Here is something I have just been thinking about and need to release. It causes great angst and what better way to release angst than with the best therapeutic method out there? Of course, I mean blogging.
A common conversation between Arab women upon their first meeting is: family, food and you guessed it, marriage. It is also a common conversation (or more so a hassle) between family in the village and I. As most of you know, I’m an Arab teenager/practically an adult born and raised in the US (..oh one of those girls) and currently living in Lebanon. “Why did you move to Lebanon?” you ask? Well that’s a whole other blog.
To save you the life story (and boy, am I doing you a favor!), I basically walk the streets of Southern Lebanon strutting around with my independent-American-woman attitude. I’ve got dreams, aspirations, a future I can’t wait to live…but oh deary me, please someone stop me from having these feelings for I can hear every woman in my village having a heart attack. If I fulfill all of these goals, or maybe even just one, I might develop an Arab man’s worst nightmare…an opinion. And the last thing you want is a woman with an opinion in something other than cooking and politics. What should be my greatest fear is that I may become unsuitable for marriage. Women are only capable of having one of the two things: marriage or an education. Though, under some circumstances, you can actually have both. But please focus on the keyword “some”.
Here are said circumstances. You see, a lot of women here use school and getting an “education” as a time filler, if you will. Or, before facebook, a ground for looking for potential husbands. Where I come from, if you are still in high school your excuse (proclaimed by others) is usually you being a) ugly b) fat or my favorite c) lesbian. Don’t get me started on university girls. They are doomed eternally. There is no hope for them. They will become spinsters in their cheetah print, prowling on any UN soldier that comes across their path. These women will die in shame, nonetheless. Oh, the profanity.
Okay sure, perhaps I am being stereotypical and melodramatic. Maybe I am generalizing too or not being specific enough. But it appears that the fate of every Arab girl is indeed marriage. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not a terrible fate…but why is it the only fate? And if I decide to slip away from that fate, then why does that ultimately make me unsuitable for marriage?
Or should I just start buying my cheetah print?