Once upon a war...

I was only six years old when Israel invaded Beirut, and from that terrible time, I kept only one memory: My brother and I are playing on the balcony when thousands of colourful confetti rained down on us. We picked them up and they were flyers with writing on them. A carnival! There's going to be a carnival in Beirut soon! It was all so exciting. We started collecting the flyers and making paper planes and throwing them down the street. Every thing was full of colour. I remember it being so beautiful. The memory vanishes after that...

Years later, the family is having a reminiscing moment about the war, and I mention the confetti, wondering if we ever went to that carnival. My brother looks at me incredulously, "What carnival? These were flyers thrown by Israel warning of the threat of the PLO and explaining that we, the Lebanese, are not the target of their invasion". I was speechless... The six-year-old me must have tried to protect herself by conjuring this pleasant memory from what could have been awfully frightening. Of course the invasion ended up costing over 20,000 civilian lives, with 40,000 wounded. Because that's how "targeted" Israel's wars have always been.

I share this today because it's been on my mind for a while, the ability of a child to protect herself by erasing scary memories. And it keeps taking me to the children of Gaza and Syria, and all the horrors they are seeing. How powerful does their defense mechanism have to be to reinvent a bearable memory from all this? How will they ever be able to unsee images that the strongest of us shudders at in one glance? These aren't flyers falling from the sky, after which you can pack up and leave. These are phone calls and text messages informing you that your life as you know it is over, with nowhere to go, nowhere to hide and no means to forget. This stays with you, and your childhood is lost, forever.

It has to stop... It must stop.

How the "The Law to Protect Women from Family Violence" never came to pass

In quintessential Lebanese style, parliament just passed a law that initially meant to protect women from violence at home but has been modified beyond recognition to what is now known as “The Bill for the Protection of Women and Family Members Against Domestic Violence". The Legal Agenda has done a great job of explaining why this law is in fact insulting to feminists and anyone who appreciates a sense of justice in their society. Here are a few points from their thorough analysis. I highly recommend reading the article in full:

The subcommittee in charge of reviewing the original draft law prepared by the NGO KAFA (Enough) objected that the text of the legislation does not treat all members of the same family equally and discriminates positively for women. Without a shred of irony, they argued that  the draft law "contradicted Article 7 of the Lebanese Constitution enshrining equality of all Lebanese in terms of their rights and obligations." Because we all know that all Lebanese are treated equally under the law, except for some Lebanese (i.e. males) who are treated more equally than others (read civil status law).

It is common knowledge that the subcommittee had removed "marital rape" and "forced marriage" from the text of the original draft. It claimed that only physical violence that can be proven as per the Criminal Law counts. But did you know that the committee just added “marital rights to intercourse” in an explicit text of civil law (Clause 7(a) of Article 3 of the amended draft)? If this draft passes, guess what it means. The Legal Agenda depressingly expalins:

"Not only does the amendment fail to consider marital rape an act of violence, it might actually lead to deeming the infliction of harm by a wife on her husband while fighting off his attempt to rape her an act of violence itself."

In other words, the husband can legally rape his wife, and if she fights back, he can sue her for domestic violence.

To add insult to injury, the committee also included "adultery among the list of crimes that fall under marital violence, thereby allowing the aggrieved husband to seek protective measures under the law." Why? Because equality apparently.

Happy April's Fools everyone. We've all been duped.

Nudity indeed sells

When I first heard about Jackie Chamoun's leaked video and the criticism that made her apologize, I was offended. Why should she? If Lebanon was indeed a conservative society, then we shouldn't be subjected to the political porn we have to endure on a daily basis. Of course, I also wholeheartedly believe that a woman (or man) has the right to do whatever they want with their bodies and no one has the right to dictate their moral standards on them. The incident soon snowballed resulting in hundreds of blog posts and tweets and hashtags and creepy dude pics, all in support of Jackie's right to strip and represent Lebanon in the Olympics. Good for them. Good for us (I also did my share of tweeting and FB sharing).

But looking at the extent of the supportive response (to be honest I barely saw any negative comments about Jackie), I wonder where all this energy and indignation is coming from. I didn't see any of it when Roula Yacoub's husband was found not guilty of murdering her, under extremely murky legal proceedings. Why hasn't there been any outrage at the refusal of the police to intervene in a domestic violence incident that lead to the murder of another woman? I don't see any hashtags or Instagram photos calling for justice and rule of law, and for adopting progressive domestic violence legislation in Lebanon.

So I do want to ask, how "modern" are we as a society? And is it freedom and human rights that we are advocating, or just the image that comes with it?

Just food for thought.

Is Egypt really the worst Arab state for women?

After Amman was the rated the third "Ugliest City in the World" and Beirut the 20th "Top City in the World", using vague criteria such as "dirty, chaotic streets and ugly buildings looking like they're crumbling on top of each other" (in reference to Amman not Beirut!), the polling community has come up with a new ranking system: worst Arab states for women. And Egypt won, apparently due to a "surge in violence and Islamist feeling", whatever that means.

Now I am not going to make the argument that Egypt doesn't deserve the title when there are countries like Saudi Arabia and Yemen in contention. I am not an expert on how it is to be a woman in Egypt these days, enduring harassment in the street on a daily basis, nor have I ever been a female citizen of Saudi or Yemen. But I am almost certain that as a Lebanese woman, it in no way feels like I am supposed to be worse off than a woman living in Somalia, a country that still refuses to sign the Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women. I do not believe that as a woman living in Tunisia, with full citizenship rights, I would be worse off than a Jordanian woman, exposed to "honor" crimes and denied the right to pass my citizenship to my children, where the glass ceiling feels like fortified cement. Something doesn't add up here.

This strangely designed poll by the Thomas Reuters Foundation is reminiscent of the annual Transparency International  poll in which people from different countries are asked about the perception of corruption in their country. The headlines always goes something like "Lebanon most corrupt country in Middle East". In fact, it is simply an indicator of people's perception about corruption, because there is no other way of actually measuring corruption (you can't just go up to a politician and ask them if they accept bribes - well let's just say it gets more complicated). This poll basically asked "336 specialists" their own opinion on whether statements like "Women and men have equal access to run for all elected positions in public office" or "Girls are expected to give up their education sooner than boys" in their country. As complicated as the statements were to confirm, more problematic were answering questions like: "Current inheritance laws are biased towards men.", an issue that has a basis in religion.

What bothered me about this poll is first, the obviously strange and inexplicable results. The second thing is that many of the questions, such as "Marital rape is recognised by law and punished" or "Female genital mutilation is a common practice in this country" can be clearly answered through a little bit of research. They are not really perception based. Another problem is using the indicator of access to health care, as Karl noted, which may not be a sign of a gender equal society but of a rentier state, compared to a country that does not provide public health care to any of its citizens.

I am not sure why the Thomas Reuters foundation decided to conduct their study in this manner, but it has not shed any light on the issue of gender discrimination in the Arab world, as we ended up with one more useless list of countries ranked at someone else's whim.

A justified rant: Are you kidding me with this citizenship thing?

This seriously cannot go on. How retarded are we? Did you know this:

Palestine was the first Arab country to give women the right to pass on their citizenship, in 2003, followed by Egypt, Algeria, Morocco, Yemen, Tunisia and Libya. Last year, the UAE announced that children of Emirati women married to foreigners could apply for citizenship once they turn 18. And in January 2012, the Council of Ministers in Saudi Arabia announced it would grant citizenship to children of Saudi women married to non-Saudi men, on the condition that they meet other citizenship requirements.

Saudi Arabia people. Where women can't drive. Saudi Arabia, the most backward country in the world when it comes to women's rights, doesn't think that granting women the right to pass on their nationality will turn their country upside down and ruin life for everyone else.

But in Lebanon, it's a different story. In Lebanon, we form an all-male committee to review the possibility of granting women full citizenship. We not only leave it to the "men" to decide, we do it at the most patronizing timing: On Mother's Day. You know, as a "gift" to mothers, not an inherent right to all women. Of course the committee found that this "gift" was not a good idea after all, because despite the constitution, human rights and international treaties that Lebanon is committed to, granting this priceless gift may unhinge the delicate sectarian balance of the nation. And God forbid this sectarian balance, that for all I can see only guarantees government positions for the country's warlords, should be unhinged. Meanwhile, Americans of Lebanese male ancestry from 1921 have every right to that coveted nationality. I wonder how many actually claimed it.

I don't know why we expected anything different from such a cynical committee. Everybody knows that on Mother's Day, the Lebanese buy their mothers toasters.

Untold tales of courage: Shelters and dyed hair

Our mothers brought us up to be strong, independent and responsible. They did a great job and the proof is the amazing number of wonderful, accomplished and activist women I see around me. The problem is that to do it, they had to pay dearly. Not only did they have to prove that they could juggle a career and family (because at that point, men would not hear of domestic responsibilities), they had to be politically and socially engaged. If they were to maintain that freedom, they had to become super women. At least that's how I saw the mothers and women around me. And one of those exceptional women is Vali. She is the topic of this latest post in the Untold Tales of Courage series I've been working on.

Vali is a pediatrician,

a fearless fighter,

and a mother of 5, one of whom made this post a whole lot more interesting by creating this wonderful comic based on her life (Thanks Lena for giving me permission to use your work: "Mrabba wo Laban, or how my mother became Lebanese").

Oh and she lived through the Lebanese civil war, having to dye her hair brown to avoid the kidnappings that were rampant in Beirut in the 1980s.

Of which she experienced once... in 1979. When stopped at a militia check point (anyone who moved around in Lebanon at the time knows how ubiquitous those were), Vali - and her car - was abducted. But for Vali, as for many other women of her generation, the immediate reaction was not fear and despair. It was anger, anger at the young men who may as well have been her sons, and who were ruining her country with their macho cowardly behavior. She basically shamed them into letting her go. The car, they kept.

Vali says that every time someone close to her passes away, she reads a history book, because history gives her a broader view of her existence. And she overcomes her sadness by comparing it to that of people who's countries faced wars and devastation. She says that the atlas was her greatest breather, as she could travel on the map from city to city.

During the Gaza siege and bombing, Vali was furious and frustrated about the lack of access to health care. "If my eyesight was still OK (she suffers from a condition seriously compromising her sight), I would go to Gaza", she declared. I believe her.

And so, to the super women of that generation, I remain in awe of you. I may never live up to your accomplishments, but it's the challenge that will make it worthwhile.

Taking our rights, there's no other way

A few months ago, I was talking to my family about some of the major gender issues that really need to be raised in Lebanon. I also said that I am angry enough to engage in activities that promote these issues and raise awareness. To my shock, one of my close relatives blurted out "I thought you were more mature than that. We are in the midst of an Arab awakening. There's no time for western values." I am not going to go into the fit of rage that followed but suffice to say that this was not the only time I had heard such reasoning from people who should know better.

What made me think of this incident is the recent campaign against rape (#FightRape) launched in Lebanon  and which seems to be gaining quite a bit of momentum (check out and join the facebook page here). The thing is, at first, I couldn't get my head around it because the campaign is basically pressuring parliament to adopt the draft Law Protection from Domestic Violence. In other words, it is demanding that the government start penalizing husbands for raping their wives. Apparently, society in Lebanon is not ready for government to intervene in such delicate matters, and by society I mean religious leaders and by delicate matters I mean awful crimes. I always thought the most prominent issue Lebanese women faced was that they could not pass on their nationality to their children, because I relate to that. I couldn't believe that in a country that boasts its liberal values to those around it, a woman can be raped by a man and be forced to make him breakfast in the morning. But it's true. And there is no way to describe it but shameful. It needs to end.

But the problem is so much deeper than that. It's an epidemic. The country (and region) is diseased and it's time for some real solutions. I'm doing my bit and spreading the word about this campaign that is demanding a basic human right for protection from a government ambivalent to half its citizens.

If you're in Beirut then be there, on Saturday, January the 14th from noon until 3 pm at the Ministry of Interior. The demonstration will march to parliament. Bring your friends. Show those quasi-public servants that they are the only ones who are ambivalent.

Myriam Achkar and the Collective Response

On 22 November 2011, Lebanon's independence day, the body of a 28-year-old Lebanese woman, Myriam Achkar, was found in the woods of Sahel Alma near Jounieh, north of Beirut. She was murdered by Fathi Jaber Al-Salatini, a Syrian national working as a janitor at a nearby monastery. He had apparently attempted to rape her. First I want to extend my sincere condolences to her family - although belated. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain and suffering they are going through.

Although I was extremely shocked and angered by this crime, the reason I am writing this post is not to talk about the murder itself, but what it has shown about the level of discussion in the country. I may be mistaken but I strongly feel that this was one of the most widely discussed issue in the Lebanese blogosphere, from what it meant that she was a Christian and the fact that the murderer was Syrian to the debate about sexual violence against women in general and the irresponsible behaviour of media outlets. I have therefore collected all blogs addressing this heinous crime in this post, with a brief about some of the conclusions made for each. I will be adding more to it as I find them (please feel free to point out any that I've missed in the comments section and I will get to it).

Labaki's Ou Hala La Wein: Form without content?

Is it finally here? The film that will get the international recognition that Lebanon has been waiting for? Ou Hala La Wein (Where Do We Go Now) has it all. It's got a rustic feel with a modern look. It's got an excellent cast, who can also sing. It's got drama and tragedy, with some pretty witty comedy. It touches upon, but never really gets into, a war that baffled many, enough to intrigue but not too much so as to take away from the drama. It's directed by a strong, confident, young woman who can also perform. I can't imagine how this film could possibly go unrecognized.

Did Nour Merheb Know Something We Don't?

I've been meaning to write a post this past week to share a few thoughts about freedom and our current state. I wanted to raise questions about whether we, as humans, can ever be really free? Do we, as a collective, really want to? And then, out of nowhere (obviously not for him), Nour Merheb, a Lebanese human rights activist kills himself. Last year, Nour had been sentenced by the Military Tribunal in Lebanon to three months in prison because he refused to pay a court-ordered fine in an assault case, in which he was the victim of a beating by an off-duty army soldier. His story in full and his struggle for justice can be found on his website.

Now it is extremely difficult to believe that there was no connection between his suicide and the sentence that he may, at some point, have had to serve. But the suicide note he left (via a video recording) leaves me a little baffled. Here are some excerpts:

Untold tales of courage: Confetti, hoover bags and a shrapnel

So here's Story 3 in the series of tales of courage by women during the Lebanese Civil War. You don't need to read Story 1 and Story 2 first but I've linked to them anyway. I am trying to collect as many as I can and so far it's been an intense experience. Here's the tale of Yola Sowan, in the summer of '82, during the Israeli invasion of Lebanon and later the siege of what was then called "West Beirut". The story took place in that part of the capital with the first shelling from the Israeli fleet. Yola didn't write the story, she relayed it to me in all its details. So this is me, telling you her story, in her voice, with her blessing:

Yes Madam, No Sir. Another classic from Lebanon.

Seriously. What the hell were MoneyGram thinking when they came up with these ads? Or is it just me and a few others who were insulted by them? But if that were true, then the voice overs of the "pilipino" and Shandra, who is only good at talking and knows it, would have been by an actual man from the Philippines and a Sri Lankan woman named Shandra. Not a Lebanese making fun of the two.

Oh and one more thing MoneyGram: It's not even funny.

MoneyGram Lebanon Summer Campaign Radio Spots:

Untold tales of courage: Najla's story

A few months ago, I attempted to start a series of posts about courageous women who lived some amazing stories during the Lebanese Civil War. I started with one about my friend's mom but then never pursued it. Until today. The story for this post is very special to me, because it was written by my own mother. After some digging, I found out, from her obviously, that she actually kept a diary of everything that happened to her during the war. I asked her which one stood out more than the others, and she gave me this piece during the Israeli invasion of Beirut, in July 1982. What's below is my own translation, under it is the original in Arabic (more or less). I hope you take the time to read it, because it truly is a story of almost mad heroism that I am proud to be at least genetically linked to. And I think that with the direction this country is headed, it's very appropriate to remember the war, because this really should not be an option ever again...

32 - الحياة في بيروت

لقد انتهيت للتو من قراءة كتاب "32" لسحر مندور التي كالعادة سحرتني بولعها برأس بيروت والحياة اللطيفة ولو المحدودة فيها وأحببت أن أشاطر هذا المقطع من الكتاب:

وبينما أسعى لوضع السماعتين في أذني، أنتبه إلى أعصابي تتراقص على حافة الانتفجار. لماذا، لماذا هذه المرة؟! أستقصي السبب وأكتشفه. سائق سيارة الأجرة يعاني من عادة تبدو أنها خارج قدرته على السيطرة: يطلق زموره كل 10 ثوانٍ، "بيب" واحدة، سريعة، رتيبة، تثقب فراغ الشارع. كما أنها تبقى على ثباتها في ظل تواجد المارة فيه، حتى ولو كان اتجاه سيرهم يأتي في غير اتجاه سيره، أو كانت معالم الرياضة الصباحية بادية عليهم، أو كانوا يترجلون للتو من سيارة خاصة، أو من سيارة أجرى أخرى، أو على دراجة نارية، أو يتفرجون على واجهة عرض تجارية، أو يهمون بالجلوس في مقهى، أو يفرحون للقاء بعضهم صدفة في الشارع، أو يسيرون بشكل عادي جداً، لا يهم، يطلق زموره، باستسلام تام لعادة يتعايش معها، بسكينة، وبغض النظر عن العالم الخارجي.

أنصح بهذا الكتاب كما أنصح بآخر جميل للكاتبة وهو "حب بيروتي"، فسحر تتكلم لغة المدينة وتعرف مشاكلها اليومية، التي تتعامل معها بالكثير من الفكاهة لأنها تدرك بأن العالم قد يكون كبيراً جداً لكن رأس بيروت تبقى الملاذ الأول والأخير، وكل من عاش فيها يعلم بالضبط ما يعني ذلك.

What we really need

A while back, my mom was planning a business trip to a certain Arab country but realized she didn't have sufficient time for the visa. Since my dad knew the ambassador, he decided to call and see if there was any way to issue the visa earlier. As soon as he started explaining the situation to him, the ambassador interrupted "Speak no more. I understand. You want to make sure her visa gets denied without implicating yourself. Consider it done!" Of course my dad then assured him that this wasn't the case at all and he had no problem with the fact that his wife, a PhD holder who owns a well known establishment for making educational toys and books for children and teaches at the American University of Beirut, travels on business.

Everyone wants a piece of the revolution

Before we get into this, I'd like to clarify two things:

1. I am fully aware that the situation we are in is most likely the result of years and years of bad government policies and opportunistic behaviour by a select few.
2. I am even more aware that I will probably never make an impact in the real world, because my ideals are too extreme and frustratingly impractical.

Fortunately for me, and maybe unfortunately for you, technology has given me this platform to let my voice be heard, if only by a small number of people. I know that a lot of us are still high on the domino effect of democracy that started with Mohamed Bouazizi's desperate act of giving up on his country. Yet, we are struggling to find our own path, some of us asking for reform, others for a secular government. I am not quite sure, however, if we are just riding the wave of revolution or if there is a genuine desire (I had argued in an earlier post that I don't believe there is a real need) for change. Are we certain that we don't just want the desire to change, instead of change itself?

Change in the Arab world, where do we fit in?

It feels like a historic moment and people have gone crazy trying to be a part of it. From Facebook, to Twitter to demonstrations outside embassies all over the world, we, as Arabs, are obviously craving something. But is it the same thing? I think that's a very important question we need to ask ourselves. I look around me and I see a revolution in Tunisia over an economic situation that has deteriorated beyond what the people can accept. Will change give them what they want? I don't know. Maybe. At least waste from corruption will decrease. What about Egypt? I hear statements like revolution of the "middle class poor", educated professionals who don't have a chance of a decent life because the system has become too corrupt to accommodate them. I can relate to that.

Untold tales of courage: A series?

A few posts ago, Loulia left a hilarious comment on what she dubbed "the most vocal, loud and intimidating" people on earth: post-menopausal Arab women. As soon as I stopped laughing, it occurred to me that Loulia was not joking. There are actually so many layers of truth to her statement that it got me thinking, "Who dares talk back to these women?" And it's not just the post-menopausal. I think this applies to many Arab women who could intimidate the living hell out of any adult male. Maybe it's because they have brought humans out of their bellies and know it. And they know that others know it.

Anyway this inspired me to attempt a series of posts - if I gather enough stamina and material to see it through - in recognition of some amazing feats of courage by women and mothers, who stood up to what they believed in, be it their families or causes, despite the extraordinary duress they were under: The Lebanese Civil War.

5 degrees of separation

I'm sure most of us have at one point stayed at a hotel in a Gulf country. The question is, did anyone ever take a look at the thermostat inside the room to check what temperature is set in there? Well I have and it's 17 bloody degrees! It's 45 outside. Do they really feel the need to take it down 28 whole degrees? Is 22 not bearable weather anymore? How can all of Europe, which is normally accustomed to a much colder climate, live with 22 but we can't? How do we justify those 5 degrees less? OK I'm not gonna ramble. I'll leave the hilarious Ed Byrne to make my point:

Now this post isn't about the Gulf; I think we can safely give up on those guys. It's about my recent experiences in Beirut and Amman, where the weather has been quite mild and pleasant (and I'm talking 24-26 degrees during the day!). But in most places I went to, the A/C was blasted on at Siberia levels. And when I complain to the waiter, they always say they will take care of it and just ignore me. I have to carry my jacket with me wherever I go. Now I don't get this. Last time I checked, we weren't exporting any fossil fuels. What we seem to be importing though is the fossil-fuel-exporting countries' bad habits of unjustifiable waste - simply to show off.

Can't we just enjoy the weather a bit, bask in some sun and never ever have to listen to a smart ass like Ed Byrne say how great his summer would have been in Beirut if it weren't for the penguins?