Tag: culture

It's not just Muslim women

When people ask me how I like living in Qatar – as I’ve done for the past four years – it’s usually the weather or the Islamic culture they are asking about. How do I deal the extreme temperatures that are mirrored (in some people’s opinions) in the extreme attitudes towards women’s dress, alcohol, etc. is at the root of both these questions.

This summer I’m living in Damascus, Syria and studying Arabic intensively because most people in Qatar converse in English and will switch to English with foreigners.

The interesting part of being here is the cultural in-between space that I find myself once again occupying. I am married; therefore I don’t want to live in an apartment with non-relative men. I don’t drink alcohol and I prefer that men who aren’t my brother or father to not touch me even in jest or passing; I believe in God.

These are four principles I share with Muslim women even though I am not Muslim. People are often surprised by my adherence to these traits because they are used to their stereotypes of "Western" or foreign women who are reputed to have no such standards.

Indeed all conservatives treat their women the same: Hindus, Christians, Muslims, Jews. All the faithful female followers cover themselves, accept subscribed positions in their various societies, and are responsible for child rearing. The irony of course is that the most pious of these religious leaders rarely see any similarities between their faiths.

I do like living in Qatar because I don’t have to explain why any of the above is true. Arabs are pleasantly surprised to find that we have common ground. I also try to explain to individualistic Westerners how collectivist societies influence the choices of their members. And I have come to the moment that my parents were waiting for – an appreciation for the values they instilled in me (although we still have differences about how they were delivered).
 

If you've lost your way in Syria then just ask

Last week I was in London and raving about the street cleaners knowledge of their city. This week I’m in Damascus, Syria – yes, my friends all give me a hard time about the ‘jet setter’ that I am – to learn Arabic over the next five weeks. And this morning it was a street cleaner who took me, along with his cart, to the building where I was having my Arabic lesson.

Everyone here – admittedly the men – is really friendly and willing to help with directions. The reason I chose Damascus over other Arab capitals such as Cairo and Beirut was two fold. I had never been and I also heard Syrians are proud to speak Arabic, even with foreigners who stumble, get the masculine/feminine/pronoun endings of verbs wrong and generally confuse the listener while being confused themselves. And my first four days have proven this to be true.

Today I had a hilarious trudge through the souk to meet up with my fellow classmates, realizing only halfway through that I had inadvertently switched from asking for directions to the garden to asking how to get to the handbag. The three of us, the two men selling water and I, had a good laugh.

Hopefully I won’t make that mistake again soon.

Still not by the content of character

Yesterday I watched the Martin Luther King Jr. "I Have a Dream" speech on the anniversary of his birthday.
Today, three times at the American Embassy I was told to come back at 3:00 pm to pick up my passport because that’s when immigrant visas were issued.

Three times I had to reassure them, despite wearing Western clothing, speaking with a Western accent, and showing up during American citizen service hours, that I was in fact there to pick up American passports, not immigrant visas.

The most abrasive time happened when I was at the counter itself. The person took my two tickets and said, "Someone will be here to help you with this soon." He then pushed the electronic button to advance to the next number. I sat down, in the front row, right in front of the window.

A man came from the back and said, "You need to pick these up at 3:00 p.m."
I said, "Why? It says on the card from 1-3 o’clock."

He looked at thecard, at me, and said, "You need to speak to the person who gave you this. When did you do this?"

"Last Thursday," I said, "it was a woman." 

I don’t know who was more frustrated: The first teller, his colleague or me.

"They’re American passports," I said, for no reason at all, since no one had thought to ask me.

"For additional pages?" the first guy said, having not asked me this when I handed over my cards.

I nodded. He asked me to pass him the pick up stubs again – all the while the next person he had called up was standing next to me – and left the window.

Lo and behold: returns two minutes later with two American passports. Mine and my husband’s – Asian American.

I wonder if he had gone to pick them up if they would have bothered to ask him, either at the check in desk, guard gate, or the teller station.

Why make the Embassy such an unpleasant place to go? As if the three years and counting construction in front of the Embassy weren’t enough frustration, a chasm worthy of a fairy tale preventing any sensible direct entry, people’s assumptions that all Americans are still white made me angry enough never to set foot into that Embassy again. Me, a person who has received numerous grants from the State department and helps host dignitaries often on their visits to Qatar. Me, who has taken countless excursions with students from Qatar to the U.S. – many for their first time – for a positive experience with American culture.

Many Westerners give Qatar a hard time for their strict attitudes towards citizenship – by birth only and only through the father. What I experienced today taught me that the embassy could do a lot of training with their staff, guards, and consular services to help them understand that American citizenship is much more inclusive. If a brown person shows up during citizen hours, maybe she isn’t misinformed. Maybe she’s there because she’s a citizen. And maybe, one of the ten people between her and the door should think to ask her.

God bless Barack Obama  – I pray for strength fo him and his family  to serve four, or more, years in the White house as America’s first non-white president. And let all non-white, and white, American citizens the world over rejoice today as he is inaugurated. We can only hope it gets better from here.