الأحد، 28 أكتوبر 2018

How to Love an Arab in 2018

"Here is the medicine: That though the heart is breaking, happiness can exist in a moment, also."
- Alice Walker, in the Foreword to Zora Neale Hurston’s Baracoon

Before Jamal Khashoggi's death, before Saudi's involvement with Lebanon's politics and Nasrallah's threat of retaliation, before the surge of #MeToo news alerts, I was in love with an Arab student from Jizan. It happened during one of my first weeks in New England. I already felt like I didn't belong here. His attention and love was one comforting aspect of my otherwise dreary life. We had a brief moment of political solidarity when we drove to his apartment one night. He said that Saudi students rarely used their opportunity in the US to make money on the side, even though there are plenty of other students on F1 visas who work within the gray area. He said that this was also common among Chinese students he knew, and he surmised that it was probably because both governments were very strict and created law-abiding cultures in China and Saudi Arabia. I was envigorated by this observation of love and appreciated this rather somber connection with him.

Soon our differences emerged, particularly on the question of Saudi's involvement with Lebanon's politics, Saudi's disproportionate war with Yemen, as well as our interpretations of Islamic culture. I wrote about this in another earlier post titled Solidarity, Dissimulation, and Making Space. He did not wish to continue to talk with me after a fallout in regards to our differences. Sometimes I would still check his social media. He was home for the summer and once visited the tomb of one former caliph in the desert. It was quite an interesting homecoming for a diasporic Muslim whose identity shifted through time and space.

In wake of Khashoggi's death, I am sure he and I would have differences in our political analysis of the events. But making sense of events "abroad" and away from "home" is always a complicated affair. Especially when the English news media often promotes certain kinds of narratives over others. I was especially moved by the detail that Khashoggi was living in Turkey, which is often viewed by minorities in certain parts of the Arab world as a relatively neutral ground vis-a-vis the "West." Given the Turkish state's incompetency in stopping the Saudi bodyguard from moving Khashoggi's body onto a private plane in Istanbul, the tragedy made me think more about my understandings of Turkey, much more so than Saudi Arabia. I am affected by this tragedy in the way that I also believe in similar values as Jamal Khashoggi and I too wish a better future for Saudi Arabi and the Gulf. While I never knew about his work prior to his gruesome death, I am further connected on a second level to this story--I started as a journalist from the non-West, and often have to struggle against totalizing narratives of the lack of free speech in China. The more I reflect on the matters of the world, the more complex "free speech" becomes. Yet those who do not recognize the complexity often reduce the subjectivities of non-Westerners to either a pro-liberal or anti-liberal. I recognize the humanity of Saudis as well as anyone residing in the Gulf. They inhabit a fertile ground for creativity, and will continue to connect with one another and re-imagine a future beyond what the powerful have dictated for them. I believe in them as I believe in my own potential.

Here are some insighful thoughts on the Khashoggi tragedy I read from Twitter--



My thoughts are with the millions of young Saudis for whom Jamal Khashoggi wished a better future and who may be wondering what lies in store for their country, my thoughts are with the millions of Iranians, Syrians, Egyptians... all the people of this region. We deserve better.

The Khashgoggi story has a human element that is disturbing and macabre. However it points and illustrates a wider point about Saudi society and culture. I've lived in the Kingdom for many years - not that makes me an authority by any stretch of the imagination》》1:41 AM - 22 Oct 2018
Saudi society and culture in Riyadh is deeply toxic. Anecdotally people will say that the people of the Eastern province and Jeddah are hospitable kind and more open but Riyadh is a different story altogether. Going beyond the govt. Saudi society is hopelessly dysfunctional
More... To throw the Salafi school under the bus for the hopeless state of Saudi society is unfair. The problem is inextricably linked to wealth and the corrosive effects of it on a society that merely a few decades ago was a Bedouin backwater
Muslims in the West have known this for many years. There are bigger, wiser and better people who can point to the mortal danger the Saudis and their allies pose. Our options are simple but difficult to implement - we require financial independence and autonomy

-----------------------------------------------


Source: https://www.thevintagearab.com/post/179330775839


During this year I have also reflected on previous notions of feminine identity. I have had tense relations with many female relatives in my earlier life. I have gradually learned to stop fighting and love women in a different way. While following various people from the Gulf on social media, I realized that when men are the public faces of a community, one learns to see and feel attached to their female relatives regardless of whether or not meeting their relatives in person. Because kinship does not necessarily entail social contact. There are many ways to express and receive love beyond becoming in contact. Affection and care received by men--the public face--can be connected and transferred to the womenfolk through ways other than language or images. Even though it is assumed that everyone who can access internet would create a social media account, these gendered silences are also important for me personally as I grow into my public persona of an academic.

Being part of the diaspora in the U.S., one gains a certain distance from the usual sectarian logics. There can be space for dialogue if one can see how justice is impossible without love. While there is disproportionate amount of violence in the news, I hope for the possibility for reconciliation. Within this context, I also want to share the news with my readers that I am engaged to my future husband, Walid Anbar. We both believe in the values of interfaith dialogue, love, and understanding. Insha'allah we will be part of this ongoing process of creating such spaces in the U.S.