Wednesday, August 14, 2013

RED Vs. BLUE and BOOOM went the BOMB

There was a time bomb planted in the earlier regime, two “specialists” from the bomb squad were called in to save the day. Specialist one decided to go with the BLUE wire ..Specialist two with the RED wire…. Tick Toc as the conversation heated up and time ran out , the RED Specialist decided to take control pushed over the BLUE Specialist , took the bomb and ran away.. too overwhelmed by the power between his hands , for he held life and death, the euphoric sense of power made him forget about TIC TOC… BOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM…bomb went out… Silence..
The Blue specialist ecstatic about how right he was, came looked over the ruins , overlooked all the bodies and damage, and leaned over the corpse and cut the blue wire. It didn't matter if it was too late , it just mattered that he was right. 
Moral of the story: It doesn't matter if you were right once the damage is done. Time doesn't heal everything. A dead body is a dead body, Justice is justice, vengeance will be demanded, Hatred is upon us and we will reap what we sowed... time stops for no nation but pulls it into the eye of the twister of turmoil, perhaps history will surprise us, may it be kind.

Monday, August 12, 2013

Who will take the shirt off my back...?

Reminiscing the times when I had to be in downtown Cairo 3 days a week... attire: loose yoga pants, My "Downtown" Shirt, and sneakers, hair tied up in a bun. Not a ponytail because it has been proven to be extremely appealing for some weird reason I will never get. Once I reach my destination I take off the "Downtown" short to reveal a half sleeved t-shirt which is pretty standard, I wouldn't call it appealing at all, wear my hair down or in a ponytail and VOILA I recognize myself again.
Reminiscing the times when I went to protest all across Cairo... attire: loose pants, "Downtown" shirt or what is equivalent, so probably a long sleeved, long something that gives me the silhouette of a sack, hair bun
Reminiscing the times I went to finish governmental paper work: attire: "Downtown" Shirt, sack silhouette achieved   , hair bun.
Reminiscing on how many times I was harassed in my “meet the public “attire is ridiculous. I think that I pretty much made myself repelling, if not then least to say off the radar. You can’t see any details of a feminine person, I don’t even bling. 
it recently hit me,  I realized how I feed the phenomena of sexual harassment in Egypt, how I help make it grow.
I am a coward, I let the sexual harasser infiltrate my subconscious and pick up my wardrobe. Whenever I look in the mirror I don’t see myself with my own eyes but that of a harasser, the eyes of a criminal.
I think it’s safe to say that many women have the same set of eyes. It’s the same set of sick eyes that undress you as you walk on by , the set of eyes that penetrates every cell of your body and sets out the “Here it comes” alert  when you just know he is about to say something or do something to you. The eyes that tracks and hunts you down in the busy streets, streets you think are too busy to comprehend the passing of a female. No matter what you are wearing, no matter how many layers, how loose your clothes are, how boring or dull or monochromatic. You dear lady are getting stripped.  Sad to say that actually getting stripped isn't far-fetched.
In times where women share the streets with “Male” creatures that can start sexual harassment at the age of 10...YES 10!! In times where some women are killed after an attempt of sexual harassment that she simply refused to let it slide…True story. Note we are talking about Harassment and assault  , let alone the gruesome raping and gang raping that happen in broad day light where a million people are gathered.
I share the streets with people, who chose to turn the other way when they see sexual harassment, or try to persuade you to just “let it slide”.  When I walk streets that not only embraced public urination but can actually oversee public masturbation.  It just seems natural to try to seem as invisible as I possibly could. But this isn't the answer. I am not advocating running around looking sexually provocative as well, but I just want to be me,  wear my hair down , and wear my ‘downtown’ shirt if I want to , not because I use it as  armor.
I will not feed this sick society with playing it safe, I am sticking to my grounds and convenient wardrobe. This is not a feminist movement and I refuse to call it that. This is my basic human right, my right as a citizen of this country, and people who ask women to adapt to a sick society; the people who wear the eyes of the sick are their equivalent.  I can’t be shamed that I am a woman for having breasts and different genitals that all the sick perverts out there. A country that overlooks the coexistence of more than half the population in basic rights won’t have very far to go , because it’ll be lost in a pit of hormones , my example is the last parliament.
I salute every single woman who fights and struggles every day for her wardrobe, femininity, body, virginity and most recently her life.
Question is are women going to take the “Downtown” shirt off their backs , will you help them take it off, or will we watch it getting ripped off their backs?
I am keeping the shirt in the closet until further notice from the population of our dark city.