Ze Egybitian Woman

I leave you today with this brilliant post by Ghawayesh, as a prelude to my two upcoming posts: Why I’m not married and What I’m looking for.

Ze Egybtian Woman

Women, any women, or even men for that matter, are a reflection of their culture in everything they do.

So let’s see what our culture (generally speaking) dictates us and how we react to it accordingly. (Please bear in mind that the different classes see things in variable degrees):

*Since childhood we can only play with dolls and kitchen appliances. Results: We are programmed to realize that we should be good house-keepers and baby carers. I bought my son a mini-washing machine, mini-vacuum cleaner, mini-iron and ironing board, mini-kitchen, and a baby doll (and they are all among his favorite toys), and when my (Egypt-based and Egypt-minded) sister saw that, she was stunned, and said: “Your son will become a homo”.

*As we grow up, we constantly hear: “You’re a girl, you can’t do that. Only boys can do that”. “That” can be anything adventurous; demanding physical strength; technical thinking or action; or freedom of movement. Result: We are cripples! We don’t sport, we stand helpless if the kitchen sink is clogged, or the car breaks down, or the computer crashes. Hey! We are women and we need a man to save us, right? Travelling alone abroad is still a taboo to most of us (Things are changing now though, thumbs up).

My sister was once at work and her boss told her: “You are one of my best employees, you’re good enough to be a man! I think you should have your post-graduate degree abroad. But you won’t go that far to live and travel alone like some women of nowadays do, would you? *said while he’s rolling his eyes*. Wait until you marry maybe your husband will take you abroad”. He didn’t know of course that this very young woman he was talking to takes a role model in her sisters and her mother who did exactly what he finds so offensive.

*A girl’s main goal in life should be to hunt down a man. No matter how high we reach, we are *nothing* without a man. From the moment puberty hits us in the butt, the rat-race starts. And in order to get one hooked, we have to be the perfect candidates.

Now the question is, who’s the perfect candidate?

The more female the better. Okay how do I do that?

• Walk like a woman. Result: We walk “gluteously”. I think you get my point. Wearing high pointed heels all day. Get bunions, calluses, or claw-toes.. Who cares?
• Talk like a woman. Result: We have two voices, one for home (the natural go33eerah), and one for outside, which is soft, harmonious, and more weasel-like.
• Act like a woman. Results:

1. If your car broke down, wait helplessly next to it and have the fragile look on your face until your hero emerges out of the nearest-by balla3ah (sewage hole).
2. Don’t be too clever. You can’t be more clever than the guy. Pretend not to know anything about politics or science. You don’t know any swear words/slang or anything about sex.
3. Sell/present yourself well. Looks are mostly what matters. We have an obsession with the exterior.

Now who do you want to end up with? A conservative man who “knows God”? Well sister, then you gotta wear a higab/khimar/niqab/3abaya/melaya, no make-up or perfume, say nothing but God said and the prophet said, walk like an introvert and have an aura of a little scared mouse, hang around the religious circles and be best friends with people who seem to have eligible brothers or sons who happen to have contracts in KSA.

Now if you want a progressive, open-minded, Western-like dude, okay then baby, be my guest to look as European (and nowadays replace European with Lebanese) as you can. That of course becomes a reflection of what we see in the media. Only few of us know how European women are really like and be really like them (In a good way I mean, as in practical, hard-working, no fashion-freaks etc..). Okay what do I need for this?

From top to toe: Blond hairs (bleach), white skin (make-up), a good body (Do a *Dyt*, pronounced the Egyptian way), but sorry, the boobs and the ass stay, guys like that, baby! Go to the hairdresser at least once a week. You can’t let anyone know you have curly frizzy hair; what! You want to become an old-maid? And don’t forget to get your 20 nails “did” while you’re there. Don’t forget to use loads of English and French into your Arabic, and a bonus is to use words like “mahdooma”(=digested, a Lebanese word which actually means nice!). Breaking News: The Lebanese have fake noses, boobs, lips and hips. Papa can buy you some too, if you wish. Oh and one more thing, your grandma is Turkish.

*You’re a virgin. You will always be a friggin’ virgin. Forget all the Orfis and zombies you’ve been through (or better said, have been through you). YOU ARE A VIRGIN. Have been pregnant with 6 bastards and went to Dr. Amr of Heliopolis for some D&C and sewing up? Forget that, nothing happened. Y O U- A R E -A- V I R G I N! Mashi ya kotta?!

*I was once in a wedding of people I didn’t know too well, and as always I was observing. I could tell who’s single and who’s married. The married ones looked like trucks, and the single ones were still intact. The married ones moved in space like cookie monsters and talked like Stewies, and were beeloghghoo (engulfing) the food like there was no hope for a repeat, while the single ones were picking the food with the tip of their forks and spending a minute or two chewing on each tiny-winy bite. Hey! Maybe the man of their dreams, his mother, sister, SIL, or aunt is watching. Always be ready!

*The men are always right. If you get harassed or abused; shut up. It was your fault anyway. Why go out at night? Oh! You’re a nurse and had a nightshift? Why did you become nurse?! To go out at night and be touched up by cute doctors, I bet! Why wear what you were wearing? Oh! You were wearing the veil? But the police “cross-examination” proves you had a hot black bra on. Why a hot black bra, of all bras, ya sharmoota? See? You’re just asking for it!

*Now that there’s someone finally proposing: Demand a butt-load of money for shabka and mahr. Make him feel you’re worth millions. It will make him value you more. While actually deep down you can’t believe that someone finally got trapped into marrying you, but hey, he is not supposed to know that you were a wo-man with a plan, and that your tricks finally worked. Et2aly! (literally translated: Be heavy!!)

Now that you’ve finally gotten married:

*You know nothing about sex (I know you do, but do as if). Never ask for it, never say what you want, never show him the way to your clitoris (if it is still alive and budding), or else he will think you’re experienced. Want to lose your King Kong, baby? Go a head then and enjoy sex and make him feel suspicious! You deserve all what you get then . I know sex feels like a frontal collision on Cairo-Alexandria Road; I know you have chronic pain and discomfort because of it; and I know you are often forced to do it, but hey, shut up and open those lovelies/fuglies for the master of disaster approaching in maximum speed.

*You’re married! Hurraaaayyyy! You’re a winner! Next step: DO NOT by any chance let go of him. Men are natural cheaters. Do not lose sight of him. Do not let him talk to other women. Tell the kids to spy on him for you. Even if you can’t afford food. GET HIM A MOBILE! Then you know where he is all day. Stalk the testosterone out of him. Call him every other hour and ask him where he is and what he’s doing. I know you’re busy with the kids and the house, and you haven’t noticed the miserable shape you’re in, but as long as you got him the kids, time for the roles to turn hun.

IT’S PAY BACK TIME.. MOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

He won’t leave you! You have kids with him! Now baby, have the morning, midday and evening fight as you wish. Nakkedy (cause annoyance and trouble) as you like. Remember, you are the mother of his kids, and he will always be weak for that.

Insult his manhood, his brains, his miserable income, his family, throw stilettos at him at the lobby of Omar Effendi, JUST DO IT baby and your mother is totally behind you!

And at the end of the day, receive a good beating just to recap on who the real boss is, and to bring the balance back into the relationship, sealed with a fcuk.

Repeat the cycle if you’re a good girl, or break free like my mommy and me.

Sincerely,
Ghawayesh