At the same time, raising a family in a well-balanced household, I've become aware of the ridiculous roles and expectations placed on men too. If my husband says he can't go play golf because he is attending his daughter's dance recital, is he giving up his "man card"? If he takes care of the kids for a weekend, why is his effort considered "babysitting"? And I despise the doltish dads on Disney Channel who make bad jokes and say stupid things that make their kids roll their eyes with mocking derision. I think I'm digressing, but it will all come back to books here in a moment...
starting...now! I finished the last 185 pgs. of The Martian, a book about a macho guy who still manages to have feelings for his friends and family, so that's a nice balance. (Then again, I guess even guys, according to gender roles, are allowed to have feelings when they might die and never see another living soul ever again.) I also read Sarah Dessen's Someone Like You (281 pgs.), mainly because I'm going to a book conference where she will be speaking, so I needed to read at least one of her books - great mother/daughter story that mixes in the confusion of teen romance (which I just barely remember experiencing...no, I lie, those memories are pretty seared into my brain). I read 180 pgs. of Alias Grace, written by one of my favorite authors, Margaret Atwood, and finally, I read a quick 148 page book called I Love I Hate I Miss My Sister by Amelie Sarn, which taught me much I did not know about being a Muslim in Europe. America may have people trumpeting their fears of Muslims, but Europe has potentially bigger discrimination issues than we do. All totaled, I read 794 pages in the past two weeks. I spent about 30 minutes per day in class reading, for a total of 150 weekly minutes in class, and I read outside of class a little less than usual (unless I count essays), fitting in 10 minutes per day with my usual hour on weekends, so about 110 minutes outside of class each week. My rate was pretty fast thanks to mixing in some young adult books.
I Love I Hate I Miss My Sister has a misleading name. To me, it sounded like typical sister drama (Quit wearing my clothes! Do NOT tell Mom where I'm going. Why do you have skinnier legs than me?) But there was so much more than that. Ms. Mayo loaned me the book, which she got from a diverse books conference, and as promised, it was a quick, meaningful bit of discovery.
Two Algerian sisters living in France wrestle with seeking to build an identity that surpasses the impressions other people have of them. Djelila, the younger sister, is the "beautiful" one who also has great athletic talents. She embraces modern styles, plays up her good looks, and skirts the edge of rebellion by drinking, spending time with boys, and smoking cigarettes. Her behavior draws the attention of an aggressive group of Muslim boys who become increasingly menacing in their bullying behaviors. Her older sister, Sohane, narrates the story and describes her struggle to live according to her Islamic beliefs, a struggle made more difficult by laws in France that prohibit her from wearing the traditional head scarf known as the hijab.
This law was my first discovery; I had no idea that France had such a law, and a quick search led me to wikipedia, of course, so I kept scrolling down to the fourth link, where I found this article in The New York Times, which appears in the "Opinion Page" but fails to establish a clear opinion. The article instead objectively explains the French desire to "defend the secular nature of the French Republic," specifically by limiting religious symbols in schools and by restricting head scarves in public. Most French citizens support the law, but many disenfranchised immigrants feel that the law has "isolated and stigmatized Muslim women." The question remains: is the law designed to protect secularism or prevent religious expression, especially expression of a religion that may not be warmly accepted throughout the country?
The book adds an interesting element to the issue in that Sohane believes in "feminism" and views it as "not a fight," but a "way of life" (53). For her, wearing the hijab as an expression of freedom and a way to earn respect for who she is, not how she looks. Her French teachers, however, argue that by wearing the hijab, she is sacrificing her freedom and giving into oppressive rules. She states that "For them, being a Muslim man means wanting to enslave women," but she says that is "only one reality among many - the one that is best known since it's the one that gets the most media coverage" (55). Apparently, France's media plays a great role in shaping cultural perceptions just as it does here in the states. At one point, during a particularly meaningful ceremony, a woman even asks Sohane to leave because wearing the hijab disregards "the liberty of women,...the defense of their free will" (140). In Sohane's mind, on the other hand, wearing the scarf IS an exercise of her free will since her religion is as much a part of her as her religion.
In the fight to protect religious freedom through a secular government, we will continually confront questions about where to draw the right lines, and unfortunately, the debate gets wrapped up with issues of fear and discrimination. The book goes much deeper than a debate about a head scarf when we discover fairly early on (so I'm not spoiling anything) that Djelila pays for her rebellion with the ultimate price, the price of her life, and only be replaying the circumstances leading up to her death can Sohane realize that her sister's choices were also an effort to achieve personal freedom and an identity forged based on her own values, rather than others. Whether we identify ourselves through religious symbols or through athletic skill or through our own attractive appearance, the choice must be ours and no one else's. That is what feminism (equalism?) fights for - not for women to be like men, for men to be more like women, or for genders to be exactly the same - simply for people to be able to be themselves. Song allusion from title, though it won't let me embed the original Beastie Boys version. Maybe it's not "appropriate." Oh well, appropriate that a tough woman is singing it, a tough woman who is still attractive and feminine:
The hijab law makes my entire moral base descend into confusion. My atheist side says that in essence, the hijab is a symbol of an outdated Hellenistic tradition of oppressing women. However, my humanist side states that it is part of their culture and cultural expression should be a right for all. However, I think I've come to a conclusion: culture and religion should not be sacred. I expressed in an essay I wrote for our practice exam that simply because ideas are tenacious does not mean they are worthy. Just as proponents of the Confederate Flag say that it represents their culture and their pride, proponents of the hijab may say that it represents their heritage and culture as well. However, just as with slavery and the Civil War, we cannot discount history. The hijab and the niqab developed out of a strong discrimination against women that originally developed in Greece and spread throughout the Middle East due to the conquests of Alexander the Great. While Western Muslims and Muslims in more developed countries have the CHOICE to wear the hijab, in most Islamic majority countries it is forced upon the women through legislation, just like they are denied the right to drive, to vote, to make any choice for themselves. To deny this fact is to disrespect the millions of women living under oppression with limited rights.
ReplyDeleteI suppose the essence of my argument is this: political correctness is necessary, but not at the cost of human rights. The sacredness of culture and religion cannot supercede the rights of individuals.