"Say
to the believing men that they should lower their gaze and guard their
modesty...And say to the believing women that they should lower their gaze
and guard their modesty; that they should not display their beauty and ornaments
except what ordinarily appear thereof; that they should draw their veils over
their bosoms..." Quran 24:30, 31 http://www.islamicity.com/mosque/w_islam/veil.htm
Adapting to Saudi Culture
I knew that in coming to Saudi Arabia I would have to adapt
to many cultural differences. Not only do I clearly stand out because I am a
white Westerner, but I stand out because I am a woman. In Canada—even in
multicultural Toronto, where, as my friend pointed out she and I, as white
women, are minorities every time we step onto the TTC (Toronto's transit
system)—I blend comfortably into the crowd of multicultural faces and bodies;
here in Saudi Arabia, however, I stand out. Yes, there is multiculturalism in
the cosmopolitan city of Jeddah. But, I'm learning, cultural behaviours,
actions and dress are highly influenced by where you are (or live) in the city!
Trips to some Malls!
For instance, last week, DH and I went to the other side of
town to Rawdah District where I met up with a friend on Christmas Eve. On our
way home, we stopped at a mall to run some errands, and there I was shocked to
see women walking around without their heads covered, abayas slung casually
over their shoulders not buttoned up, and nonchalantly walking around almost as
though they were back home.
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| Alandalus Mall, Jeddah |
Compare this to a typical trip to our local Alandalus Mall.
There, it's rare to see anything more than a woman's eyes. Women wear their
abayas properly (i.e. buttoned up), cover their heads, and wear niqab (face
cover--see photo below). Some women don’t even show their eyes, opting to instead wear a thin
veil over their entire face! DH tells me—and it's not difficult to see—that we
live in a very "Saudi" neighbourhood, literally among the locals.
Women in Al Naseem District are outwardly conservative in their dress, and do
as the above passage instructs: they "guard their modesty" and do not
put their bodies on display.
Where do I fit in?
I find myself, a white Canadian woman, in the midst a bit of
an identity crisis. How am I supposed to dress? Act? Express myself when out in
public? In the busy, multicultural Rawdah District, I'd feel more than
comfortable to leave my hair uncovered, and speak up for myself, and walk with
my head held high. In my neighbourhood, though, I feel as though I should be
more guarded. Not because I'm afraid, but because I'm trying to be attuned to
what would be most respectful to the locals. Though a resident of Saudi Arabia,
I am, after all, a visitor.
At times, though, remaining constantly respectful is
difficult! I'm used to speaking up for myself, having a voice, and making sure
I'm heard. Not in an aggressive way, but just in a way that demonstrates I'm
equal, I'm here, I'm heard. I'm not a militant feminist by any stretch of the
imagination, but I do believe women are—and should be!—equal to their male
counterparts.
I struggle to find the ways in which this society allows
women the equality I have set out to explore. Saudi Arabia, in the western
media, is notorious for "mistreating" women, and subjugating them as
"second class citizens." Although I sometimes struggle to see female
equality in the culture, I am not
convinced that it's nonexistent. I'm determined to see past my personal struggle, cultural
adjustments and challenges, and to find the ways in which Saudi / Arab women,
or women who are living, as myself, as residents in this country, are
independent, assertive, and strong social forces.
Discovering spaces of equality
I have two experiences I'd like to share that relate to expressions of female identity and voice in Saudi Arabia. I'll start with my
first "outing" in Jeddah. The morning after I arrived and was finally
able to sleep a few hours after my long journey, DH took me to the university
medical clinic for my medical tests I needed for my residency card, or
"iqama." I put on my abaya, covered my hair, and got into the car.
Once we arrived at the clinic, I followed DH in, and was surprised that nothing inside was segregated! I was expecting separate family / singles entrances,
waiting areas, and line ups. Okay, I thought, I'll just follow DH's lead here.
He checked me in at the female counter (check-in, at least, seemed to be separate), and
they sent us to a doctor down the hall. He filled out a requisition for some
blood tests, and pointed us toward a waiting area. There, we got a number, and
went to sit down. On our way to the seating, DH said something funny and I
laughed aloud. A couple of men in thobes and gutras (the traditional Saudi
dress for men) stared at me. DH whispered, "women don't laugh loudly in
public." "Are you serious??" So, some experiential knowledge of
the culture I definitely didn't read about! (And trust me, I've done tons or
reading over the past 2.5 years that DH has been here).
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| Waiting room |
We then sat down quietly. I was, at this point, a bit unsure
about how I was supposed to be acting in this non-segregated waiting area and
started to cry (wondering whether it is acceptable for women to cry in public)! DH was
kind and comforted me during my first small bout of culture shock. Other women
were sitting with their husbands, and no one seemed to be talking or doing much
else than staring at the numbers on the screen waiting for their turn for blood
work. We might attribute this either to the culture (of female silence in public?) or simply the
fact that we were in a medical center and people are generally a bit more
subdued in such an environment, even in Canada.
On second thought, maybe in Canada we shouldn’t laugh loudly
in a medical center anyways. Think of the poor person waiting to be tested for thyroid
disease, or some kind of frightening, life-changing ailment.
Beyond the silence…Under the abaya
It wouldn’t be fair if I left you with only the negative image of me crying in the university medical center waiting room feeling silenced by the culture. As promised,
I will now share a second scenario where I met and spoke with a young Saudi Arabian woman
during my 8 hour stopover in Abu Dhabi.
When I disembarked from my long 12 hour flight from Toronto
at the Abu Dhabi airport, my first stop was the washroom. There’s nothing like
a real washroom after being on an
airplane for so long! I’d decided in advance that it would be a good idea for
me to don my abaya upon landing. DH wasn’t sure how I’d find it waiting alone
in the UAE for such a long time and I figured it would be best to draw as
little attention to myself as possible.
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| Abu Dhabi Airport |
I was standing at the washroom mirror fixing my makeup and
hair when a woman walked in in her niqab (face covering) and abaya. She
proceeded to also freshen up, and changed into a black Saudi abaya. I figured
there was a good chance she was also headed to Jeddah. I smiled at her and she
said hello. I asked her if she just got off the flight from Toronto and she
said yes, her husband is studying in Canada and she’s been in Waterloo with him
for about 6 months now. They were on their way back home to Riyadh (the capital
of Saudi Arabia) for winter break. As we spoke, she skillfully
wrapped her hijab and niqab and I thought I might ask her for some help with my
own scarf. I am seriously troubled at making mine look good and stay on. It either
stays on and looks terrible, or looks good for about 10 minutes and then slides
off my head!
She was kind enough to help me out, and we spoke a little
bit more before exchanging numbers and heading our separate ways. This might
sound a little bit silly to those of you who live (have lived) in Saudi, but
for me, this was my first time speaking to a "real" Saudi woman. Outside in
public, local women might seem unapproachable, guarded, and silent, but among
other women it seems that things are the same here.
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| Freshening up... |
For instance, my building is usually pretty quiet, and it was an entire week before I even saw another woman in the hallway. When a man other than my husband enters the apartment, it's custom (read: properly befitting a woman) to stay in the background and not be seen. Especially since in a woman's own home she's "uncovered" (not wearing her abaya!) The other day the satellite guy came to do the installation, and I was stuck in the back part of our apartment for a couple of hours. Interestingly, even the apartments are constructed in such a way that the "family" area is in the back, and the "guest" area (washroom and sitting room / living room) are in the front right near the entrance. Reminds me of Rensissance English homes: the woman is always in the most "protected" space inside, far from the eyes of prying male strangers, never near the windows.
Tentative conclusions…
Ultimately, I think my meeting with the lovely Saudi woman I discussed earlier,
coupled with my own experiences I’ve described above, merit some interesting
analysis. Women are to act one way when in public—especially in relation to the
opposite sex—but in private, I don’t know that North American and Saudi
cultures are all that different.
Here, the family is the bedrock of society. All it takes is
a short drive through any area of Jeddah to realize that this culture is
centered around the family, its comfort, its enjoyment, and preservation. The relative
silence or quietness of women in public, I might safely conclude, is connected
to the preservation of the family. Going back to my opening passage, both women
and men are, in the Quran, called to “lower their gaze and guard their modesty.” Indeed, I am surprised at
how respectful men are in this part of the world. Yes, people stare at me
because I’m clearly not a local, but there are no cat calls, no rude or
suggestive gestures, and not once has a man attempted to make direct eye
contact with me.
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| Family picnics and fun along Jeddah Corniche |
Sure, there are stories about Saudi men in Canada the western
world running after white women and trying to deceive them, but when in Rome… So
far, my experience in Jeddah has been at times challenging, but more than
anything, it’s been enlightening. Cultural barriers are breaking down, and I’m
seeing that there are many, many things that the west might learn from a culture
that embraces life, family, and faith.
