Al Arabiyah #6

I am contained. They say that my voice shouldn’t be heard, that my name shouldn’t be uttered, and that my face shouldn’t be seen. 

I laugh at them now.

Why am I contained? I cant be contained. I am intelligence and complexity combined: I'm human.  

 So, why should be my dreams be in his hands?  Why should I give them to him?

--I’m the ill mannered and immodest women of the past and the present; the women who died in vain and in glory; the women who dreamt and couldn’t and the women who dreamt and could.

Here is my name, my voice, and my face. Here are my dreams and here are are my hands. Here, here is where they belong.

Arabiyah #5

I wish I could say to them:

You’re not smarter than us. I know it scares you when young women, like us, tell you that. It threatens your too-inflated ego, and your false sense of authority. You refuse to accept that the woman of today, are not like the woman of yesterday.

You need to understand that the dominance that you’ve enjoyed for so many years, while the other half of the population suffered, no longer exists.

Or:

I’m not sure you’ve heard of the revolutionary women of today. You see, they will not clean up after your mess. They will not live up to your expectations. Because they are educated, they will laugh at you when you say: “We know what’s best for you.” They will have ideas and opinions and they will discuss them with you. They are not soft. They cannot be tricked with false pretty words. 

And just out of spite, I’d say:

These women are so revolutionary; in fact that they laugh at poor men like you: The ones still think that we’re after their attention and approval.

These women learned of a truth: They are just as human, just as complex, and just as intelligent as you are.

Arabiyah #4

Here are my dreams. I rested them in the palm of his hands. And I pray he honors them.

I learned to speak softly, and to tread lightly around him.

To rest my dreams in his hands is a fact of nature, a component that cannot be questioned, or omitted from the cosmic order of things.

My ancestors, they have all done it. They stooped their shoulders, lowered their heads, and they put their dreams in the palm of their hands.

 So who am I to challenge this natural order? Who am I to put my dreams in my own hands?

Here lie the dreams of a woman.