Creative Writing - Biography

My earliest memories are of me sitting on the floor cross legged in front of the TV watching old episodes of "Leave it to Beaver" and eating cheese and crackers. You see, I was born in Charlotte, North Carolina. That was my home for the first seven years of my life. In 1983 my parents, who are Egyptian, decided to move us all back to Cairo, Egypt. Needless to say, the little seven year old me was in for quite of a shock.

Before I proceed it is important to understand the nature of Egyptian parents, most importantly the Egyptian mother. Egyptian mothers are the grand pharaohs of a household. Their commands are to be obeyed without argument or even an attempt to understand their rational. This demand of obedience is not solely driven by the Egyptian Mother's dictatorship, no, but by the fact that all Egyptian mothers are always right and more knowledgeable about everything concerning their children. In the spring of 1983, my sister and I were told, by our Egyptian mother, that we are going to move to Cairo where we will live for the rest of our lives. Our opinion on the matter was never sought nor considered in our parents decision.

Upon arriving to Cairo, my only form of protest to this abrupt exile was to give everyone the silent treatment. I would sit in the corner and refuse to talk. I supposed people assumed I couldn't understand Arabic, but that wasn't true. I understood Arabic very well, although my conversational skills were not that good. I spent the summer of '83 in utter silence, speaking to my only friend Amany, my older sister.

Unfortunately my silence didn't pay off. We have moved to Cairo and we were there to stay. Over the years, I had surrender to my fate, but try as I may I could never fit in with the Egyptian culture. I was always labeled odd or weird. As a teenager, this bothered me, so I tried my best to assimilate to other young Egyptians. This was an unsuccessful endeavor. I didn't like Egyptian pop-culture. I thought the movies were pointless, actors were not handsome, and songs were silly. Finally, while in college I was able to embrace the fact that I am different from everyone else around me. I didn't show that different side of me in public, only a few close friends and my sister got to see the real me.

Not conforming to the Egyptian Culture has helped throughout my career. People would assume that I was educated abroad and thus have a better understanding of my profession than my Egyptian counterparts (another fascinating aspect of the Egyptian mindset, what we call the Foreigner Complex - valuing the skills of foreign professionals more than local ones). I was able to push the envelop and defy people's notion of how things are done. I was also constantly criticized for being out of touch with reality and too inflexible. I was often told that my way is not how things are done in Egypt and I have to allow more flexibility. I preserved and people came around, eventually.

On my 30th birthday I had a break through, I like to call it my mid-life crisis. I went through a long and emotional phase of self re-discovery and self appreciation. I experienced a magnitude of emotions, but most importantly I stopped caring about other people's opinions of me. I am who I am, and yes, I like who I am. I'm not everyone's cup of tea and a lot of people are not going to like me. Very few people will see me for who I am. The moment I stopped caring about what other people thought, I was able to allow the true me to come forward for all to see. It has been seven years since my mid-life crisis. Everyday, as I let my self be what it is, I discover new things about me. Somethings I like, others I don't. However, by being true to my self I am able to evolve as a human being.

Gotta Be Somebody

There's on old lady I often see riding the train. She has short gray hair and wears amusing winter caps, I guess that's why I noticed her in the first place. Sometimes I see her on the train, other times I see her on the platform. We walk along the same path from the station. I suppose we live on the same street, only she turns left and I turn right. Sometimes I see her walking around town. She is always alone, with a somber expression on her face. 

Tonight, while picking up dinner from the corner diner, I saw her sitting at a table by the door. She was eating dinner and reading a book. She was sitting there with her short gray hair and knitted cardigan, as always, all alone. As I looked at her I realized that she's me in 30 years. That will be me sitting there at the table by the door, eating dinner and reading a book, all alone. My eyes teared up as I exited on my way home. 

I don't want to be the lonely old lady, but I don't know what to do about it. I can deal with solitude for short durations. But the idea that this is it, forever; and forever is God knows how long, pushed my over the edge. Sure, I can cry and feel sorry for myself. That is all I can really do about it, but I wasn't in the mood for a sad mood that night. I ate my dinner in bed, as always, all alone. Then I went to you tube to look up a music video that would better express how I was feeling. I like to live my life vicariously through songs, movies, and books. I turned on the video, got up out of bed and lip synched my heart out. As always, I was all alone smiling and playing the air guitar, knowing that there's gotta be somebody for me out there.  

As the lights went out

As the power goes out and you are sitting all alone in the dark, your heart halts while you stare into the abyss.  It’s all been said before. We are afraid of the dark because we don’t know what to expect and thus cannot gauge our reactions.  It is often used as a metaphor to dealing with change. We’ll always reach for the light switch while entering a dark room because we don’t like to face the unknown. Yet, as your eyes adjust to the darkness and you start to make out the image of furniture, you feel a bit courageous and decide to venture from your firmly established position in search of a flashlight or candle. Nevertheless, you embark on your journey with caution, slowly extending each leg forward in a steady stride in an effort to avoid walking into a wall and reaching out with your hands to guide you along the darkness.

As you are sitting, again by yourself, in the romantic glow of pseudo-light, you’re very alert to every sound and movement. You occasionally call out “Who’s there?”, although you are all alone.  Time creeps by, as you constantly check your watch only to discover that minutes, nay seconds, have passed.  You loudly sigh as you confusingly try to think of things to do on your own in the dark. 

Finally, you surrender to the black solitude as you lay on the floor gazing out of the window at the shining stars, mesmerized by the tranquility and quietness. As you lose all hope of the power returning and blow out the candle to fall asleep, all the lights in your home ignite. You jump up with much vitality, simultaneously reaching for the TV remote control and your smart phone with both hands. You return to your plugged life, offsetting any recognition of the fear that loomed upon you as the lights went out.

What's in a name?

What' in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet

Why do we assign names to babies? If their only purpose is to identify individuals, then why not go by a unique codes, such as a social security number? Why do parents , and their proxies, spend frivolous days after days after days obsessing about a name by which they will call their unborn child? What is so important about a name ?  Will calling a boy Atress dispel him with courage and bravado? Will calling a girl Amira make her royal, regal, or graceful ? As apparent from my later example, a name will neither give to nor take from a human's characteristics, value, or wealth. So, why the obsession with names ? I purpose calling newborns  Baby-Badawey-One or Baby-Badawey-Two. By the time they turn sixteen and they need to get some form of ID, they can select their own names, something that will reflect who they are or who they want to be. At least then, there will be something about a name.

How much would you pay for "Hope in a Jar"

Last weekend, during a trip to NYC, I popped into Macy's to see if they have stocked winter gloves. As I had entered through 8th Avenue, I had to walk across most of the store's lower level in order to get to Women's Accessories. I must admit that I am always overwhelmed and intimidated by Macy's flagship store in NYC. The first time I went there was during the holiday season. It was so crowded, that a bit of claustrophobia kicked in while on the escalator. This time around, although less crowded, it was crowded nonetheless. Anyway, I maneuvered my way across the people infested corridors until I reached the accessories section, only to discover that there were no winter gloves on display. Disappointed with the 30 minutes it took me to walk across the store, I headed towards the 8th Avenue exist. On my way back, I came across Philosophy's display in the cosmetics department. Feeling a bit down with melancholy, I opted for a little retail therapy. I bought some facial cream called "Hope in a Jar".

I always get very sad while in NYC. For some odd reason, I don't know why, I get home sick and start thinking about my family back home in Egypt. Needless to say, the train ride from NYC is a very sombre one. It doesn't help when the weather is cold, dark, and gloomy (which is to say, most year round in New York). My train ride this weekend was no different. I dwelled on my loneliness and all the things I was missing. I was even humming Ricky Martin and Christina Arguilera "No Body Wants to be Lonely". Then I got to thinking about my purchase. In an attempt of momentary happiness, I bought "Hope in a Jar". The real reasons I bought "Hope in a Jar" is to combat wrinkles, yet I couldn't help but think of the irony of this emotional purchase. I was at Macy's largest shop, smack in the middle of their cosmetics department with a cornucopia of global brands, surrounded by retinol this and retinol that, organic natural ingredients, semi-professional cleansing and restoring products, yet I went for "Hope in a Jar"!

Now, I am not dissing the product, it was one of Oprah's favorite things (and thus why I am aware of its existence). However, what struck me as ironic is, at a time when I was feeling despair and at my most worst, I bought "HOPE !!!! in a Jar". Grant you this is facial cream, and the hope it is peddling is the return of youth. Nevertheless, wouldn't it be great if you could buy a little bit of hope when your life seems hopeless, a little bit of faith when you feel that you are losing your way, or a little bit of encouragement when you just can't go on. Wouldn't those be the greatest products of all time. Who among us wouldn't pay good money for a little bit of hope, faith, love, self-esteem, and courage.

The mere thought of the possibility to buy the emotional support I needed that day lightened my mood. I realized that such emotions can be found - for free - in the simplest of things. I realized that hope is all around for those who seek it. It's in a friend's hug. It's in the single ray of sunshine that escapes through the clouds. It's in a little white jar of cream that puts a smile on my face whenever I use it because it reminds me of the time I wished I could buy HOPE in a jar.

Why I choose to be Muhajaba (wear a veil)

As a child, I never thought much about hejab. My mother started wearing it in her 40s. All the elderly woman in the family and my aunts were already muhajabat. My older cousins started wearing a veil after graduating from college and getting engaged. I guess, I thought that it is something muslim women do when they get older - we cover our arms, legs and head. I never asked nor wondered why. For me, it was enough to know that it is part of our religion. I never had the need to inquire beyond that. Then, when I was 13 , during the summer between 6th and 7th grade, my best friend called me one day. She was in an absolute frenzy. Her father demanded that she starts wearing a veil, and she was calling to complain about how unfair he was being. This went on all summer. Her father insisting that she either wears a veil or stay home, then she'd call me to complain about the whole situation. Finally, towards the end of summer, she gave in and agreed to become muhajaba. To celebrate this momentous occasion (and most probably sweeten the situation) my friend's mother took her shopping for  an entire new wardrobe and scarves.  This was the first time that I realized that wearing a veil is something muslim women do once they come of age.

Upon realizing this, my natural reaction was to declare that I too shall start wearing a veil. However, my mother tenaciously refused. She assumed that I was either jealous of my friends new clothes, and thus wanted to wear hejab in hopes that I will get a new wardrobe, or my friend convinced me to wear a veil, so she wouldn't be the only one covered up in class. Neither reason was correct. To me, wearing a veil is part of who I am as a muslim women, just like praying and fasting. Yet, my mother was adamant. She told me that I was too immature to make such a decision at 13. She believed that when I go to high school or college, I'd be tempted to wear the latest designs and long to go to the hairdresser and show off my locks! She believed that I would come to regret wearing a veil, and opt to take it off. Something she would never allow. Little did she know that I would (and will) never fall prey to fashion, vanity, or peer pressure, Little did she know that when I got older she'd have as much control over me as she does of the weather. Nevertheless, she won this round. My friend wasn't the only one wearing a veil in class. Several other girls started wearing hijab that year. I remember them being excited about it. None of them thought twice about the vanity of showing off skin or hair. A few years went by and I approached my mother about wearing a veil. She still stood by her belief that I was too immature to make such a decision at such a young age. Obviously, my mother didn't know me that well.

On April 4th 1994, I was a senior in high school. It was a Saturday and I was getting ready to go to a biology tutor lesson. For some odd reason, I don't know why, I woke up that day, went to mother and said that I will start wearing a veil. She just looked up from her morning cup of coffee, shrugged her shoulders and said "Okay". Again, it is not in my nature to ponder on the reasons why these events have occurred in such a way. I choose to believe that it was meant to happen on this date and therefore it did. So, after years of trying to convince my mother that , yes, I am mature enough to decide to wear hijab, it finally happened without much fanfare. I just put on a cotton sweater over my t-shirt and borrowed a scarf from either my mom or sister, I can't remember from whom exactly. That was all I needed to do to become muhajaba. Back then, I was a bit of a tom-boy (to be honest, I still am). My wardrobe consisted of jeans and t-shirts. All I had to do was buy a couple of sweaters to cover up my arms and borrow a scarf from my mother's or sister's collection to cover my head.

It's been 18 years since I first wore hijab. I have never come to regret my decision. On the  contrary, the older I get , the more empowered I feel as a muhajaba. Growing up, I didn't give it much thought, but in college I realized that the veil provide much more than physical cover up. One can't deny that we live in a visual society. As a veiled woman, I know that I capture the attention of others with what I have to say, rather than how I look. As a feminist, I find this the most empowering thing of all. Veiled woman are evaluated on merits of their work and their value to the organization - void of va-va-voom hair, cleavage, and gams. Knowing that this little piece of cloth has helped me excel throughout my career, makes me walk a little bit taller - parading the fact that I AM A PROUD VEILED MUSLIM WOMAN - and I like it !

Lessons Learned ?

We all knew that it will be an up-hill battle, a learning opportunity. We have all experience and witnessed learning curves before. We usually bear the consequences of the mistakes  made along the road to enlightenment and we often get to enjoy the fruits of the experience. However, when an entire nation is leaning how to engage into politics and survive within a democratic environment, the stakes are much higher. Again, we are all learning and we have no one to show us the way. Unfortunately it will be our children who will bear the results of our forte into democracy. 

Before I venture further I would like to iterate my position. I have never supported this so called revolution. I believe that the events were instigated to simply ouster the old regime and introduce anarchy. The true objective was to replace Aldo be Shahin, to have a specific party/individual in power. Yet the aim of this post is not to explain my point of view on the revolution. I simply wished to reiterate what I have been saying all long, as I did not want to be accused of flip-flopping. Whether I supported the revolution or not is besides the point. At the end we are all Egyptians, we should work together for the betterment of the country and of society. This is why I choose to participate - as much as I can - in this political awakening. I must admit that now, 18 months after all hell broke loose, I am able to have a more objective point of view. Maybe because I no longer leave in Egypt - so my livelihood is not contingent on what happens within the country, or simply because I have come to terms with the death of My Egypt. We all have to acknowledge that the Egypt we know, The Egypt we grew up with is long gone and it is not coming back. We must move forward, towards the future. Although the journey ahead is full of turmoil and it'll change course as much as the stairs at Hogwarts, we must preserve and keep course. 

In my attempt to move ahead, I will summarize the lessons learned (or are they?) during the past year and half. This is from my perspective, similarly I encourage everyone to do the same. Together - as one nation - we must learn to face our failures before we celebrate our victories. Most importantly, WE must LEARN from our mistakes.

1. Lets take a moment to get our heads out of our assess and confess that we know shit about shit ! I apologize for the profanity, but I think it is called for. Enough is enough. If we want to be vocal about politics, economics, religion, history . . etc, we have to first possess some knowledge (any knowledge) about these topics. If not, then at least lets agree that we are operating on an uneducated bunch or point of view, and not facts.
2. Every right comes with responsibilities. If we want democracy (as our basic right) then we have the responsibility to participate in the democratic process. If we want changes, then we have the responsibility to start with our selves. If we choose to passively stand on the sidelines, then we forfeit the right to complain, comment, or protest.
3. Fel Et-had Kowa is not just a mantra or slogan, it has to become a way of life. In order to unit segregated entities we need clear objectives and goals. If we examine the 25 Jan Revolution, the only thing uniting the people in Tahrir square at the time was the objective of getting rid of Mubarak. Unfortunately, if this was a true revolution, getting rid of Mubarak should have been a mean and not a cause. Once that ultimate objective was met, the people in the square started to move into different groups, disagreeing on almost everything. Some pseudo-leaders emerged, such as Hamdeen El Sahaby. Yet they were not able to rally enough support to guarantee a spot in the 2nd round of presidential elections. I personally believe that if Abu El Fotouh, El Sabahy, El Aow, and Khaled Aly formed a united coalition, they would have created a powerful unit strong enough to overtake the Muslim Brotherhood in the 2nd round. ma3lesh 7'era fe 3'erha, hopefully the lesson is learned (or not?) and we can rectify this mistake in the upcoming parliamentary and presidential elections.
4. Furthermore, objectives don't only unit people but they also provide a cause, a purpose, a reason to be patient and withstand the hardship and keep the course. Objectives renew people's hope when all seems gone. Enough with empty slogans, kefaya she3arat. It is easy to point fingers at the old regime and governments, blaming them for everything. We should demand from the newly elected President, who is backed by a political party, and people's assembly,to set forth concise road-maps, objectives, and measures for achieving their promises. It will be our responsibility to hold them accountable for these results.
5. Last but not least, we must acknowledge that this is only the beginning and it is going to get much worse before it gets better.