TABOO

The Start of a conversation

A month or so ago, Pandora’s Box exploded across social media in Egypt, catapulting a very interdict subject in the region, into the spot light, causing a Tsunami of shock waves through our ‘conservative’ society that pleads ignorance, but in fact, are masters at turning a blind eye or burying their heads in the sand to avoid it all together. The sexual harassment case of an accused serial harasser, blackmail and rapist sent a surge of shock and disbelief across the nation and ignited a conversation about a very taboo subject, Sexual Harassment. It opened a flood gate. Girls and women of all ages have been breaking their silence about uncomfortable, humiliating, degrading, embarrassing and traumatic firsthand accounts that have happened to them on a daily basis in anonymous testimonies of what occurs on a daily basis when they leave their homes to go about their day. This subject has forced people to see how stressful it can be to be a woman in the region. Something as simple as just leaving the house, can be very stressful. It has also shattered many misconceptions and made many feel uncomfortable with the naked truth of what goes on in broad daylight right in front of their noses. It has enlightened what really goes on in the streets and in some instances, in homes behind closed doors.

What has been most shocking in the past few weeks is the lack of understanding in what ‘Sexual Harassment” actually is and how men AND women, blame the victims for being in the situation. Many were under the illusion that harassment came only in the form of physical assault. When in reality it has many degrees and levels. Each of which are very traumatic for the person being harassed. So, let’s clear something up…

WHAT IS HARASSMENT?

Harassment comes in many forms, it can be how someone looks at another individual in an unwanted suggestive sexual leering way, making them feel very uncomfortable and fear for their safety. The look in the harassers eyes are intense, making clear what’s running through their mind in their targeted stare. A second example can be in comments, otherwise known as ‘Cat Calling”, The person who is calling out, might think they are paying a compliment, flirtatious or even funny, but in reality are, insulting,degrading, belittling, humiliating and/or of a sexual nature. Another form is being followed by a person(s) without giving any hint of interest or consent. A person sending indecent photos and texts is another form of harassment. Requesting sexual favors and pressuring someone to do it and trying to blackmail them into carrying out any act by using fear, is harassment. Sexual Assault is unwanted touching of ANY kind, here are a few examples; When a person is minding their own business, keeping to themselves and suddenly they’re being grabbed, groped, touched inappropriately without consent, that is considered a physical sexual assault. The assault everyone seems to know is rape. It’s THE absolute worst kind, the most violating and traumatic. Rape is when someone has unconsented sex with another individual by force in a conscious or an unconscious state.

These are just some of the many forms of types of harassment and assaults. If you would like to know of more you can click on the link here.

An ignorant misconception that this case has dissolved is that it ONLY happens in lower economic classes and carried out by uneducated people. When in reality, a harasser can be anyone from any level of the social pyramid. It isn’t class or economic orientated, it’s everywhere. A harasser doesn’t look like a boogie man or the ‘evil’ character you read about in stories. They look like the average person and it could be someone you know well, a ‘respected’ member of the community or a stranger. A harasser can be male or female.

The third myth that is being exposed is that, “Women are at fault and that they are the ones who trigger the harassment or assaults.” As Bassem Youssef, an Egyptian Satire Comedian stated in one of his Instagram account, “The ONLY reason there’s harassment, is because of the harasser”. Omar Samra an Egyptian Mountaineer also made clear in a post to his Instagram account, that ‘harassment isn’t an illness and to stop using it as an excuse’. Woman, are NOT the cause of harassment. Some may argue that women’s garments are the trigger behind a harasser’s impulsive behavior and mal intent and just can’t control themselves! Excuse my language but that is a truck load of B.S! If that was the case, then why do veiled and fully covered, Munukkaba women get harassed just as much as non-veiled women? Why can men control themselves more when they are abroad? It’s because here, they know they can get away with it because “They Are Men and Have Needs.”

A fourth myth that is being killed, is that women want it and that we invite it to happen. Who in their right mind would? That is INSANE!! How anyone can justify or believe such a blatant lie is beyond my comprehension! We are not sexual objects, and whose only purpose is to procreate. Women are living beings, we have souls, we are intelligent, we have feelings and we are STRONG.

More times than I care to remember or recall, I have experienced both sexual harassment and assault. My family and I lived in a neighboring country in the Middle East and we respected the dress code when we left the compound.My earliest memory was when I was about 10 years old. My family and I were at the mall and I was holding my father’s hand, while my mum and sister were looking at a display in a shop window. I was aimlessly staring at the ground when I noticed a pair of feet walking towards me. I could see that they were coming straight for me, so I moved out of the way and stood behind my father to avoid the person as they passed their hand brushed against me. Once they passed, I went back to standing next to my dad. The individual did a U-turn and came back round for a second attempt. I looked up and saw him staring at me with intent focus, with a wild look in his eye, like you’d see in a lion intent on catching its prey. He came towards me again and again I moved, but he anticipated my action and came closer, and put his hands between my thighs aiming for my crutch. My mind and emotions couldn’t process or comprehend what had just happened.

TELL ME I ASKED FOR IT!

Fortunately for me, my parents had instilled in my sibling and I that our bodies were ours and no one had the right to touch us and that if anything of the sort was to happen, we should tell them. I did tell them and as shocked as they were, that someone would have the audacity to attempt an act like that on a child in public and while standing next to their father, they believed me. Unfortunately the country we were in, protected their nationals more than expats, so there was nothing we could do, in terms of reporting the man. I did ask my dad to buy me an Abaaya (a long black cloak that many women in the Middle East wear). My dad refused at first, because he said it wasn’t who we were, that it wasn’t our culture, but he saw how distressed I was about the incident and wanted me to feel safer and secure when we left the compound we lived on. He gave in and bought me one. To me it felt like a protective invisibility cloak that would ward off unwanted attention and harassment. I never left the compound without it. I still have it to this day.

A couple of years later the Gulf War caused us to uproot and we moved to Alexandria, Egypt (my father’s home country and city). One late afternoon my younger sister and I were returning from the shops and I was talking to her about something. When I turned to look at her and she was gone! I looked around and found some older kid in his late teens, or early twenties sat on a large block, had grabbed her by her wrist and was trying to ‘talk’ to her. My sister was wiggling and trying to pull away from him and he wouldn’t release her. I went over to him and yelled at the top of my lungs all the insults that I was not ever to utter in the presence of family members. This drew the attention of many people and he was forced to let go and we legged it home and told my parents.

TELL ME SHE ASKED FOR IT!

My mother is a foreigner married to an Egyptian man and dresses modestly, with blond hair and blue eyes she can’t help but be a beacon for unwanted attention in this part of the world. My mum taught at the school my sister and I attended, we were walking home from school, it was very close to where we lived, when out of the blue a car pulled up next to the sidewalk we were walking on, opened the rear passenger door and told her to get in for 1LE. My sister and I were shocked and didn’t fully understand the proposition. She instructed us to keep walking.

TELL ME SHE ASKED FOR IT!

I was in my teens and I went on an errand to buy something from a store. I took a short cut down a side street that lead from the Greco Roman Museum, to Cinema Metro. I was wearing a long sleeve baggy polo shirt, and loose fitting jeans. I walked by a store that sold car parts and one of the men, came out and was looking at me in a very uncomfortable manner, but he proceeded to describe what sexual things he would like to do to me.

TELL ME I WANTED IT!

In that moment I remember clearly thinking, do I keep walking by and let him get away with insulting me, because he thinks I’m a foreigner and I don’t understand or do I turn and shock him by answering him back in his mother tongue so he knows that it’s not ok? I chose to turn around, that act alone, shocked him. In Arabic I responded, ‘You should be more respectful. If someone spoke to your mother, sister or daughter that way, would you allow and accept it?” His gaze fell to the ground and he said, ‘you’re right’. A small victory. I didn’t feel the need to tell my dad, because I felt I had dealt with the situation. Karma had other plans, the following day, my father asked if I’d like to accompany him on a few errands. I did and to my surprise he pulled up in front of the store, I had passed by the day before. The same man, I told off, saw me sat in the passenger side of the car and my father stepped out of the car, and began talking to him. The man turned a lighter shade of pale and you could see his heart plummet to the ground in shock. He apparently knew my father quite well.

Alexandrian winters are rainy and cold, so one has to bundle up in order to keep warm. In winter everyone looks as sexy as a polar bear (no intended insult to bears). I had just gotten back from university, it was dark and I parked the car in the garage, across the street from where I lived. I remember how I was looking forward to getting home to have a nice warm cup of soup to take away the winter chill. I was walking towards the main street when out of the winter darkness, a man came running towards me and slammed me up against the side of the consulate wall less than a meter away from the guard box and tried to force himself on me. With one arm I struggled to push him away and off of me. He was trying to put his mouth on my lips and face. With my other hand I tried to block his hands from touching my private parts and to hit with all my might. He tried to push his body on me, but I kept moving mine to avoid contact. “This is my body! You have no right! Get off! NO!” were the thoughts that were racing rampantly in my mind and fueled my resistance. He was stronger than me, but my determination to not give-in made him give up, because he knew that he wouldn’t succeed.

TELL ME I WANTED IT!

Believe it or not, that wasn’t the worst part. There were people watching the scene on fold. These people were the parking attendants, who knew my father, and who had known me since we moved to Egypt. When I was able to speak, I turned to them and asked in Arabic “Why didn’t you come and help me?” Their response was worse than the assault itself “You didn’t scream and it looked like you wanted it to happen.” I was in S.H.O.C.K. why would I want that? The struggle and fending him off wasn’t enough to warrant any kind of assistance of act of heroism? “I was hitting him! I didn’t want it and I don’t have to scream for help!”

I told my parents what happened and my father went and talked to the garage attendants, not long afterwards, he stopped parking the car at the garage. I didn’t see the attackers face clearly and I wouldn’t have been able to describe him well, to give a report or testimony.

Our lecture ended early one Sunday evening and as we came out to the main courtyard, the security guards decided amongst themselves that we had to get off campus, when we have the right to be there till 10pm. They ushered us out and locked the gate behind us. Two of my female friends were with me. I went and got my little car and parked in front of the gate for us to sit it. One friend was parked further away from campus under the bridge. I told her I’d drive her to her car, so she wouldn’t walk alone, because it was starting to get dark. My other friend went across the street to the pharmacy to call her parents to tell them to inform them we finished early and needed to be picked up earlier (This was before mobile phones). As we waited for my friend to come back from making her call, a kid no older that fifteen walked by my car and made some comment or other and walked on. I didn’t think anything of it. I rolled down my window to adjust my side mirror and wound it up mid way to let some air in (I didn’t have A/C). As my friend was making her way back to the car, I heard running feet from behind the car, I looked into my side my mirror in time to see the same kid, who’d passed by moments ago attempt to dive head first in through the half open window. He had both hands in and was trying to get his head in through the gap too. I used one arm to block the opening of the window and the other to hit and push him out. He was trying to force himself through the small space to put his hands on me chest and kiss me. I couldn’t find my voice to shout or scream for help, it had retreated. My friend sat next to me over came her initial shock and got out of the car and shouted for help “EL NAJDA! El NAJDA!”, no one came. It wasn’t for lack of people, people were around. There were a group of guys sat in a car not far from my mine, with a clear view of what was happening and were laughing. People passing went about their business as though we were invisible. He ran off when she started screaming for help. My friend who had been making her way back to us, was frozen in fear in the middle of the street and didn’t know what to do. When I composed myself, I got out of the car, with shaking legs and went to the university gate and tapped on the window the security guards yelled “What do you want? We said campus is closed! Go away!” I said it’s amazing how you can hear a tap on the window, but not when a girl is screaming for help. They asked what was wrong. I briefly retold what happened and their reply was “Maalish, Hassal Kheir” Which roughly translates to ‘It’s alright, no harm done’.

Tell Me..

Go On..

Tell Me I Wanted It To Happen..

Tell Me I Was Asking For It

I went home and told my parents and they took matters into their own hands, the police commissioner was contacted, I was offered police escort to and from university. The director of the university was contacted and informed what happened and I was offered parking on campus with the faculty. That was all well and good, but it didn’t solve the problem and it wouldn’t prevent it from happening to any other girl. I refused the escort and special parking, because I knew that false stories and rumors would fly around in a small city like Alexandria and I didn’t need or want that following me everywhere I went. So, I went to the Dean of Students and told her what happened, she suggested firing the security guards. That also was not a solution. I insisted that campus was to remain open until closing time and that girls were not made to go stand out in the street in the evening/night and for the guards to do their job. When I left campus that day the same guards confronted me and said “Mish ulnaa khalaas, hassal kheir?” (didn’t we say it’s over and no harm done?) I told them no, kheir didn’t happen and if it was your daughter or sister, you wouldn’t let it go. I informed them that I had the opportunity to get them fired, but didn’t want to cut off their lively hood so they could provide for their families, but I REALLY don’t want what happened to me, to happen to anyone else and not to kick students off campus. From that day onwards, I always had someone walk me to my car and watch me drive off.

I learned early on and quickly that I have a better chance of asking for help if I was being robbed than if I was being assaulted because the blame would fall on me. Why? Simply because I’m a female. Being alive is apparently reason enough to draw attention. I have tried to make myself invisible, I would not wear lipstick, I don’t wear makeup, I don’t wear skirts or dresses, I wouldn’t have my hair down, I learned to wear sunglasses during the day time, so my eyes would not meet anyone else’s and to have a scowl on my face to make me look angry and unapproachable. I have always dressed modestly, but I have to triple check before I leave the house to make sure I’m covered well. I make sure that my tops are loose fitting nothing is sheer and that I have a long baggy shrug or cotton cardigan to wear that goes past my waist. My shoes are usually flats and closed toe, so that if I need to kick or run I can do so with ease. I try not to be on the phone in a taxi or when walking. I don’t listen to music on my earphones, so that my senses are all on high alert. I took a few self-defense workshops here and there, to know a few tactics and moves to use just in case.

But Guess what?

It Still Happens.

We Still Get Blamed.

But…

We have had ENOUGH!

We are starting to fight back

We are telling our stories

We are speaking our truth We are seeking justice

Laws are changing

People are listening

We. Will. Be. Respected.

WE NEVER WANT FOR IT TO HAPPEN! WE DON’T ASK FOR IT! HARASSERS BELIEVE THEY CAN,

So the next time you see someone being harassed in anyway. Don’t turn a blind eye, because that could be your mother, your sister or your aunt. Your silence is just as bad as the assault itself. Men enable other men, by remaining quiet and not speaking out against it and walking away or being a bystander when it’s occurring right in front of them.

You don’t need to be a hero. You just need to make some noise!

To all the mamas and papas out there start teaching and talking to your boys about how to treat women with respect. When a girl or woman says no. It means NO. Having said that, teach your girls that they should no longer remain silent when someone is disrespecting them and trying to touch what it not theirs.

Important Contacts

National Council of Women Hot Lines

16000 (younger than 18) 15115 (over 18 years of age)

Anti violence against women in the ministry of interior; 011269777444 012595773333 01126977222

Association of Egyptian Female Lawyers : is a registered NGO with the Egyptian Ministry of Social Solidarity (#3236) with the mission of activating women’s political participation and supporting women’s legal and political rights that approved by national law and international conventions.

Cairo Foundation For Development and Law: 01279717326 (for legal support)

HarassMap is an initiative combats harassment everywhere, and provides access to lawyers if necessary while urging institutions to report harassment.

Why Are You Still Single?

Before Ramadan I met up with an old university buddy of mine. He and I had been talking and catching up over dinner one evening, when he hit me with a question.

“You’re such a catch Nadz, how come you’ve never been snatched up?” Was how he started. “You’re attractive, independent, smart, funny AND you can cook! Is it because you’re too picky, not finding the right fit or just plain old assholism?” Then he paused, “or maybe a combination of all of the above?”

In that moment, I found the question humorous and I had an answer for him, but when I left, the question lingered and has been oscillating in my cranium ever since.

“Why have I not been picked to be someone’s significant other or life time partner?”

“Am I too picky?”

“Is there something wrong with me?” “Is there such thing as a match?”

There have been a few things that have contributed to my status…

To begin with, I’m of mixed ethnicity. I’ve been raised to embrace both cultures. I took the good from my European and my North African heritage, to enrich and better myself as a person. There are some social traditions and standards from both that I respect and uphold. Due to my mongrelism – I often find that some men (and people), find me somewhat exotic as well as peculiar. I can’t be put into ‘A Box’ or labeled, which they find hard to fathom and to deal with. Being divergent makes some people very uncomfortable and unable to see me as just a person. I’m regarded as a melange that is hard for them to fathom or even accept.

In addition to being of mixed race, many thought that, just because my mum is a westerner that means that I’m easy. That I’m not a ‘good’ girl.

What does that mean?

Simply put, It means that they think, I would be willing to drop my knickers with the snap of their fingers. Many learned the hard way, that, that was far from true. I actually put one guy in a head-lock once for attempting to put his hands under my shirt and demanded he tell me what made him think that he could do that?

He said because I was more Khawaga (foreign), than Egyptian, (a misconception that continues to plague my existence to this very day). So, I threw it back at him. I said if a guy did what he had just done to his sister or female cousin, he’d be ok with it? “No, not at all.” He said with nostrils flaring as the image formed in his mind. ‘So, then you should treat me the same way, you’d expect a guy to treat them. My mother IS foreign, but my father IS Egyptian.” Then I left.

In addition to my multicultural background, I have parents from two different religious faiths. Growing up, I had the best of both and thought nothing of it! I celebrated Christmas and Easter, Ramadan and Eids, but as I grew older, people pointed it out to me, I struggled with identifying which I belonged to. Over years of experiences, knowledge gained and self reflection. I found that I have a deep admiration and respect for religions in general. Their purpose is/was to help us mortals stay on the right path and aid us in becoming ‘our best selves’. I find religious beliefs fascinating, I hold no negativity towards different observances, as long as they don’t cause harm to others. My approach is more spiritual and doing us much good as I can in this life time. Growing up, my sister and I both found out that some of our suitors pursuits came to an unexpected and abrupt halt once their parents found out that my mother wasn’t of the Islamic faith. They didn’t think that we had been “raised” with the correct teachings, morals and values (How wrong they were). So, they deterred their son’s from further pursuing and convinced them we would not be a good match for them or gel with their family.

It was hurtful to us, and to my mother that we should be judged on a whim, without ever having met us. On one occasion my father heard through the Alexandrian grape vine (gossip channels) why one suitor’s father opposed the proposal. It angered him deeply. “How could I allow the father of the young man to enter our house, knowing that he has such negative thoughts and things to say about my wife?” He had a valid point. “There is nothing in our religion that forbids the union between a Muslim man and a Christian woman!” Was the message he gave to us (perhaps not so eloquently), but you get the idea.

We moved to Alexandria from Saudi Arabia after the Gulf invasion of 91. I was the new kid on the block. Fair, freckled and spoke English fluently but, I didn’t grow up in the city, I didn’t have the ‘family friends’ from birth that many people grew up with. I wasn’t a member of a club or with a cabin in Montazah. I was an outsider, an unknown. My Egyptian family although very well known before the first revolution that Egypt had in the 50s, were quite well to do and prominent. But in the modern era, we weren’t people of interest’ or connections. So, I wasn’t exactly ‘A Catch’. In their opinion, I had nothing to bring to the table, to make the joining of families worthwhile. Unless you count my foreign passport, foreign completion and ability to speak English fluently as an asset.

You may think, that I’m exaggerating or even making this up. I wish I was. I sincerely do, but some of those I had met and had a brief (puppy love) romance with in the past, actually told me this. So, I heard it from the horse’s mouth as you’d say. Who I was, as a person… had no value. It was all business.

My parents raised us to be strong, independent and to have an opinion. We were taught to be able to agree to disagree while maintaining respect for the other person. “You never know what tomorrow will bring, you may fall from the pedestal and if you don’t have these life skills, you won’t know how to get back up.” “We won’t always be here, you have to learn how to do it for yourself.” “One day you’ll own your own home, you have to know how to run it and take care of it.” Were many of the things we heard over the years. Most of which have come true and without those early lessons, I don’t think my sister and I would be the people we are today or where we are today.

Being strong, independent and opinionated doesn’t always bode well. Many want a trophy like kind of wife. Who looks glam, put together, says the right thing…. Yeah that’s not me. My father received a call, from a woman years ago. The woman said she had seen his daughter in the pharmacy and would like to propose on behalf of her son.

My father asked what the son thought, she replied “I’m his mother, he will respect and go with my decision.” She then went to list their assets and what he did for a living. My father said “Masha’a Allah (God’s blessings), but my daughter would have to meet him and have a say in the matter. I won’t choose for her.” Flabbergasted the woman said “You need to marry her young, before she begins to form opinions of her own.” I don’t know how he kept his cool, but he politely ended the conversation and told her that he didn’t think it would be a good match.

“I have loved and lost” as the saying goes, but I prefer to say, “I’ve kissed many prince charmings, but they all turned out to be frogs.”

When I was younger, I used to wear my heart on my sleeve. I would trust easily and was quite romantic. With time, I became wiser, and after many heartaches and a few breaks, I became less inclined to follow my heart, but to follow my head. My younger -self was quite attractive, outgoing, and fun (not to say that I’m less so now). My present self has become wiser, more reserved and takes her time to trust the person attempting to court. After many incidences of discovering that the person I had been dating had been cheating on me or lied about their marital status.

My morals and personal ethics forbid me from crossing the line of dating or getting involved with a married or separated man. I would hate it if roles were reversed and I found out that the man, I had promised to be loyal to, the father of my children, the person I share a home and bed with, was having an affair. I couldn’t in all consciousness do that to another person or have a hand in destroying someone else’s family.

I don’t think I would be able to sleep at night if I did, AND I certainly wouldn’t want to get on Karma’s bad side either. What goes around comes around…

One guy made the GRAVE mistake of lying about being divorced. His wife had access to his online accounts and saw that he was attempting to lead me on. She had read how I refused an expensive gift from him, and insisting that money should have gone to his kids, not to someone he had just met. From the conversation she could tell what kind of person I was. So, she paid me the curtsey of calling me and explaining that he isn’t divorced and that he lives with her and her two kids. I can’t begin to describe how mad and and sick to the stomach this made me feel. That he would not only do that to his wife and kids but would want to drag me into this madness.

His wife and I teamed up.

Let’s just say he met his match with me and got a big wake-up call.

That’s all I will say.

In my teens and early twenties, I would easily be “Ga Ga” over a guy, and would see everything through rose colored glasses; trust him and be exceptionally loyal that I wouldn’t see the signs or omens of what was wrong before me. Some would even get away with being rude, controlling and because I thought I was love struck, I allowed it to happen.

Now that I know my worth, I am more in control. I ask tough questions about their long term intentions, pay close attention to see if their actions match their words and vice versa. I notice small details that I used to overlook, that tell a lot about the person’s true character. I also allow for the pursuit to take time, so that those who are only after one thing… end up falling by the way side, because they’ve found someone else who might be more willing to meet ‘their needs and requirements.’ Those that are genuine continue to pursue and are interested in my company for the right reasons. Sometimes my filter isn’t fool proof and I misjudge, but I know my conscience is clear because I did all that I could to protect my Kintsukuroi heart.

Let’s pause for a second…

I don’t want you to get the wrong impression…I’m not slamming men. I’m NOT saying all guys think like this. I am only recounting MY personal experiences of unfortunate (but very character building) events and what has led me to remain single. I have been fortunate to learn from them, even if it was painful. There are some good men out there who look beyond the facade and actually want a person of substance. There are men who are sapiosexual and not solely drawn to physical appearances, social connections and family fortune. I just haven’t been fortunate enough to have found a partner of that caliber… YET!

Before I had gotten engaged in 2017, I was quite content and at peace with the idea of remaining a spinster and living my life to the fullest. After having a partner and someone to share and experience things with… it altered my perspective. I do miss the companionship, the support. I also miss having a partner to communicate with and share the good things and bad things with.

People tell me to move forward, throw it over my shoulder and not to worry “there are plenty of fish in the sea” and that “something better is coming along, it will happen when you least expect it.”

I am skeptical and have doubts that I will find someone who accepts me for who I am, with all my faults and multiculturalism. The best thing I can do is to keep living life to the fullest, making each day count and meet new people with an open mind, trying not to take rejection to heart. WHILE never losing my self value, self respect or compromising who I am, to appease someone else, and make them feel more comfortable.

Until then… I will continue to live everyday as best as I can and work on making me an even better me.