Monday, December 29, 2008

5 months in, still disconnected

The largest force keeping Cairo and I apart is language. The universal language of love, which I sometimes feel for Cairo, does not keep me from getting lost in a cab, or over charged for snacks. Love keeps me happy while I silently wander the streets or sip a cup of coffee, but those are just shorts dates and a long-term relationship requires much more communication. So, I am making an effort to communicate with Cairo in its native tongue. My efforts are quite possible the slowest relationship of my life and we are not even up to bat yet. Oh well, good things come to those who wait?

This language disconnect between Cairo and I is increased when I realize how different I look from most of the people on the street. I did not realize how diverse America was until I moved to a city where almost everyone looks alike and wears just about the same things. Looking alike is one thing, but the men and women dress in about three styles and everything reeks of the mid 1990s. Of course this is a generalization, but men wear suits, galabeyias and jeans with t-shirts. Veiled women tend to come in two types. Women who wear the veil along with standard American teenage trends like skinny jeans, heels, tight shirts, tunic tops and bright colors. Most of these women are younger. Then there are women who wear the veil with either a female galabeyia or with looser tops and long loose skirts. Most of these women are older, look married, and probably have kids. Either way if you wear a veil you also cover your arms, neck, and legs. Some women let a little hair peak out. Showing a little hair in Cairo is not quite the revolutionary stance it is in Iran or a more conservative country. Unveiled women have more variety, but bright colors, over curled hair and clashing patterns rule the roost.

I try not to be bothered by veiled women but sometimes I just want to see some skin. I am also bothered by my own reaction, why is it that I automatically associate liberation with skin and clothing? I try to get over the Western idea that a dominating male force makes all the women wear the veil because I know the opposite is true. Many older and younger women choose when and why they want to wear a veil. I have yet to come into contact with someone whose parents forced them to wear the veil. Even if they did how different is that than my parents not letting me wear certain tops out of the house or skirts to a dance. I suppose the difference is once you put on the veil you do not stop, such a final choice.

When viewed religiously I can handle the veil as a sign of modesty and devotion. Mormons dress conservatively, many Jewish men and women wear conservative clothes, and I am guessing that most devout Christians would not wear half the things going down the average New York runway. I think what really bothers me is without a religious lens having to cover up your hair, arms, legs, and on some cases hands and face is oppressive. Your non-religious reality as a veiled woman is different and less open than the reality of men and unveiled women. Temperatures are warmer, movement is restricted, styles have closed parameters, beaches are pointless, and part of you is hidden from almost everyone you see on a daily basis. Saving tan lines and lingerie for a lover is one thing, but are family and spouse really the only people who deserve to see all of you? If I was a guy I would be offended by the assumption I would turn into a sex-crazed maniac with just the sight of arms or hair. God forbid I see legs!

I feel oppressed because I get the feeling that I am somehow breaking rules I do not even know about and never agreed to follow. In someways I agreed to the rules the minute I bought a plane ticket to Egypt. I wonder if travelers in America feel the same way or if because it is such a diverse country you can ignore rules on style, dress, etiquette, and behavior.

Mine is an outsider’s point of view and not totally informed about the customs and rules laid out in the Koran. But, all countries are viewed through the eyes of outsiders and what you do reflects your country, this I am learning too.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

Thank you to our middle eastern political correspondant Carrie Bradshaw.

Faye said...

you are welcome