Last night I couldn’t sleep.
I lay in my bed for nearly two hours going over and over and
over the events of the week, my thoughts like storm waves clawing at a desolate
trawler. My body was exhausted but my mind just wouldn’t shut down as it tried
to process my experiences and observations over gender in Jordan. At the same
time, I was feeling not so much homesick as activism-sick
– longing to come back to the United States and return to the fights I has been engaged in over the Spring and Summer.
After living in Irbid for about a month, I’m getting the
sense that there are some fundamental differences surrounding gender relations
between the US and Jordan. Here, the
genders only interact under very specific circumstances – often (though not all
the time) there seems to be a de facto wall barring any informal interactions
between men and women. I still don’t necessarily understand everything, so it
might be best to take my thoughts with an extra grain of salt until I’ve been
able to process and observe more. However, there does seem to be some clarity
to the fact that the consequence of this stark separation is that men are given
extreme social agency while women have little to none.
A few examples:
- I have not talked to a single Jordanian woman since arriving other than the staff in my program and roommates of my American friends. This is a literal fact. It is interesting how this contrasts with the extreme hospitality of the culture to reveal social agency. For example, whenever I cross the street it sometimes seems like half the city says “Welcome to Jordan!” Despite the enthusiastic gusto, the welcome really only does come from half the population.
- Reinforcing this fact, certain service sector jobs – shop owners, clerks, wait staff, cooks – seem to be predominantly male. I have only seen female clerks in large department stores – not in smaller local establishments. Whenever I go to the store to buy groceries or eat at a restaurant, most of interactions are with other men. However, I have seen female teachers, janitors, and government staff.
- When a Jordanian friend who had studied in Houston invited several of my friends to his house, his wife cooked the meal. My friends never saw her, never spoke with her, never congratulated her on the absolutely amazing job she did although their descriptions afterwards had my mouth watering.
Perhaps the craziest thing was a Jordanian friend of mine
explaining his family dynamics. If he wants tea or coffee, he tells his mother
or sister to make it for him. If they don’t, his Dad yells at them.
However, I think it is important to avoid the perception
that Jordanian women are fundamentally meek or subservient – those few
Jordanian women I have interacted with tend to have incredibly strong and
vibrant personalities punctuated by copious amounts off laughter. My teacher has a loud yet cute
guffaw which she uses quite often in our class. She is established as the
authority in our class and all the students clearly respect her. The program
director curses like a sailor and is kinda like that crazy Aunt you can’t wait
to see over the holidays. I’ve discussed the best Arabic curse words with her –
her favorite is “your mother’s pussy.”
The hardest thing for me has been figuring out where I stand
in relation to the clear patriarchy in Jordan. As shocked as I am by some of the gender
traditions, I can’t help but think of Arab feminists who have written on how white
feminists trying to “fix” Arab culture are just as big a problem as patriarchy
itself. It’s a pretty clear case of why intersectionality is integral to any
social justice struggle. Right now, probably the worst thing I could do would be to fight. All I can do is observe and
listen – I’ve only been here for a month. There’s a lot I haven’t seen. I want
to talk to the Jordanian women I do know and get a deeper understanding of
their thoughts on Jordanian culture and gender.
I skyped with a good friend of mine last Thursday and I kept
going through this circular thought process, thinking about how she’d love it
here in Jordan, then remembering how that she would have a very different
experience because she’s female, then realizing she probably would not love it
here because she is female. That thought trail ran through my head
several times before we actually talked.
As an activist, I’m used to being engaged in a struggle
against the injustices of the world. When I see suffering around me, it pisses
me off and makes me want to fight. But here, unlike the United States, I don’t have
any fight to channel that emotion into. Right now, I’m not part of a community
actively dedicated to changing the world for the better and fighting the really
bad shit that exists out there. Having this experience of being forcibly dissociated
from activism… is weird.
That was the other thing that kept me up last night –
thinking about the fights I’m involved in – on campus and with the union. I
kept visualizing what they were doing, what they would be doing, and how I
would fit in with that when I returned. There’s that really trite phrase
“distance makes the heart grow fond.” To be completely honest, that’s how I
feel with activism right now. We’ll see where I am after a semester, but
experiencing life without activism… is dull. Like a broad and beautiful canvass
with the vibrancy of color robbed from it. For me, one of the many wonderful
opportunities that come from this study abroad program is self-reflection. And
as a result of such reflection, I can’t really see myself doing anything but
activism after I graduate. After spending two years volunteering and working in social justice activism, it's not just that the work fills an emotional need. In all truth, I love the work.
That being said, I think this semester is a wonderful opportunity
for me as a social justice activist. This semester is a lesson in listening
which I’m thankful for. As a white man, I’ve grown up in a society and globalized
world which prioritizes my words first – regardless of their content – because I’m
a white man. I’ve received a lot more training in speaking than I have in
listening. Here, I don’t know shit because it’s not my culture and that’s
a great thing because, if I really want to understand, I have to listen! (Though,
I get the sense white/American privilege does totally exist here – that might
be the subject of a later post).
