Perceptions

It was one particular afternoon after our drill class ended that I began pitching going to Jordan as an option. It made me sad that the two sophomores who showed interest in pursuing Arabic were not considering Jordan as option.

But it was an offhanded comment a girl in the class that truly stopped me in my tracks. She said that she was unsure of her choice of studying abroad, and I asked why she was hesitant about Jordan and she answered that she was not sure that she was “comfortable with giving away her freedoms.”

This bothered me like no other. I guess it might have been the anthropology classes that I have taken, or this hyperawareness regarding the portrayal of middle eastern women as oppressed that switched a trigger inside me. Holding my frustration back, I warned her about the problem of phrasing her thoughts about the middle east so matter-of-factly. It bothered me because through this phrasing: she encapsulated her thoughts about the middle east: that it was an oppressive place for women.

I stepped back and realized that when they think of the middle east, they do not think of its bustling cities crawling with street vendors, or the mayhem of a taxi ride blasting Arab rap. They do not think of the rich clouds of hookah smoke pouring out of cafes into the adjacent streets, nor do they see the unending construction occurring. No. They see an archaic view of unpaved streets, a society that oppresses women by making them cover -which in this context I’m taking them as thinking that we had to wear an abaya. They envision the antithesis to the west and disregard anything remotely resembling a civilization.

It’s not their fault. The perpetuation of the middle east through our media outlets have become so narrowed. They are not exposed to the charming way the square buildings seem to jut out of the ground, nor are they completely swept away by the melodies of the calls to prayer. They would not know the feeling of biting into a fresh falafel sandwich, or how captivating the smell of shwerma is. The potency of that diabetes-inducing tea is watered down by the news of refugees, and politics. What makes me sad is that the everyday life in Jordan is drowned out by the bombings, terrorism, and politics of the region. This vague understanding that the middle east is oppressive hurts me. But the times that the tone of voice changes, just a slight pitch when I tell acquaintances or friends where I studied abroad. I find their hesitation suffocating. I struggle to swim against the current of mainstream media that portray this lovely town of Shmeisani, into a desolate place of extreme sharia law. I had grown insensitive to the string of questions that follow like, “did you cover your head,” or “it must have been difficult as a woman.” Yes. It was difficult, it was challenging, and sometimes it was frustrating. But it was amazing, it left me breathless, and completely alive.