I’m in Prague, and it’s raining romantically. Under an umbrella, a wool plaid around my shoulder, an excellent dinner on the table, a breathtaking view from a terrace in Prague, and it feels great. Really.
My assertion might sound weird, I insist on feeling good because many of my friends don’t really get it. Alone, you—an Arab woman? How can you go to the movies alone? Have lunch alone? Travel alone—you, an Arab woman? Being in our own company is not a common thing in our Arab world. For women, it’s considered even more odd behavior. We usually like being in at least a group of two. Wherever you go, you’ll see women, younger and older ones moving together, each one sporting her own style or on the contrary showing fondness for a common style, conversing, sharing tips, advising, eating, drinking, shopping, going to the movie, in the park...Sharing is a very noble affair, and I believe that the ability to be with others is a great gift.
I’m blessed to be born in a warm and caring society in the Arab world, but from time to time it becomes overwhelming and I really feel the need to be on my own, reconnect with my own ME and rediscover what I really like to buy, read, watch, listen. And you know what? Not share it with anyone!
Don’t get me wrong, this withdrawal is temporary and I think a sort of a survival trick to recalibrate my inner me. As Arab women, our parents make sure to have us in a safe bubble, in a cocoon, and we’re encouraged to weave unfailing friendships throughout our lives.
I don’t reject friendship nor the warmth we are so lucky to experience in our society. It’s just that we were also taught to be independent and develop a fighting spirit and that, for me, requires a fine balance between the rich contribution of others to our own being and our own deep gravity. Now back to that terrace in Prague, lovely Prague. It’s rude to keep Mimi waiting for me, isn’t it?
By Mimi Raad
