changing language - it's NOT honor killings
by Khulud | August 31, 2011 at 1:52 PM
here comes another fragment from my "Life in Fragments" novel-in-progress
In late afternoon, Ziyad dropped by with three halves of falafel from Michel’s Falafel down in the Wad. His anxiousness about meeting Maisoon’s parents for the first time was visible in his eyes, detectable in his voice. “Everything will be tamam, Zeen. Khalti Layla is really a wonderful woman,” Shahd tried to calm him with an artificially sweet tone. “Shu? I’m more worried about Abu Tayseer than about khaltek Layla,” he growled back at her. Shahd pulled out her claws, “Tayyeb, so worst scenario: murder on family honor grounds.” At the last words, Maisoon winced. She gathered the paper bags from the falafel, bunched them into a ball and threw them at Ziyad. “Go and make us some shai with fresh na’ana,” the look she gave him didn’t leave any opening for argument. He knew that look. It was the look of the moment before. The moment before either withdrawing back or attacking. He hoped it would be withdrawal, but knew it was pulling her in the other direction instead. When he was out of earshot, Maisoon said in a low voice, without looking at her friend, “I don’t want to hear that expression again from you. Not in my apartment, Shahd.”
Not comprehending, all Shahd could do was wait in silence for the rest to come. “The words katel ala sharaf el-eely. It’s the wrong discourse, Shahd. After all, we construct our reality with words. And these words keep us oppressed. It’s not honor killing, Shahd. It’s plain gender-based murder. The honor of my family isn’t between my legs. It lies in leading a dignified, honest living. Not to say, what is honor anyway? We interpret words as we see fit for our own purposes, after all. I don’t believe in honor. I believe in dignity. As long as I lead my life without causing harm to others, is that honor enough for you? If I’m honest and sincere, doesn’t that count too? If my family are good people, is that honor enough? And if Tayseer has a girl and they make love, How come he’s not sullying his family honor? Or does the girl only count? And why? Bte’arafi, I refuse this language. What I do with my body is my own business. Not my father’s business, and not my mother’s. Not even Ziyad’s. It’s all my own.” She looked up, and saw Shahd’s eyes were wet. “I’m sorry, habbuba. I didn’t mean to upset you, but this is how I feel, and it’s important for me. If I’m not married to Ziyad and we sleep together, do you really believe in your heart that it makes me a bad person?”
Silence.
Ziyad walking in with shai.
Shahd straightening up.
Tears in the eyes of both women.
The flat sound of the tray on the skamla.
Ziyad’s arm around Maisoon’s shoulder.
A whisper in her ear.
Shahd’s face in her palms.
Then – Shahd’s arms around Maisoon.
Another whisper in the ear.
And then – forgiveness.
to read more fragments from my "Life in fragments" novel-in-progress, please visit http://feministpalestinianwriter.blogspot.com/search/label/Life%20in%20F...
