Monday, February 13, 2017

At last; I swam in the gender-segregated city of my childhood, Jeddah!


Growing up as a woman in Saudi Arabia means you are only allowed to watch father, brothers, cousins and even your own baby boy making waves and diving in the red sea, while you bitterly staring at them, swathed in full-length black cloaks (abaya), paired with hijab (headscarf) and niqab (which leaves a slit for the eyes).
Segregation rules the kingdom; banks have “ladies branches”, restaurants are divided into “family section” and men-only areas, education is single-sex from nursery through to doctorates.
The Kingdom could not strike the sea with Moses' stick to make male and female sea entries and thus boys/men are the only ones to swim in public beaches.



Thursday, February 9, 2017

In times of war, I plead not guilty for being Yemeni-Saudi!

The Saudi war in Yemen forced me to deal with an onerous task; re-defining my identity in times of war. I was born a Yemeni but grew up in the bride of the red sea; the city of Jeddah. The question of identity emerged from a crucible of war and I had to grapple with it for the last two-year of the conflict.

For years, I have been struggling with my identity. Am I a Yemeni or a Saudi?

As a post-gulf war Yemeni child growing up in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, I lived with fear injections; fearing to be denied schooling, fearing to be deported, fearing to be jailed if I say anything displeases the royalists and the religious clerics.  I was born as a Yemeni from Ibb-Adan, but I grew up in the bride of the red sea; the city of Jeddah. I went to Saudi public schools. I know how to speak Hijazi slangs, and sing local songs. I cheered always for the “Ittihad”, the local football team and I could always crack the best Saudi dirty jokes.
In fact, I learned the Saudi national song along before the Yemeni one. Nevertheless, none of that was adequate to let me belong to the beloved city.

During my life in the Kingdom, I encountered racist comments, in state offices, across public hospitals and even from teachers at schools. I often heard awful comments along the line of “a foreigner” and “an oil sucker”.

I was 13-year-old when I was playing in the classroom with my girlfriends. The geography teacher went mad and pointed at me shouting: “You stranger, You better behave”. Tears fell down my face. I felt a pain in my chest, a pain that is still in place and aching. In that very moment, I recall, deciding to be a Yemeni!

I renounced my Saudi side. I sought to construct my Yemeni identity; I learned to speak as a Yemeni, I coloured my Saudi accent by Yemeni words, I learned the history of the country and its politics. I wrote my thesis about Yemen; I established an NGO about Yemen and started the journey of planting Yemeni into my heart.

In 2015, the Saudi aerial bombardment in Yemen started; announcing a war against my country by the country of the upbringing. This brutal war sent me into shock waves, I was assailed from all sides; by Yemeni and Saudi friends alike and I had to handle a barrage of questions related to my identity. At times things seem hazy to me, sometimes I wished if I could hide under my skin to avoid the interrogation by Yemeni and Saudi friends, who were questioning me with jingoism, and feeding doubts about my genuine stance. In the eye of a Yemeni, I am a traitor and of a Saudi, a potential fifth column.

Amid the din of the war, I bent on rewriting my true identity. I decided to come to terms with my “Jeddawi” identity. Today, I plead not guilty for being Yemeni-Saudi. I am a Yemeni from Jeddah and against all wars!