girls of riyadh

This summer, a Bahraini friend gave me a copy of Rajaa al-Sanea's book Girls of Riyadh. Released in Arabic in 2005, and banned in Saudi Arabia immediately, the young adult chick-lit caused quite the controversy.

The novel follows four upper-crust Saudi females through their early 20s as they pursue love, education, and contentment in a world defined by religious and misogynistic tradition, strict and gendered demands, and limited freedoms. They come to age at a time of collision between their Muslim world and a modern era of technology and, thus, expanded communication between the sexes. Men advertise their phone numbers through the windows of their cars. Romantic relationships blossom and decline entirely via text. Desperate proposals--to second wives--happen on cell phones. And nonetheless, these women, the most privileged in all of Saudi Arabia, find themselves unable to escape from a religious history that dictates how they ought act and whom they must marry.

In some ways, the existence of these women is understandable to me. Perhaps there exists some fundamental, animal force guiding the search for a mate that defies boundaries of culture, time, and geography. I could relate to their emotional hopes and strife.

In other ways, though, the world of Saudi and the lives of its women are so foreign to me that I cannot begin to fathom such a reality. Hoping that my husband will soon marry another woman in order to afford me more time to cook, clean, and maintain my physical appearance for his pleasure? Umm... no.

I'm privileged that I can't imagine forming that thought.

And these women of the Gulf encounter sexism and its corollary challenges daily and tangibly, not just in the emotional sphere of love. Indeed, the city of Riyadh recently released its plans to build a new female-only subway that will allow women to escape the groping hands and looks of their countrymen. Read an article about the plans here.

Yes, the project will provide women with increased mobility (of course, they cannot drive). But, I must ask: by supporting foreign oil-- whether politically or with the power of your own dollar-- whose idea of livehood are we actually protecting? What system of inequality do we perpetuate? What will happen when the oil fields dry up -- and are we prepared for that reality?

Thank you, habibi, for the book. It, as you, changed the way I view a piece of the world.

L