Last night I fell asleep with thoughts swirling through my mind. Before my head hit the pillow, I read a few more chapters from my latest book of interest,
Reading Lolita in Tehran. It is a part of the cultural widening in literature that I have experienced since I started raiding my room mate's book shelves. It is an intimate account of one woman's experience of the political and religious revolution in Iran.
I consider myself a person who is very mindful of what I am blessed with, but it is a slap in the face to imagine having to go through what she entails. The idea that someone can so completely force their beliefs on someone else, can lord over them, can make them utterly powerless is terrifying to me. Law and morality are not, and should not, be the same. A person's morality is integrally subjective, more reflective of their religious and ideological beliefs than justice or freedom or liberty. It scares me to think of the ease with which others can decide that they are more important or more intelligent or more "good" and therefore have to right to force their every triviality upon others. Where is the mechanism in a person that failed to trigger the "imagine what this feels like to them" response. Cannot we all live in peace alongside one another? Of course not is the answer that is most commonly echoed back. Not always in words, but certainly in actions.
It terrifies me to imagine being a woman who is forced to wear a veil as a symbol of a religion that is not her own. It not only demeans the women who are forced to wear them, but it demeans the efforts of anyone who would choose to wear them as a sign of their belief. No longer is it an outward sign of faith, but a insult meant to devalue and dehumanize women. And all for the effort of hiding strands of hair, which, were they to be visible to men, would surely distract them from their work and their religion. What sexually deviant creatures we women are, tempting the opposite sex with our sundries! I ask why should the women be punished because a man might not be able to control himself. Should not instead the man be taught to instead respect and accept the woman as a person, and not simply as a sex symbol to be robed and disrobed when the time suits? In reality, it is all a power play. And that is not the worst of the trials that this woman describes. Certain books are banned and burned, women are routinely whipped for their indiscretions, not allowed to fraternize with any man who is not their husband, brother or father, not allowed even the gesture of a simple pat on the back to a male colleague.
This last one bothers me quite a lot. Human beings crave contact. These long stretches of time away from my family and close friends highlight that need in me. My entire life, I have been with people I felt close enough to hug or tussle with, at the very least emphasize a gesture or reassurance with a simple platonic touch. I crave such contact these days and am ever mindful of the awkward distance that strangers enforce. I revel in someone's hand brushing against mine, in a co-worker standing close behind me to read my computer screen, and even in a person's close presence in the crowded confines of mass transit. Such small gestures seem to feed a hunger in me, a hunger to be acknowledged and accepted. There is nothing sexual or perverted about it, it is simply human nature to want to touch and be touched. To imply that a woman am not worthy of touching a man, that by a mere touch she were going to seduce him is absurd and insulting to both the man and the woman.
I had a nightmare last night that I awoke from feeling particularly disturbed. It involved a monster of the "I am Legend"-ish variety, being a sort of a mix of a zombie and vampire. They were called sleepers and they could only come out at night, shuffling along and following the scent of any living thing they could detect, which upon discovering said creature, they would hideously devour it. In my dream I am running through the darkness from the slowly growing hordes of this relentless enemy. Terrified, stumbling, unsure of how to fight back, I come upon a small tent in the middle of the forest. I dive inside the minuscule dome of fabric and zip up the entrance behind me, curling up into a tiny ball and attempting to avoid the sides of the tent with my body as I fall asleep. I know there is someone else in the tent with me, but I cannot feel them, I only know they take up most of the space, leaving me little room in which to maneuver myself. I can feel the sleepers pacing around the outside of the tent, seemingly unable to enter or rip through the thin cloth casing but on patrol for the slightest sign that their prey might emerge. Like a crawling sensation under my skin, they grope at the walls, hands sliding over me slick through the fabric covering. It takes all my control not to scream, not to vomit, not to bolt. I force myself to lay there and lose consciousness, hoping for the morning when they will be gone.
I imagine that perhaps that is what the author of my book felt like. Pursued relentlessly, forced into hiding within cloth confines, constantly feeling like more and more of her space, her rights were taken from her. She could fight back but would almost certainly be overwhelmed, likely killed. She describes how she had to imagine herself away, she was no longer there underneath her scarf and robes. Many, in refusing to give into the administration found that their only choice was to cocoon themselves into their apartments, force themselves into the tiny secure spaces they could muster, and wait for the sun to shine again.
The idea of being powerless to fight back against such injustices terrifies me. The idea that someone would so flagrantly devalue and disrespect women saddens me. And for some of you who might take this as a reason to attack Islam, please do not be so narrow minded. Islam as a religion is not the problem. A religion itself is never the problem. The problem is the power hungry, uncaring people who use the religion as a political agenda, warping its ideals to their favor and using that to oppress the people. Even in America, personal religious ideals seem to cloud politics to an alarming degree. That a legislation passed defining marriage in such a way as to exclude homosexual couples leaves me very troubled. Who are you to define my rights with your morality?!
Please, I accept everyone's right to believe what they do. I also accept and welcome people's right to try to convince me, to teach me, to convert me even. But do not, DO NOT, ever endeavor to force your beliefs upon me.
Here's to equality for women, freedom of religion, and death to zombies!
