Tag: culture

Counter Cultures Eventually Go Mainstream: "Boyas" in Qatar

I’m a default random thoughts type because I’m a writer. No matter the people, country, or time period, the role of a writer remains the same: to notice, reflect or ponder the meaning behind the everyday. This past weekend I went to two events on back to back evenings where I saw something which was interesting in and of itself – a counter youth culture amongst young women in Qatar – made slightly dramatic by the reactions others had to them.

Damn She's Tall by Moggs Oceanlane

In  fishbowl like Doha, where the entire population hovers near 2 million and the nationals number 250,o00, you notice those who are different.  I’ve talked a lot about how I stand out as a western educated South Asian American woman in a sea of nannies, cooks, and maids. Depending on who is in a room when I walk into a meeting, there can be everything from mild surprise to indifference, or even hostility. The boyas, or girls whose dress is masculine, evoke similar reactions at all the female parties. (That was redundant to those who have lived in the GCC for a while: parties are gender segregated.)

Going to a wedding is no small thing: I had to find a dress, go to a salon to do my hair, pick out shoes, (“Wear pewter color, ma’am,” the girl sales girl told me, impressing me with her vocabulary. I did as I was told) select jewelry and then apply make up. It’s the western equivalent of a prom, with a bride who comes in at midnight. And all of this for an all female audience. People from the West often exclaim “What’s the point?” when they learn there aren’t men around. And this is an interesting reaction: after all, do we only look good for others? Is there no need for approval from other women? So many things about the assumptions of cult of beauty are challenged in an all female environment (though the cattiness and judgement can still remain. Someone whispered “I hate her, she’s so skinny” as another girl walked by). A standard practice is to change your display picture on your phone to show friends (usually only all girls because of the prohibitions of hijab) your glammed up self. “Hot!” A few people messaged me back when I sent photos of the end result (which they requested).

Has a New Evening Gown by Juan Manuel

When I got to the wedding, that of all the female family and friends who knew the either the bride or the groom, there were more exclamations, this time from my students. Because  while I am well heeled according to some people’s definitions of female faculty, in the land of designer brands, I’m probably only just

serviceable in two inch heels. On a day I’d rather exercise and be on time to class than put on eye liner, it never fails that someone says: “You look tired.”

In the Oscar like garden of floor length dresses that women wear to weddings, some of the boyas were wearing pants, button down shirts, and even a vest or two. The effect was that they not only stood out, as perhaps my being one of a handful of foreigners did (and the only Indian invited as a guest, while there were many Filipino maids standing in attendance on their older patrons) but they demanded attention by sheer dint of their professed masculinity.

Amongst the yards, and yards of teased, curled, and sprayed hair (mine being no exception) not to mention hundreds of dollars of extensions, the boyas had cropped hair, close to their chin and ears. In some cases they came in with girls, ultra feminine, either as escorts or friends, there was no way to be sure.  Some say that having another girl, a masculine boya, is a substitute for the value added by a male admirer – which in this gender segregated society would be construed negatively. (In either case their sexuality is not really the point of these ruminations: the expression of a public, counter persona  in a communal society is.)

The next night at a fundraiser, a friend said: “I’ve never been with so many in one room.”

The boyas were out in full force, about four or five in a group of eight or so: one girl wearing cut off shorts and biker-style jacket amidst Chanel and couture party dresses. This time they seemed less like standouts and more like a gang or cult. There were clear expectations of dress (masculine, boxy, pants, no dresses) hair (if not short, then styled up in mohawk like ridges) and they hung in tight clusters, really only talking to the people they had come in with. Yet everyone was talking about them. Rather than seem disturbed by this obvious fact, the boyas seemed to enjoy it. They walked into the room as confident as anyone else and has a good a time as the rest of us, judging by their smiles, laughter, comings and goings.

This reminded me a bit of the research I did for my Hip Hop book. Before the days of Footloose and Pepsi commercials break dancing was thought of as street culture; beat bopping and rapping didn’t always make people into millionaires and a pimp’s life often had as many problems as his hoes. When the record industry realized there were multimillion to be made from hip hop, the fringe culture of youth on the streets went from the inner cities into the cars of white boys in the suburbs and then across the oceans onto posters on the walls of teenage rooms around the world. The margin became the center.

That’s not the scale of what we’re seeing yet with the boyas. And given the social and religious strictures, we may not. But that’s not really the point, at least for those who are using this identity at the present moment. For now they seem to be happy as the thorns among the roses.

 

We Don't Have to do it Your Way

http://www.flickr.com/photos/xpace/
Ramadan Glow 3 by Benjamin Sperandio

I was having lunch with a friend the other day and as our nearly one year old boys toddled around her house, we got to chewing the salads and also the fat of life as close friends (and it must be said, women) do. Everything from business ideas to family drama was on the table alongside the fried chicken and coleslaw. Then we got to what everyone’s talking about in the Muslim world these days: Ramadan.

I mentioned the person in the UAE who was recently fined for insulting the season on Facebook.

“Why are people so surprised things close in a Muslim country?” my friend asked.

We went a couple of rounds on this one, but more on this in a bit.

The seasons of fasting is around the corner of the weekend. In order to be home — and avoid breaking fast at 10pm when the sun goes down in Europe some say — Qatari families are coming home earlier from their sun soaked days in Nice, Barcelona, or the far ends of the earth. Because the start of school and universities are delayed until after Eid al Fitr, expats are heading to the airport (or indeed airport hopping) during what they consider a “dead” month.

This split on Ramadan is emblematic of the many cities that inhabit this capital we all share — at times like this– uncomfortably.

Let’s look at some of the reasons we differ on Ramadan.

A Plural Islamic Society

The losing of restaurants, shortened working hours, and synchronized schedule that affects the malls, government, and other key services is new to most expats who are generally from environments where religion is not only practiced in private but mostly on the weekends. To bring religion into everyday life can not only be new, it seems at odds with the “your life can go on exactly as it did before — see the McDonald’s?” strategy that many organizations use when recruiting new people to Qatar. This is blatant (well meaning) false advertising.

Strangely the Victoria Secret, Volvo, or Versace may have a calming effect on the person worried about settling in away from home. But access to the familiar whether in Mumbai, Miami, or Madrid doesn’t guarantee that life in a new  city or country is going to be blip free. At the most basic, the locations of your favorite anything will be in new places, therefore not the same.

Ramadan moves back ten days each year and as long it’s near the start of the school year, it will be a dizzying first encounter for many new arrivals. Not eating in public, avoiding drinking in your car; these are confusing signals juxtaposed with wanting to host the World Cup or the Tour de France. The constant juggle between modernity and tradition, between culturally appropriate and individual freedom is something everyone in Qatar is experiencing and there are no easy answers.

For the now, luxury brands and not eating in the workplace are not mutually exclusive.

A Believer’s Community

When you move to a country for a job, what you end up doing is working. Even those Muslims who are not from the Gulf or here without their families find Ramadan a lonely time because it is a season where the community supports itself in gathering closer to God. The gatherings within people’s homes, akin to looking in while people are circled around an Easter brunch, are closed off to those who don’t know anyone, don’t have invitations, or in general, are lonely. This is the opposite of the season, as many groups have iftars, or group dinners, sponsored for charity as much as entertainment, to gather together.

You can still fall through the cracks, however, and this means rather than drawing closer to God through those around you, you feel more alone than ever. This is no different than any other holiday season: Christmas or Diwali, when the overall effect is isolation rather than inclusion, it may feel more compounded because public life is truncated during the day and most people who are fasting will generally not be as available as they might otherwise be.

But back to the main subject during my lunch, which circulated around a central question: Why do visitors, guests, non-citizens feel so comfortable about criticizing their host country? Whether Ramadan, or Qatari National Day (which infamously sparked a firestorm online), my friend was curious exactly why people felt and expressed themselves vociferously.

“Would you hear an Arab talking about the 4th of July?” she asked me. “No, we’d say, okay, this is their country, let them do it their way.”

She had a point, and a crystallizing one — even if someone thought Christmas was excessive, Diwali pagan, and the Solstice unnecessary, these views would eventually disappear into white noise in most contexts because they do not have the entrenched charge that cultural critique takes on in Qatar.

A Minefield

There’s the us/against them factor, which we’ve discussed in the past; but also, if you are new and you are experiencing Ramadan for the first time, your grumble is the first to you and perhaps natural, no harm intended, more processing. But you’ll forget or be completely unaware that it’s the tenth or twentieth for the person, often Qatari, sometimes Arab or Muslim from somewhere else, to hear this by now, unoriginal reaction.

Child rearing, fashion, movies, culture — they are all blank canvases for us to express our opinions. If you live in Doha, however, the stakes seem very high and generally come down along racial or religious lines. When we are talking about Ramadan, or traffic, or friendships, we aren’t merely talking about the issue at hand but the psychic force of all the other ones as well come to bear. It’s like being in a distinguishing relationship, where arguments escalate, and you both care, or remember caring, or want to care — and you need a new way out of an old, destructive pattern.

This Ramadan, why not reach out to someone and do the thing the season was designed to do: spend thoughtful, intentional time at a meal, or in prayer, or some other activity that will make you feel more connected rather than alienated? Let’s bring out the best in each other, expat and Qatar, South Asian and western, rather than the worst that is circling around us in the all the too present stereotypes.

After all — you know you’ll have some time — what else are you going to do while waiting for everything to open?


How to Make Qatari Friends: Part Three

We’ve been discussing the relationships between Qataris and expats for a few weeks and I’ve tried to pose some new angles to lamentation: “I’ve never been inside a Qatari house.”

The reasons for this are many, but in the last two weeks, we’ve touched on a few key areas.

First: Expats in general do not have a long enough shelf life in Qatar to allow for relationships to develop.

Second: there is a mutual distrust in both circles of “the other” which include a bit of myth and fact that are compounded by isolation.

Lest you were thinking I was only going to cover more of the same ground , now we come to solutions of how to bridge this divide in the city that many of us call home – if only temporarily for some.  Yes, if you hang around long enough you may end up invited to a majlis or dinner; but even there you are unlikely to get past the courtesy hellos because the other attendees will still have the aforementioned reservations in mind. You, as the foreigner, will be there on the good graces of the host and for that reason tolerated.

The best way that I’ve found to make Qatari friends, or indeed friends from any other community in Doha besides my own, is to undertake something of substance together. In short: a project of mutual interest and benefit to everyone who is associated with it.

But if you’d like to be embraced, considered a friend, and share triumphs and tribulations —-find something meaningful to do together. This is the only way to break down stereotypes in any society, culture, country. You stand up and defend a race, a religion, a gender because you know someone who doesn’t deserve to be belittled.

It may be the most time consuming but it is the most tested form and has the most consistent results. You can sit around sheesha and karak places all night long, but until there is something you care about together, a shared goal, vision, mission, plan, that you sweat over and celebrate together; you’ll still not have the measure of who each other are. What’s of relatively low importance here is what the “thing” is that brings you together.

It could be supporting creative writers; it could be developing a concept for children in Doha; it could be establishing a local magazine, it could be creating a business idea – these are a few examples of projects I’m currently working on with the input of Arabs, expats, and Qataris. In essence: anything and everything you are passionate about get out there and start talking to people about it. Social media, real time conferences, or to your friends, figure out what you have in common with those around you and how to broaden that circle to include others.

For me the first hint that working together makes meaning possible came entirely by accident: I was bored to death during my second year in Qatar and I started to write more seriously. During this time someone suggested exploring my personal interest in writing through at grant for Qatar University to do an essay collection. There were so many uncertain elements: would we find writers? And then what about readers? Did a project like this stand a chance? The only way to know is not to decide beforehand, but to try it out.

Fear of failure had killed more good ideas and trapped more people in unhappiness than any other cause.

We tried it and 23 female writers stepped forward. The book launched at the opening of the Waqif Art Center– the first collection of its kind in Qatar – and people (including male writers) began asking: when will the next book be out? The Qatar Narratives Series, now in our 5th title, was created.

I crunched down all of this in answering one of the questions during the discussion held by the Doha Film Institute a week or so ago to check the pulse of the community regarding TEDxDoha and all things TED. The question: what are incorrect assumptions (or mistakes) westerners make about Qatar?

One of the main concerns is what we’ve been talking about already, the idea that the well-known Arab hospitality is little experienced by the vast majority of expats.

Brian Wesolowski, from ictQatar, and Creative Commons evangelist, began answering this seemingly sensitive subject. And what he said echoes much of what we’ve been saying: He found that he developed relationships with people in the local community as he started talking about Creative Commons. Through coffees, teas, and dinners, he let artists, photographers, designers; know that there was a platform ready for them to display their creativity. Brian was passionate about CC and through CC he gained an entire multi-national community.

It’s not easy, you’re thinking, what about my job, or my family, or my hobby? Well, if it were easy, everyone would do it. And that hobby? Well, it may just be your ticket to a more meaningful experience.

If you aren’t familiar with TED, the NGO that’s believes in “Ideas worth Spreading” then instead of crawling YouTube, spend a few (thousand) hours with experts in Technology, Environment, and Design.  In 15 minute segments, TED gives you access to the world famous including Bill Gates and Madeline Albright, as well as everyday practitioners perfecting their techniques all over the world. Offshoots of the official TED are TEDx, or independently organized events and in 2010 Doha hosted its very first TEDxDoha event, put together by the Doha Film Institute. Contact them if you’re interested in learning more about how you can get involved (and meet others interested in doing so).