to create a scene, it’s a little odd that more than 15 minutes have passed and you can still hear the silly banter and laughs amongst everyone downstairs, completely unaffected by the absence of the bride-to-be. You find some reassurance when Ahmed finally knocks at the door, but even he’s unable to help you fully regain composure. He is concerned and offers to postpone the wedding for you, which allows you to believe he can care for someone besides his parents. The offer upsets you - Initially, he could hardly wait to be married to me and now he’s willing to postpone the wedding indefinitely?! - Yet offers a degree of relief. In another world - as a stronger woman, of a different ethnicity and religion, measured against fewer expectations and from a more forgiving culture - maybe you would’ve taken it. For now, it must be enough that he offered. You sit silently for a while, both of you a little shaken and confused, until your brother walks in and interrupts to say that Ahmed’s family is retiring to their hotel for the night. Face swollen like an inflated balloon and eyes blood-shot red to match your smeared lipstick, you ask Ahmed to apologize to his family on your behalf, but you cannot bear to go downstairs and be seen this way. He comforts you and urges you not to worry, that everything will be easy-breezy once you two are together. “I am going to take care of you,” he says convincingly. Hearing those words is enough to dispel your doubts, but only for a few days until he makes it clear that even he is simply keeping up appearances.

Coming very soon: Scene 5: The Bagnio…

... Marriage à-la-mode (continued)

Tue, 12 Apr 2011 20:30:00 -0400

Time seems to move in slow motion when you two are left alone. Then suddenly, the creeks from your parents’ footsteps making their way through the foyer wake you both from the hypnosis. Your mothers’ arms are linked, so comfortably like two long-lost friends who’ve picked up right where they left off, and the four of them laugh gleefully at some silly joke your father must’ve told. The instant chemistry, not only between you and your (now) beau, but also the families is undeniable. You think: Whatever happened in that room, it must’ve been damn good. I mean, just look at this. Can things be going any better?! You give yourself an internal nudge, as you don’t want your thoughts running away with you. Contain yourself before you jinx something! Just then, his mother approaches you and smothers you with a warm embrace, tears up and gives her son an approving kiss on the forehead. Have I won them over?, you think. [Though why should this matter? Shouldn’t they be the ones working up a sweat to win your approval? Apparently not because it seems Mr. Beau had you at “Hello.”] She reaches for the beautifully adorned, gold bracelet on her wrist and slides it off. You know what is coming next and nearly have an anxiety attack between the few seconds she’s reaching for your hand to when she slides the bracelet onto your arm with gentle ease. The bracelet is a representation of what she is giving of herself to you, her son. Your fate is pre-sealed with this bracelet, until the official engagement, so as to ward off the gazes of any other interested suitors. You are now her daughter-in-law to be.

With ear-to-ear smiles plastered on everyone’s faces, eager embraces are exchanged all around - exactly like you’d seen in the sappy chick-flicks. All is peachy keen and seems to be heading in the direction of happily ever after, but what is to unravel in the coming months is completely unforeseen; an ulcer inducing Indian TV drama, when all you’d been imagining since the moment you met your beau was to relive something resembling the final scene of “Sex and the City, The Movie.” However, in their minds you’d been auctioned, my dear. A red dot (or bindi, in Indian culture, signifying a married woman) was placed on the middle of your forehead for claim, and they stood as the highest bidding suitor.

William Hogarth
Marriage A-la Mode: 3. The Inspection
© The National Gallery, London

Scene 3: The Inspection

Days turn to weeks, and weeks to months. Mr. Beau sends you flowers and parcels in the mail, and surprises you at your door for visits a couple of times as well. You manage to pick “your song” within these sporadic rendezvous, decide on a destination for your honeymoon, and even start discussing your favorite baby names. At one point he and his mother tell you how badly they wish you could be with them at once - one big happy family - and how they hate the thought of having to wait until summer (when you finish your undergraduate degree) for the wedding. It’s heartwarming how much they’re in love with you. [Note, I say “they” and not just “he” because love and approval from in-laws can be just as vital as that of your beau, if not more.] They nearly manage to convince you to have the wedding over winter break, but something in you urges you to resist and you stand firm on your decision to wait until summer. You and Mr. Beau are living in your own world; attention to your friends and family dwindles, your phone practically seems surgically sewn onto your ear, and you Skype to bed. But the sweet dreaming slowly turns into ugly nightmares, as realities begin to reveal themselves.

Early on in the courtship your mother started receiving concerned calls from close friends and family. “We hear they aren’t very observant in religion.” “Are you sure your family backgrounds are in line enough not to clash? They seem overly modern for your liking.” [What are we? uptight, backwards villagers?] ”We hear he has been engaged.” And that one’s the real killer, especially when it is confirmed and reconfirmed by two reliable sources. Your mother brushes it under the rug and justifies it as being the wrong person at the wrong time; it can happen to the best of us. You, however, can’t seem to shake it. But really, it won’t matter what he tells you - good or bad (though it is highly unlikely that he accepts the blame for the dissolution of the previous engagement) - because you are so far up in the clouds that even the oddest/most upsetting/disconcerting things he does or says will go unnoticed for the time being. By now you’ve spent months picking out flower arrangements, your weddings gowns and the venues. You’ve the most perfect ring on your finger, your relationship with you mother is the best it’s ever been in your life, all focus is on you and you won’t let anything or anyone take it away from you. Besides, it’s not a big deal because the little fights and inconveniences are only temporary and due to being in a long distance engagement or something, right? [Wrong.] Once you two are finally together he will have no reason to be overbearing or protective, defensive, insecure and controlling. And the only reason he is so quick to act on his parents’ every word right now is because he is a good, loving son, who is taking care of them in their old age. Imagine how good he’ll be to you if he treats his mother that way. Right. [Wrong again!]

The inspection period, which funnily enough comes after already being engaged, is not much of one at all. All red flags will only appear - bold, capitalized and highlighted - in hindsight, once it’s already too late.

Stay tuned for Scene 4: The Toilette…

Marriage à-la-mode

Thu, 07 Apr 2011 15:35:00 -0400

Traditionally, arranged marriage was common custom amongst aristocratic, wealthy families, who were interested in sealing the fate of their child with a “suitable” member from an equally prestigious and “worthy” family lineage. Over the course of the centuries, from its early inception to now, it has evolved into a method for many South Asian and Middle Eastern families to curtail the courtship process (mostly for their daughters). Why allow our daughters to forge relationships with males that could potentially lead to premarital relations, and run the risk of a destroyed reputation (for the girls and their families)? Furthermore, why even entertain the thought when there’s the well-established channel of arranged marriage? It worked for us, our parents, our siblings - if it ain’t broke don’t fix it - is the common justification of pro-arranged marriage parents. I am sure, like my very supportive parents/family, many of them now wish they had bit their tongues and contemplated the idea more carefully before so eagerly welcoming it with open arms. What did the hastiness lead to but countless broken marriages, thousands of girls bearing the brunt of the consequences, and twice as many parents blaming themselves for the unfortunate turn of events leading to their daughters’ divorces. And thus, what was once intended to be a practice of continued noble breeding eventually began to earn the reputation of outdated tradition, as in recent years it has become evident that the practice of arranged marriage is not always so practical after all.

Scene 1: The Marriage Settlement

Modern day arranged marriages are a bit deceiving; they appear to be left up to the final judgment of the girls completely - on their terms, their timeline, and according to their standards and preferences - yet in actuality the pressure of parents and novelty of the bride-to-be feeling overcasts the decision-making process through and through. It all starts out very exciting, and most of us can’t help but get that very giddy feeling inside. Your mother approaches you about this Aunty’s son catching your eye at the wedding last Saturday, that Aunty calling to inquire about you for her nephew, another Aunty sending pictures and full bio-data on her son for your review, etc. It’s all so flattering, isn’t it? The overflow of interest can be inundating to the extent that you run the risk of developing a self-assured, god-like complex - nose to the air, laying on a French antique settee, fanning yourself as you turn away one suitor after another.

Just when you think you’re too good for any of the fellows, who need their mothers to set them up with someone because they lack the charm and confidence to woo a woman themselves, you spot that one in the bunch that sort of makes your knees a little weak (well as weak as they can get at the sight of a picture). He’s a bit older - but that attracts you, incredibly dashing, well traveled, has graduated from university, is looking to buy a business and settle down, and your mother is even good friends with his Aunt. It’s hard to contain the anxiety, especially with your mother’s persistence on the matter, so you finally agree to let her send a picture and bio of you in return. Even more eager than you, he requests to exchange emails straight away so you two can be on your way to find matrimonial bliss. Somehow the confidence you once possessed when shooing away multiple suitors disappears, and now you think: Wow, it hasn’t been but a day and already he’s certain that he wants to pursue me, potentially start a future with me. Me, of all the girls he could have chosen from.What happens here and why? Does the idea of sharing our lives with a man shatter the belief in ourselves?

Scene 2: The Tête à Tête

Some months pass, he doesn’t skip a day to email you, and eventually starts calling twice even thrice a day; the perfect gentleman. His parents request for both families to finally meet and decide whether a next step is ready to be taken. The night before their arrival you make sure the house is in immaculate condition, try on several outfits before deciding on the perfect one, and prim yourself to your finest for the man you’ve never met, but that has been giving you butterflies for the past few months. The day of, prior to the guests’ arrival, everything seems in place, everything feels “right”. Who’d’ve ever thunk it - that you could actually meet your prince charming (a topic on its own, to be discussed in future post) through an arranged settlement? The family travels from states away to visit you at your home, and in he walks with a bouquet of your favorite flowers (he remembers you mentioned white lilies in one of your early emails) and a souvenir from a business trip he just made to Dubai - well played Mr. Ahmed, well played. He’s even more handsome in person, possibly too good for you, you tell yourself. Nervous and barely able to keep your balance, adrenaline surging through your body, you can’t seem to make your way from the kitchen to the living room with the tray of tea you so meticulously arranged. When you finally make your way over unstained, the coy exchanges each time your eyes meet his give you a premature feeling of “this is it, he must be the one”. So after a couple of hours, when you seem comfortable enough to sit with him and have a conversation alone, your parents retreat to the other room to privately discuss if and when your fates will be sealed. With your head in the clouds, unaware of much else occurring around you, you feel secure that the life-changing decisions being made in the next room (by supposedly experienced adults) will be the right ones. And anyway, you are too smitten to separate your emotions and logic/reason from that moment forward.

Stay tuned for Scene 3: The Inspection…

Don't Eat that Marshmallow Because if You Wait You're Gonna Get Two of Them

Sun, 03 Apr 2011 15:05:42 -0400

No matter how much time passes and how much we think we’ve grown and learned, sometimes it only takes one flashback from our past or a single inhibition in the present to set us back months, evens years. However, if we navigate through our thoughts in a strategic, calculated manner, we can potentially avoid setback. The data we collect from the world, our experiences, and our past can be interpreted with objectivity in order to gain insight, or it can be subconsciously discounted to project our own interpretations. Herein lies the secret of time; if our interpretations of the past are negative, we forget to focus on the joys that surrounds us in the moment, and maintain that life won’t actually begin until after death - then such a bias time perspective is bound to leave us in a state of insecurity, stagnancy and a generally pessimistic disposition.

In this TED Talk Philip Zimbardo points out the importance in orienting our brains to be “future focused.” He presents an experiment conducted by Walter Mischel, in which he gathered a group of four year olds and placed a marshmallow before each of them. The children were told that they could have one marshmallow now, or if they waited for the experimenter to come back they could have two. When these students were revisited years later, Mischel found that those who resisted temptation scored 250 points higher on their SATs, didn’t get into as much trouble, and were more confident and determined. Their future focused attitudes were rewarded with success. We too can be met with success if we alter our interpretation of situations, experiences and memories to reflect progression. If we repeatedly assume a pattern in which we get consumed by the voices in our head, and fail to rise above and keep moving forward - then we don’t stand a chance at turning our sorrows into strengths.

We must forge a balance in our time paradox, allowing one time zone to take precedence while others temporarily recede (on a circumstantial basis). Don’t focus on the negativity of the past or hesitate in the present. Instead, optimize your time perspective by allowing the positives in your past (family, friends, identity) to ground you; by realizing your current blessings and allowing the happiness that comes from them to fuel you to explore people, places and yourself; by setting goals and allowing the possibilities of the future to give you the confidence to challenge yourself and reach new heights.

Reflection can be good if we use it as a tool improve, not idly fixate. Give yourself constant reminders and take active steps to become a better you. Life takes time, be patient, yet aggressive. Avoid taking shortcuts to heal because although something may provide you with instant gratification, the happiness will be fleeting. So don’t eat that marshmallow because if you wait you may just find an infinite supply once you find your wings and fly onto your dreams.

Age is Not Just a Number

Wed, 30 Mar 2011 21:45:00 -0400

Which decision do you think it would be more difficult to reason through at the tender age of 18 - should I try smoking that blunt with my friends? Or should I stay married to this man in order to maintain semblance of a happy marriage? And which might yield considerable, more devastating consequences if the wrong decision were made? Based on my experiences and observations, making “wife decisions” at such a young age is exponentially more overwhelming than decisions that need to be made as single girl in her budding youth. I understand that age does not determine ones level of emotional maturity or intelligence, however, being younger does mean having less years of experience to have built character and confidence, to have gained some enlightened perspectives on life. With age comes wisdom and power, which in turn help us to make better choices. Age is not just a number.

A few days ago, I had dinner with an old friend from high school. We reminisced about the past, discussed our daily grinds and exchanged stories about our families. When it was his turn he dropped a huge bomb. Only a couple of days had passed since I started revisiting the idea to create a nonprofit for Muslim-American divorcees, and now I sat across from him in disbelief as he told me about the man his baby sister was getting engaged to. Barely able to comprehend the words coming from his mouth, with a million anxious thoughts zooming through my head, I was left speechless… But only for a moment, until I peeled the bottom of my jaw off of the germ-infested restaurant table, and regained clearheadedness.

Me: What are your parents thinking?! She is ONLY 18. Don’t you have a say in this?

Friend: Of course, full say. I’m the eldest.

Me: OK, what the *expletive* are YOU thinking then? Do I have to remind you of my horror story with the guy, the Green Card, and the stereotypical-Bollywood film in-laws? I was 3 years her senior when it happened to me, yet I’ve always said that in hindsight I realize I was being thrown into something that even someone well beyond my years would have had trouble handling. Granted her trials with marriage will most likely (God willing) be far different from mine and more manageable, but regardless the tribulations exist in every marriage. Is she ready to carry all of that weight?

Friend: She’s really mature, far past her years. She’s already finishing up the last year of her bachelors degree. They have been talking for a while, she really likes him. She wants to get married.

I thought: Another poor, young, impressionable girl bites the dust, falling for the “marriage is the be-all end all” propaganda (discussed in my previous post).

Me: Far past her years? If she’s 18, how far past can she be - 22, 23? I am 25 now, and I still can’t imagine knowing how to navigate through a marriage without wanting to curl into the fetal position in my bed, draw the covers over my head with the door locked (husband on the other side), and cry out for mommy!
If she’s so smart wouldn’t you want her to focus on maximizing her potential academically and professionally, rather than learning how to cook chicken tikka masala this year and popping babies by the next? And she ‘talks’ to him? Does that mean she hasn’t even met him? *Friend*!
How much can she possibly know about marriage anyway? Anyone who knows enough about marriage runs in the opposite direction of it. Ok sorry - low blow - marriage can be a beautiful union amongst two people who compliment each other. My objection is, that at age 18 does she know the upheavals she’ll have to face as a wife and eventually a mother? Or does her desire to be married simply stem from the happiness she saw between your parents, or in the closing scenes of those happily-ever-after Rom-Coms? This is ludicrous!

Friend: Haha, calm down. She will be fine, I assure you. I’ve felt the guy out, he’s a great guy. Our families have been friends for generations. Besides, I need to get her out of this poisonous environment. I don’t want her falling into the pressures surrounding her - the sleazy clubbing scene, drugs, this drinking business [as he sips on his alcoholic beverage, but who’s judging].

Me: So ultimately your logic to get her married is based solely on your fear that she’ll fall under some stupid societal pressures? You sound like my mother! How about having a sit-down with her instead to chat about your expectations of her moving forward, what is and isn’t okay when she’s with her friends, setting a curfew, implementing rewards/consequences? Please just seriously think about what I’m saying before you push her over the broom. That’s all I ask.

How that story ends is to be continued, but I hope however it turns out is for the best. Setting aside the debate on arranged marriage (we’ll tackle that topic in another post), my thought right now is, why is marriage a band-aid solution to keep our young, Muslim girls from crossing religious/cultural boundaries? If we are trying to shield them from a potentially “destructive” path - living the single life, experimenting, learning through mistakes and experiences - then we should reconsider marriage at such a young age as being a quick fix because that isn’t exactly a walk in the park either. Why not make an actual attempt to parent them through the vital years of self-discovery instead of marrying them off so young that they aren’t even legally considered responsible enough to drink or rent a car? I believe girls need their parents/family/village as a crutch the most when going through the growing pains of teenager to adult. How can they be expected to get married and start a family of their own at that point in their lives? It is crucial then that we support them through that stage, but not by way of dictating their plans, nor by “influencing” them in a certain direction just because we think it’ll save us from potential disappointment or embarrassment in their mistakes. Let them be young, give them time to learn and enough freedom to grow into their own beings.

Discussions of marriage can wait until they are sparked by girls organically. In the meantime, it is critical to encourage them to seek great educations and ingrain the concepts of self-fulfillment and advancement in them - especially during the most opportune years for them to be flourishing (late-teens to young-adulthood). If marriage and children is what they seek after all is said and done and they’ve established their position in the world, then they will make it happen. By then, at least they’d have had some time and space to find the strong, confident women within themselves, who’d be better equipped to make such monumental decisions. So remember that age is not just a number. Age is what separates girls from women.

Grabbing the World by the Lapels and Reclaiming our Future

Mon, 28 Mar 2011 16:15:00 -0400

You may encounter many defeats,

But you must not be defeated.

In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats,

So you can know who you are,

What you can rise from,

How you can still come out of it.

-Maya Angelou