Fighting without violence

Why, at every juncture, with such frequency, do I feel like being a woman is having to fight?

Whether it's against the bouncer in the bar, who tells me that he won't let my 3 male friends into a bar because they don’t want a “cock fest”. So I ask him if he would prefer a “tit fest”, and he says yes. I say that he’s being sexist, staring him straight in the eyes. He smiles; I don’t. He realises how serious I am, so he capitulates, “Yes, fine, your friends can come in. And by the way, I’m not sexist”, smiling again. Yeah, right.

Whether it's against a male acquaintance, a friend of a friend, who I have known for some years. He has always been fond of me, has manifested his attraction physically, and in a way that I have never been comfortable with, mostly because of the fact that for the vast majority of the time that I have known him, I have been in a long-term, stable relationship with another person. The friend is well, well aware of my boyfriend. So why does he still hit on me, does he still place his fingers on me invasively, does he profess to harbour a shallow love for me? Why does he not adhere to my articulated clear-cut boundaries of “friendship”? Sometimes, though, I am doubtful: where I am normally more forceful, in reaction to random guys who harass me in the street or bars, my rebuffs of him have always been mild. Yet, I thought, firm. They were not the venom that I reserve for random sleazes because he comes under the category “friend”. I suppose I was more tolerant of his advances, though undesired, because of a supposed friendship and respect. But the advances never stopped.

Whether it's against my own boyfriend, or “husband” as he is known to some (we feign marriage in order to legitimise our collocation in the eyes of the more conservative segments of society.) I told him that this guy, the supposed friend, who had been with us all night had been speaking to me and touching me in a way that made me uncomfortable, compromised. I told him this, not because I wanted to start trouble, not because I wanted to stoke tensions in our social group, but because I was disturbed. And I voiced my disturbance to the person I trust most: the man who I have spent the best part of five years with. Obviously my words, my vulnerability, did not resonate. My words spoke to him more about his own insecurities, his own pride, his own frustrations or regrets that sprung from not dealing with these repeated incidents coming from the same person, than my own well-being. I had sought comfort, while instead he sought to challenge those boundaries that had been crossed. He insisted that enough was enough, and he was going outside with the bloke “to talk about it”. I asked him not to, but perhaps was not forceful enough, as he did go out to “sort it out”. Five minutes later, he’s walking back into the bar with blood on his hands after having punched the guy in the face. Great, what a really mature, thoughtful, unselfish way of dealing with the situation, oh enlightened male partner of mine. I leave the bar overwhelmed in embarrassment, guilt and rage.

Whether it's against a faceless stranger who assaults me on a deserted flight of stairs as I try to escape all the stifling chauvinism that surrounded me that fateful Friday night. I see him descending the staircase behind me, him on the right and I on the left. About half-way down, out of the corner of my eye, I notice him moving in my direction. My immediate thought is that he is going into one of the entrances of the apartment buildings that line the staircase. But before I realise it, he is putting his arm around my head, his hand around my mouth, pressing his weight against me and pushing my body down towards the ground. Somewhere there is something sharp, maybe a key, and it scratches against my neck. His other hand yanks at my handbag. I scream with all my fucking might, scream. Screaming, over and over and over. As I scream, the thought flashes into my mind that I know, I know in all my time spent engaging in issues of violence against women, that screaming is the best way of deterring an aggressor. So I scream until it rips the back of my throat. And it works. I hear a window bang overhead, and he lets go of me and starts running back up the stairs, reaching the top just as a door at the side opens and a man steps out. I have stopped screaming, and I am caught between hysterical sobs and choked words of explanation. “Harami”, I manage to utter. “Thief”, as I enter the safety of a shard of light escaping from the open door.

Whether its against that very sleepy shop owner, that angel in disguise, without whose presence I dare not think what would have happened on that staircase. That kindly man who offers me water and tries to calm me down, but insists on saying “women should not walk alone at night.” But why? Why can't a woman effectuate a short 10-minute walk home in her own neighbourhood? Why are we made to be afraid?

All this occured, believe it or or not, within half and hour on a Friday night.

Now, the next day, I cannot wrap my head around the violence. The violence of prejudice, the violence of sexual objectification, the violence of uncontrolled jealousy and pride, the violence of harsh assault.

Why is there so much violence?

Why are women so often reduced to the sum of their physical parts?

Why are women used as an excuse for men to be violent towards one another?

Why do women have to be afraid to walk alone at night?

Why is there so, so much violence?

It is the fear of violence that oppresses us. Yet it is the anger about such violence that mobilises us.

Yes, I am left with a festering anger. I'm angry at the bouncer for his shameless exhibition and denial of sexism. I'm pissed off at my so-called “friend” for repeatedly groping me, disrespecting me. I'm angry at myself for not having been forceful enough. I'm furious at my boyfriend for his lack of self-control and punching someone in the face. I'm livid at the prowling assailant, whose footsteps and approaching silhouette will now haunt me when I walk alone in the dark.

The great challenge, I suppose, is to allow neither my anger nor my fear to push me to reproduce violence. The challenge, now, is for me to transform these negative, traumatic experiences, into a productive outlook, a proactive stance that will say: I will continue to fight. I will continue to express my dissatisfaction with sexism; I will continue to not let people touch me in a way that I am uncomfortable with; I will continue to combat violent solutions of problems; I will continue to scream when I am most threatened.

I will not let my fear, my anger, prevail. I will stuggle to not give into them, allow them to harness me, to inhibit me, to silence me. I will sum up all of my forces so that, at the end of it all, it is the anger and the fear that will give me strength to keep fighting. But to fight with my words, because I feel that is the only way to exhibit a strong, viable alternative to the violence that I have seen.

I am not my hair - pseudo-review

As I was running around the Internet and youtube, I stumbled upon a song for a certain India.Arie, the song is "I am not my hair" I had never heard of either the song or the singer.

The message is clear, she is not her hair, she is the person behind the appearances.
In theory we all agree that we are not our hair, we are not our appearances we are the humans within. A human being is a human being regardless of the color of the sink, the fair, the shape of the head, the waste and anything else related to appearances.
But what is interesting about this song (and the message behind it) is not the simple statement, it should be common knowledge. I agree that it's sadly not true when it comes to the actual life, but in theory everyone agrees we should be seen according to who we are not to the way we look.
But anyway, put that aside, what is interesting about this song, is the way the message is formulated. The singer is not arguing with the gossipy-gossip girls gossiping about the way she looks and the way her hair is done... No she is saying who she is!
So thumbs-up for Arie, you are not your hair, you are the person behind those appearances and judging from this first encounter, it's an awesome person behind.
Interesting fact #2: in the third paragraph, India mentions women struggling with cancer. And not surprisingly, this song became a symbol for women's struggle against cancer. With this paragraph Adrie certainly hits the right cord. A woman is so used to putting so much importance into appearances that when she loses a fundamental component to that beauty (such as a woman's crown aka her hair) she loses a lot, though she is fighting for her life she finds herself attacked with either disgust or pity, because she "lost her hair" when did hair become more important than life?

If you google the song you might find dedication made by women to women fighting cancer and those who have lost their hair if not their lives in this battle. India wrote this passage as a dedication to Melissa Etheridge (Female rock star, Lesbian activist, Environmentalist, survivor of cancer in 2007, mother of 4, blond... you pick the identity you want to label her with) inspired by the latter's triumphant performance during the Grammy awards where she appeared bald and alive.

Her performance brought tears to my eyes," Arie says. "At that moment in time, her performance was a juxtaposition of pain and beauty. It symbolized the beauty of strength

Interesting fact #3: check out the lyrics of "I am not my hair"... there's an adsense bar at the bottom of the page, I would bet you anything that it is an ad for cosmetics, non? You see, even if the singer is literally attacking shallowness and attachment to appearances, a robot like google ads would assume that the people reading this article would also be interesting in reading about products that help them cheat to improve the appearances.

Just thought like sharing :)

Dirty Hands

By Amani:
Yesterday was just another day for me. I woke up got dressed in my favorite sweatpants and t-shirt and headed out to open my store. I was going to be working alone without employees, so I wasn`t really looking forward to it. I got there and the day was quite slow. However, at around 5, the door opens and this guy comes in. He needed help in choosing an outfit for his girlfriend, something short and sexy, something that shows lots and lots of cleavage. That’s when he got his first black point from me, but I smiled and remembered that this is business and I had to put all my feminist feelings aside for the moment. Something kept bugging me about the guy though and I kept thinking maybe it’s just the outfit that he wanted for his gf. So I shook off all those feelings and kept helping. Finally he decides on 2 dresses and tells me to please put them on me so that he can see if they are good. Naturally I refused and turned around to tidy up. And then just when I’m not paying attention he pulls me to him hardly and grabs my breasts. I yelled out so loud and my neighbor came in running and pulled him off me and they hit him.

I sat and cried not just because I felt invaded because some creep forced himself on me. I cried because I felt that what I was experiencing was a drop in the sea of the experience of rape victims. I cried for every woman that was ever harassed by a look, a touch, or a grope. But mostly I cried for women that were the victim of rape, women that did nothing wrong to deserve such a punishment. Women that were raped just because some asshole long ago made it a general case that women were the weaker sex and thus made every slime on the face of earth think he can manhandle a woman.

Now I’m not crying anymore, and I’m not ashamed of what happened to me. I want everyone to know because this can happen to anyone of us anywhere and anytime. This did not break me, it just made me stronger. At first I felt I was dirty, but now I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Dirty hands touched me, and when they did they made me a hell of a lot stronger. Before yesterday I had a brain that thought about women and said they were not treated as humans. Now my blood runs with feminism and my brain calculates how best to use my bad experiences with men to empower women. DIRTY HANDS TOUCHED ME AND MADE ME STRONGER. DIRTY HANDS TOUCHED ME AND FUELED MY BLOOD WITH THE FEMINIST REVOLUTION.

Makhfar

April 24th was the commemoration of the Armenian genocide on the hands of the Ottoman empire. April 24th also marked 94 years of denial by the Turkish government that such a thing ever happened… and they called them casualties of war…

I go to work like any regular Tuesday. I log on Gmail and my friend, Lynn, gives me the link to an article in the press praising the Turkish cultural week. I do not understand, because two days ago was one of the harshest days in the year for me; two days ago, I was wallowing in transgenerational trauma and reading William Saroyan. I got angry and confused and after talking it over with my friends, I realized that Martyr’s day is in a week and it all made sense… How perfect to put a cultural event in the between these two events and diverge the minds and thoughts of everybody from Turkey’s past and its ongoing denials.

So Lynn tells me, let’s do something, let’s hold up a banner, peacefully. I agree with the idea; we tell our friend to create a page on facebook and we start calling up our friends and acquaintances.
At 7.30, we are around 17 people, we go to UNESCO , we walk in under the banner that says something along the way of Turkey, nation of peace. I laugh. Lynn had brought a camera, I take it. We start dispersing. Our friends, Ali and Sara, take the stairs and the rest follow and they drop the banner and my friends start going : “Hey up here!” So everyone looks up and I start taking photos, hysterically, because we know that the photos will mean the most, along with the banner.

A T.V. cameraman turned his lens upwards, I hear the security guy say : "check which T.V. that is and stop them.” A moukhabarat guy goes up and rips the banner, he starts yelling at Ali and Sara, tries to calm things down; they take us outside. In the meantime, we manage to give the camera to our friend and tell her to just leave with the photos, just in case they take it from us inside, she does.

We stick together and are eventually led to the Makhfar ( police station ). All 15 of us.
The faces of the officers were priceless, I guess seeing 14 girls and a guy in their twenties walking into the makhfar was not so regular, or was it?
Inside the Makhfar, they asked us for our IDs and some had left them in the car and had to call our friends to get them for us. To be very honest, what they ended up charging us with was walking around without identification which is quite hilarious and very George Orwell fiction-like.

Anyhow, they took those without IDs to another room, a room with a small television hanging in the corner. The officers were watching football. We sat there and a bit later, the channel was switched and names in Turkish alphabet started popping on the screen, we just looked at each other and smiled.

They thought we were all Armenian. We were, in some metaphorical way. I should have reminded them of the day Hrant Dink was murdered in Istanbul and the Turkish crowd gathered in the streets shouting : "We are all Armenians”. However, on paper, of the 15 people arrested, only 4 were Armenians. The officers didn’t like this much, they didn’t really understand why a bunch of our friends were with the cause. They kept asking us : "enno, you hate the turks, is that it?” We do not hate the turks, I do not hate turks, I hate any government or the power that denies others the right to live and oppresses them; I hate any government or power that chokes ideas and freedom ( Orhan Pamuk and Hrant Dink anyone? ), I hate any government of power whose basic value is denial of the pain and anguish it inflicted, I hate any government or power whose morals are to spread their culture by erasing other’s ( no need to let you know what is happening to the historical Armenian landmarks in eastern Anatolia ). I have nothing against the brainwashed masses, they are brainwashed, lobotomized and ashamed, one can only try to speak out and break the silence and the walls.

The head of UNESCO came to tell us how hurt he was, I snickered and Sarag, my friend told him, well my people have been hurting for 94 years and this is what you care about? A diplomatic affair? Before your fellow citizens?. We shamed them, they said. I wonder if he realized how much he shamed me as a citizen when he disrespected my culture, our dead, our memory.
We sat there waiting for the event to end so they’d release us. A phone call told us that people outside had gathered, around 200 of them, from parties and universities. They were not related to us, but knowing they were outside made us all the more proud and we felt strong. We called our friends to let them know we are inside, we changed facebook statuses. Nadine managed to update hers from within the police office. There was just something so powerful to be inside a room, with friends and colleagues and people who were there to support a cause you always deemed yours and that had suddenly become theirs as well.

They released us at around 11.40 p.m. we walked out from the same place we had walked in, in front of all the officers and the UNESCO main entrance. Some diplomats were still leaving. I was smiling.

We gathered at a friend’s house, got some beer, it was very emotional to say the least. My friend, Sarag , came up to me before leaving, she automatically realized what I was thinking about. We had discussed our identity so many times before. At the risk of sounding sappy, we hugged, we couldn't help but cry. It all made sense, made real sense. The banner, the arrest, our friends supporting our cause, the feminists supporting a human issue, it all made perfect sense.

The next morning my mom called to ask me if I heard about the protest, I said yeah, she told me : " your dad wished he was there." I replied, "mom I was there, it was our idea." She was shocked. She finally asked: "were you arrested? " I said yes. She laughed and told me she was proud. I thought of the police officer that kept nagging and wanting to be right about all of us being Armenian and IANs and I felt like saying, my mom isn't and what makes her special is that she gets it. She gets the cause, our cause, and like my friends, she views it as something beyond a specific race and ethnicity, as something fundamentally righteous, fundamentally human.

Shant

This article also appears in Menassat: http://community-en.menassat.com/profiles/blogs/personal-account-protesting

About Us, And Them.

I remember— back in ‘06, when a bunch of us were helping CRTDA gather signatures at AUB, in support of their Nationality campaign. A boy signed his name on the petition, then he asked me: would this mean that a woman would be able to give her Lebanese nationality to Syrians? And I said: yeah.

So he just scratched his name from that petition and walked away.

Strange how that ability, that power of women to determine who to give their nationality to, scares people. Like we have the power to change the entire demographics of this country. Like we can turn this country into a Palestinian state, into a sub-Syrian state.

Strange how racism works with sexism and with classism. Swayable, easily seducible, women can sleep with the “enemy.” Poor women, women of certain regions/sects, have lots and lots of babies, tipping the sectarian balance to “their” favour. Them. The Syrian workers. The Palestinian refugees. And then there are the migrant domestic workers. The women. The women of da7hyi and the South. The sexually active women. They’re all equally threatening. To the nation. To the middle class. To the family.

Sometimes I think that some men (particularly the very sexist ones) are more aware of our capabilities and potentials than we are ourselves. I don’t mean our abilities to change the distribution of the population in that racist/sectarian way, like that AUB boy was afraid of. I mean our ability to change things for the better. To introduce new ways of understanding things.

And that’s why we’re here. Because we see things differently, because we can see how things are wrong, from the little things that we have grown numb to, like the pressure on women to conform to impossible beauty standards, like street harassment, to more blunt things like how migrant workers are treated, how women can’t give their nationalities to their husbands and kids, how there are no laws against domestic violence and marital rape. And because we know we can/must change that.

That’s why we’re here.

What is Feminism?

So what happens when you give a Chantal a camera and permission to harass feminists with a simple question:

What is feminism?



Enjoy :)

So what was going on since we last posted here?

Actually a lot has been going on. And that is probably why we haven't updated the blog much. Anyway, to make my life easier, i will be posting separate updates throughout the day.

First things first, the results from the International Women's Day are finally out (Sarag had shared them with us more than a week ago so the actual publishing delay is my fault entirely). If anyone wishes to receive these results as PDF please do contact me and I would be pleased to send them to you by email

What is interesting is that the results are more consistent than what I thought they would be. Apparently, women are in general annoyed and frustrated by gender inequality in Lebanon. And that is in all of the areas that we interviewed women in.

Thanks to everyone who has helped us in this adventure :) !

if kids can do it then so can we - مؤازرة

بإختصار القصة وما فيا، كان في رجّال عم بيجرّب يخطف بنت زغيرة (سبع سنين) من مدرستا. فواحد من رفقاتا (ثمان سنين) بيهجم عليه وبيضل يلبّطو توقع المجرم

هيدا اللي لازم يعملوا النسوان! لازم نوقف سوا ونلبّط. يمكن الرا لوحدا ما بتقدر تربح مشكل مع رجّال (أنا بقول مبلى، بس إنو سلّمنا جدلاً إنو لأ) بس إذا إبن ثمان سنين وقّف عملية خطف فا أكيد أيّة مرا كمان قادرة توقّف ايّة جريمة. النسوان بهل مجتمع لازم يفهموا إنو كل مرة أنا بشوف مرا عم تنهان أو تتعنّف واجباتي إتصرّف. وإلا أنا بكون أنا كمان مشاركة بالجريمة

Sexual Harassment - The Frustration

I always knew I would end up working on street harassment, I just knew it. At times I felt it's too much work to do, that it's too big for me or even for civil society all together to work, at times I thought that the world is just waiting for my signal and that I will change the WORLD.
So I finally got my act together and started writing this plan, how to eradicate street harassment... right? And in my head it seemed like such a cool plan.
Now I after spending a very long weekend writing and fixing the plan I was only done with 50% of the first draft of the plan and then more time passed and I worked even more. I still had like 20% but I was stuck. So I thought I'd research what others have done and now I am not sure how to quantify that I have over with.
There were and there are lots of people working on street harassment, it's an agonizing job. The more I work the more I realize my work is so far from being complete. I never understood how can writing a plan take so much time, but now I understand. It's like the more you do the more you find out you need to do more.
I am not sure if I am supposed to be thrilled about that or frustrated. On one hand, harassment is very personal, very intimate, very complicated and each survivor has to go deep inside her/his being to find answers to harassment, its motives and its mechanisms. But at the same time, the woman's body has always been the battlefield of the most political/public war ever (and no, the use of "ever" is not exaggerated).
Society has to change, women have to change, men have to change, you have to change, I have to change, you and me have to change.
That's a lot of "changes" that need to take place, don't you think? And all this to stop sexually frustrated and blind mobs from scaring the shit of every penis-deprived person on earth.
Back to the plan I guess.

IWD - a round-up of resources

Today is Wednesday the 11th of March 2009. Three days after the memorable IWD 2009. The community is still very buzzed about it. Everytime two FC members meet they still talk about either the event itself or the reactions to it.

The staff and participants did a great job putting up resources (pictures, videos and articles). If you want to check pictures please check:

•  the FC website: Women's Day Sit-In


• But also the facebook pictures page. And if you have a facebook page take this chance to join the FC facebook page ;)

In the last two days our resident filmmaker Chantal edited a lot of short movies that she uploaded to the YouTube Channel that she created also. For now, we have four interesting videos:

• Solidarity with Migrant Workers' sit in:
  


• A man's opinion about women's rights:
  


• A compilation of the different teams' work in Beirut and beyond:
  


• And finally the Sit-in, which is not exactly IWD but the FC had participated in it also:
  
  
  Sit in against discrimination Sodeco Square Lebanon
  Uploaded by spookyprods

Now as for Press Coverage, the FC has been mentioned, so far, in:

• March 11, Daily Star: Sit-ins look to highlight gender discrimination


• March 8, Al-Safir: المجموعة النسوية تسأل وامرأة تجاوب


• March 8, Al-Mustakbal: النسوية تتابع حملة يوم المرأة: لسنا ضد الرجال بل ضد الذكورية


• March 8, Now Lebanon: A Woman's place?


• March 7, Al-Mustakbal: النسوية تخترق شوارع بيروت في يوم المرأة: لا للتمييز والعنف والقوانين الجائرة


• March 6, Daily Star: Feminists Take Aim at Male-Centered Politics


• March 5, Al-Akhbar: في يوم المرأة هيّا إلى الشارع

Solidarity With Domestic Migrant Workers in Lebanon - International Women's Day

Sunday was a day to remember, as we all walked proudly with our shirts, made especially for this occasion, in Hamra street and then on Corniche el Manara. People couldn't help but look at us since we were walking in groups of twos and threes, because maybe for some, we looked like a football team.

Yesterday was beyond amazing. At first, we had a sit-in for Foreign Workers in Lebanon and to me the cause was something that matters more than I show because these people don’t have any other resort in a country that is not theirs and they don’t have anyone to fall back on.

At 2:00 pm, all the Feminist Collective members headed towards Hamra, Al-Madina theater and it was overwhelming for all of us. I got there with couple friends of mine at exactly 2:30, got a banner from my friend and stood with every one.

Then I started looking around and I asked myself: where are the foreign workers? Where are the girls to whome this issue matters the most? I know it matters to us but this is the biggest cause in their lives.

The more I looked, the more I realized that this was like the upper class protesting for the lower class, or white people for people of color. I’m not saying there is something wrong with that but in a way it always looks like the upper society is feeling sorry for the lower, poor and unfortunate people and I never liked that.

30 minutes later, the foreign workers came and they seemed very shy and reluctant to come and be a part of it. Can you blame them? Really. Afterwards, everyone started to encourage them to come into the middle which was the right thing to do-- they should be the middle of the sit-in. But it was obvious how uncomfortable it was for them.

And when they finally felt a bit encouraged, the cameraman from a tv station started to harass them to get more footage and after they refused to stand more he reacted very violently; he took his camera, said to his assistance in the meanest tone ever: “ emshe ya 3ame sho mana netrajehon” and they took off…

After that it was time for us to leave for our own sit-in.

We live in a country where people criticize the West for being racist and abusive to non white people, and we live in a country where the color of the skin does not seem to be an issue because we don’t have black and white but we do have non-Lebanese people... We don’t really see that when it comes to racism we are still where the west was 50 years ago.

Lebanese people tend to think they’re better than anyone who is not Lebanese, European or American. They don’t see it and don’t notice it but it's out there, and I think it will take a lot of time for this to change.

Zainab Nasser

The Day Has Come

If you were given a penny for every woman being beaten up at home, you’d be rich. And this home we are talking about, where she comes every day to sleep, to cook, to do her second full time job, which is a mum or a wife, this home would be built on her economical and emotional contribution.

Women on Sunday the 8th of march would be celebrating IWD "International women’s day" and while some women in far some place are celebrating this day, others are being beaten up until they bleed at home, being raped in dark alleys. Posters and billboards objectifying women’s bodies are all over the roads from Jounieh to Beirut to somewhere else in Beirut, to Tripoli, to Saida, to Sour, everywhere in Lebanon.

To fathers that make there daughters get married to their rapists, for Honor, in what world is that fair? And what honor is that if I may ask? What is honor? Define it for me, and what definition allows another human to kill for it. Honor, honor was made for humans, what is honor next to death? Next to losing a daughter, a sister or a wife.

I still remember when I first discovered this awful fact, and I couldn’t believe it, by logic, if a guy shoots your daughter and stabbed her, would you make him marry her, to hide the shame. And what is shame really next to a lifetime scar and billions and trillions of psychological problems. So now let me get it right, why can’t every man who wants a woman and she didn’t say yes, rape her simply, and yah take her sister too, it’s a garage sale, rape one get one free.

Am not so fond of statistics but by logic I can say that our economy and it’s a new trend, is based on Botox and beauty products, loans for plastic surgery, little girls buying barbies, and tell me why barbies can’t stand on their feet? I’ll tell you why, because it’s a subconscious message for a little girl since she is 1 that she can’t stand up alone, she always needs a man to help her up,
but look at me, look at us, women, we go to a fulltime job, we come back home to the other full time job, we raise kids, we do stand up while we carry babies inside us, and we stand up for 9 month. We are actually standing up, ON OUR OWN. Fairytales are over, no prince charming anymore, there are women in the world and women can manage homes, and can run this freaking world, get over it.

Yesterday was the 8th of March 2009. A lot of women went down to the streets to ask other women what they think of woman’s rights, a lot said: “in my surrounding there is no violence. I am not concerned”. If you saw some of these women, please a message from me, tell her, wake up, not for you, not for me but for my nieces, for your daughters, for your sisters, and even your own mothers.

After Sunday the 8th of March 2009, for every woman I mentioned above, we went down to the streets to rebel, with signs and voices that cannot be shut down anymore. God know I’ve been waiting for this day, and the one after it, and after it. That day HAS come.

Maya

Migrant Domestic Workers Rights sit-in - What an FC had to say

It was 2:10 pm as me and Layal were approaching Masra7 Al Madina in my car and the big shock was the humongous number of people who were there.  We were surprised to see all these people we didn't even know standing there while holding very colorful and meaningful posters in their hands and raising them up. 

We stood with them and we started realizing that they weren't people we knew, they weren't from the feminist collective, yet we didn't feel lost since all of them were there for this specific cause which is defending the rights of foreign workers in Lebanon.  I was amazed by the different nationalities and gender of people attending the event. 

As more feminists came and joined us, we felt more excited and more enthusiastic about defending our rights as women. Personally, I was thrilled to participate! I got goose bumps as one foreign worker started talking to one television station about her suffering and about her boss treating her like she was a slave! 

It's about time we open our eyes and truly see what is happening in our society, no matter what gender we are, no matter what nationality we have, no matter what religion we believe in, we are all humans and we will continue fighting for our rights as humans. 

We're not gonna take it, we're not gonna take it, we're not gonna take it anymore! Today was the launching of our cause, we will not give up and we won't stop until every woman in Lebanon has all her rights, no matter how long it's going to take, we will fight for it because we simply are feminists!

Farah Jaafar

The end of the Second day

Ain el Mreisse. Yes the Feminists went to Ain el Mreisse! A spot reputed for the harassment taking place so intensively. But the feminists did one hell of a great job!

3an jad bravo everyone.

What funny/sad was that the girls got harassed exactly as they were talking about... harassment. Sara actually had to listen to some misogynist comments and sexist slurs as she was reading the Feminist Collective values.

Some random guy selling coffee on the street came specifically to us to tell us that women only fit in the kitchen, cooking riz bla7m, w tabboule w, w... And then he goes on to enumerate all the great meals that women can cook. And then at the end he also mentions the fact that they can also raise kids. Thank you Mister sexist! Thank you for telling me about all the terrific meals that we can cook.

Another random woman totally tricked us, she came to the sit-in saying this is very interesting and seemed very pro-women's rights. Then as soon as she has the flier in her hand starts wondering "what's the big deal?" then she goes on and on about how her life is awesome and that there is nothing to complain about. I mean of course, if she has her rights then I bet others don't matter do they? Another piece of wisdom that she kindly shared with us was the fact that if a woman is harassed verbally on the streets then she must've given that guy a queue, said something, winked at him... anything to allow him or invite him to harass her, then she turns to some random guy, that had been annoying all the girls and asks him: "if you didn't feel the girl wanted it would you "tlattesh 3laya"". And I don't really need to tell you what he said, we all know sex-predators' mentality, right?

Another interesting form of discrimination was one of gender expression, as a bunch of young men started harassing one of our members because she didn't really look like a "girl"... Interesting, non?

Now you may ask why we chose Corniche for the sit-in, why not some easier region? where people would just agree with us?

The answer is simple, Corniche is OUR Corniche. This was the perfect location, the girls were scared a bit, frustrated at times, but still they stood out for what is theirs, the street are ours and no one has the right to scare us, and we will not be intimidated.

And if you think that we just wasted our energy, then you are greatly mistaken. You just should have been there, as the Feminist Collective values were being said, some predators were just saying sexist stuff behind her, but behind the girls there were women GRINNING! These were not the women that came to us and told us about their stories, they were people who just didn't interact with us, they just sat in their corner but they listened to us and they were smiling. That was priceless!

In addition, there were a lot of women and men that came to us with a lot of positivity, some talked about custody rights, a lot about nationality rights, and so many others too.

We even recruited one tiny feminist into the group, her name is Rahaf and she is nine, as soon as the feminists spoke to her she got all excited and saying that she wants to defend women's rights, women don't have rights and she wants to change that! She sat with us, wanted a feminist shirt, held a Banner, she was just all over the place... Just ask yourself, how does she know she has no rights? Behind every baby-feminist there is certainly a feminist parent an overwhelmingly oppressive society.

Then when all was over and we had to go to the center, all the feminist got into someone cars and we headed to the house where we shared our thoughts, and now as I am writing this the girls are arguing... about villagers and wolves!

P.S.: Villagers and Wolves is actually a party game, so don't worry the Feminist Collective is not really arguing ;)

صبرا وشاتيلا : اهلا بكم الى عالم الفقر

صبرا

مشيت في شارع صبرا، رفيقاتي معي، كانت الرحلة التي قمنا بها الى صبرا وبعدها الى سوق الاحد ضرورية، فسوق صبرا التجاري من اكثر الاسواق شعبية واكتظاظا في بيروت. فهو السوق الذي يحبه ابناء الطبقة الفقيرة والمتوسطة في لبنان، بفئات نقدية قليلة تشتري ما يكفي. في الصبرا، تشعرين انك في فضاء اخر، فالمشاهد التي تنظرين اليها والاصوات التي تسمعينها قوية، نساء يشترين ويتحادثن ويتجادلن مع البائعين، الاطفال التي تبكي وتضحك، اصوات السيارات والموسيقى التي تأتي الى اذنيك من الجهات كلها، تضعك في مزاج اخر " اهلا بك في عالم الفقر." 

النساء تمر من امامنا وقربنا ولكهن سرعان ما يهربن عندما نتطلب منهن لحظة للتكلم معهن، ربما في صبرا النساء لا يملكن اللحظة هذه، فالبيت ينتظرهن والطبخة يجب ان تكون جاهزة قبل ان يأتي الزوج والاطفال، في صبرا تتردد النساء عن البوح برأيهن وتتفاجأ بالاسئلة، فنحن لا نبيع شيئا ونطلب شيئا، نريد فقط ان تسألهن ان " شو رأيك ب وضع المرأة؟". في صبرا ان النساء لا يملكن امتياز الرأي، الفقر لا يأتي بأمتيازات. 

شاتيلا

في شاتيلا، أنظرالى ازقة المخيم. انا من فلسطين واهل شاتيلا من فلسطين ، يبدو لي وكأنهم من فلسطين اخرى! ماذا عن النساء في المخيم، ما رأيهن في " وضع المرأة؟". لم نلتقي بنساء يميشن في الازقة، التقينا بإمرأة كبيرة السن ولدت في فلسطين، كانت تقف تنتظر شيئا ما، سألنها عن احوالها، اصرت ان الزمن الماضي كان اجمل، واحد وستون سنة من إنتظار العودة قد يجعلون المرء متشائما! احسست اني من فلسطين اخرى، لأنني ارفض ان ارى الفقر والتعتير والكارثة التي يعيشها الفلسطينيون في لبنان وبالتحديد النساء، فهم سجينات هذا المخيّم.

كونكلوجين:

يجب علينا كنسويات ان نعير اهتماما خاصا للنساء القاطنات في الامكان الشعبية والامكان التي ما زالت تعتقد ان النساء "ناقصات عقل ودين". 

يجب ان نتطور لغة وادوات للوصول اليهن دون ان تقوم بتدمير حياتهن. 

يجب علينا ان تضع كل ما نعرفه عن النسوية على جنب، ونذهب الى الشارع والى البيوت ونسمع حكايات النساء على الصمود وعن الحيّل التي يطورن للحصول على مساحة خاصة بهم، ان نتعلم منهم عن حياتهم، فنحن اذا اعتبرنا اننا في معركة، يجب ان نعتبر ان النساء الفقيرات هم في الصفصوف الامامية من جبهتنا المفترضة، فأكثر الضحايا والاصابات التي تقع، تقع في صفوفهن. 

في رحلة صبرا وشاتيلا تعلمت شيئا واحدا اساسيا، ان الفقر هو اقسى انواع العنف، انه سواء كنا فلسطنيات ام لبنانيات او اثيوبيات اننا واحد في الجوهر. اننا في توحدنا نعيد انتاج علاقات سليمة في مجتمعنا. فلا فرق بين مرأة ومرأة الا بدرجة نوع القمع.

Celebrating Women's Day in Manchester

Ahoy from Manchester,

Happy Women's day to all you WOMEN and FEMINISTS.

I hope all is going well on the streets.

Over here in Manchester, I decided to celebrate IWD my own way.

Yesterday, I went to the Impertial War Museum to see an exhibition called 

Women's War Art, which focuses on the experiences of women war artists from the First World War to the FIrst Gulf War. BEAUTIFUL stuff!

After I finished that, me and my friends went to check out the central exhibition in the museum which showcases pieces reflecting on how war shapes our lives. In one of the corners, there was an action station which invites visitors to reflect on symbols seeing how important they have become in our lives and how different ones represent different things to different many people. They had tiles for visitors to make their own symbol. This is what I made.

Again, happy women's day to you all! See you in a couple days.

Joelle

IWD - So the feminists are sweating they are tired but they are still excited

So again, another round-up. Apparently, the more interesting specimens are on the street now, the feminist are starting to get a real taste of what awaits us in the future.

The Bliss team had to deal with people that were totally convinced that women's situation is "great" others were complaining that women are about to take over and rule men" and misk l khitem: "inno 3ade l tiltish".

The Hamra team had to listen to people telling her that "our situation in Lebanon is still better than in other places" and when the team asked about violence someone had the guts to say: "well women and men have to compromise"... ah yes violence is now part of compromise!

In Mar Elias some women had the courage to talk and they talked a lot! Others didn't escape censorship, or sometimes just the urge to go shopping!

The Sessine team is facing resistance, mainly men insisting that women in fact DO have all their rights... what other rights do they want anyway?

In Chiyah, some people are talking, some have very interesting things to say (I don't have the details right now but I'll keep you updated) others are reluctant to talk, but it's going smoothly.

An interesting incident took place in Zalka where the team approached an Ethiopian woman to talk to her so her boss allowed himself to answer on her behalf: "We are too busy" and walked away.

The Sabra video team stopped by before they went to Sou2 l A7ad... They have a lot of interesting stories to tell, but I won't ruin the surprise you'll all have to wait till the movie is out.

See you all in a bit

IWD - It's getting spicy

Ok, so now I had less time to ask people what the women were saying but we did get an interesting overview.

Apparently the Mar Sabra team is now in place and they made an "interesting interview" with one man. What is that supposed to mean? I don't know Mohammad didn't give me anymore details, we'll have to wait till Chantal edits everything.

Another interesting phenomenon is the amount of men that are "deciding" for women. When the feminists are asking the woman for her opinion the guy with her would just answer with a rude "No" and walk away. We will always wonder what these women had to say.

The Hamra team reported that some people actually consider the woman's situation in Lebanon to be "ok" (I wonder what Lebanon they are living in?). Another interested reaction was someone saying that he doesn't "believe in women's rights". I'm sure that was very interesting conversation.

The Bliss team seems to be still having a good time, a lot of people are interested in tomorrow's gathering. And apparently all teams are running out of fliers... oops I guess it's because our fliers rock!

The Kaslik team has just finished Kaslik and moved to Zalka. The Chiyah team just arrived to Beirut Mall and is looking for people to interact with.

So appologies for being 25min late in reporting, but what can I say... It's boiling in Lebanon! Meet you in a less than 60min this time ;)

12:00am IWD - So what's up with the Feminists in Lebanon this year?

Ok the heat is building up as people are heading to their work, or favorite caffee/restaurant, or going shopping. Different people are saying different things and here's a quick preview of some of the ideas expressed:

1. The Man has to remain slightly dominant, because he is the man and because the woman has femininity
   Bliss



2. Inno l enoon ça va, mish 3atel
   ma fi 2weneen ti7me l mara, l wad3 bil marra
   Sessine



3. Lezem l mara t7afez 3ala ounousita
   Kaslik



4. @#$#@@ l 2enoon! (yes we censored the curse words ;)
   but young people were just too busy running for their routine (or maybe they were just too shy to talk)
   Hamra



5. L wade3 #@%$#
   But our team in Mar Elias felt a bit disappointed that out of every 10 people they approach only one would be interested to talk about an issue that is so important.
   Mar Elias

What is also interesting is that the Hamra Team was approached by the MFS who seemed quite interested in our perspective.

And the Camera people are also taking as much footage as possible, the editing corner is ready and waiting for all those rushes to arrive. Nadine and Chantal are running around like busy bees, Nadine's phone is always busy with people and newspapers asking her: So what's up with the feminists this year?

In our next nashra we will have more areas, as the Sabra team will be in place as well as the Burj Hammoud team.

So stay tuned, we'll be reporting again in exactly 60min.

Tomorrow the streets!

So the girls (and boys) were all here, with less than 12h left before the start of the street take-over, the Feminist Collective is in the office, the girls (and boys) are painting banners, some are trying their brand new feminist shirts, some were trying to stencil on their shirts, others were discussing and debating what should be said and what should not be said, a lot of new faces showed up.
To make a long story short... it was great. The best part I guess was when we brainstorming about slogans to write on our banners.
And just to tease all those who just weren't here, here are some more pictures:


And stay tuned tomorrow we will be live blogging and updating you on how the girls are going and what the women are saying.