Chapter 5 #2
Dr. Sinclair is a forty-something woman whose features look too aristocratic with her sharp chin and delicate bone structure.
Her hair, which I think might be brown, glides down to her shoulders.
I love her sense of style, a modern twist on 1930s fashion.
Watching her in this colorless world feels like watching an old black-and-white movie.
Today she’s in wide-leg pants and an oversize white button-down shirt.
“Okay, class, this is always one of my favorite topics to teach.” She rubs her hands together before leaning against her desk, facing us.
“It’s easy to forget history. All the strides that were taken to bring us to where we are today.
A lot of moments in time and opportunities made possible because of the ones before us who sacrificed time, energy, and even their lives.
Women make up roughly half of the world’s population, and yet, throughout history, they have often either been persecuted and denied rights or have ruled countries and changed the course of literature and science.
A dichotomy, if you will.” She straightens her back.
“The driving forces behind that were politics; culture; the patriarchy, of course; and religion. We’re now in the twenty-first century, and there are still discussions going on around the country and the world on what constitutes human rights or women’s rights. ”
I become as still as a statue, breathing quietly. I know where this is headed. My thumping heart is like a canary in a mine.
“Despite that, we’ve come a long way,” Dr. Sinclair continues.
“Women weren’t allowed to own property, sign legal documents, have custody of their children, or control their own wages, and there were scarcely any opportunities for higher education.
When the French Revolution succeeded, a document was drafted called the Declaration of the Rights of Man.
Women being excluded from the narrative.
Now all of that has changed, of course. It took time, a long time, but it did happen. Still a long way to go.”
“Yeah, but even still, we’re better off than a lot of other places,” someone pipes up from the back. I turn to see an earnest-looking girl. “In other countries, simply existing as a woman means you could die.”
“You’re saying you’re okay making eighty-four cents on the dollar?” a girl with pigtails snorts. A few people laugh in agreement.
The first girl shakes her head. “I’m saying, putting things into perspective, it could be a lot worse.”
“Jessica, just because we’re not undergoing female circumcision doesn’t mean we should be ‘okay’ having the bare minimum,” the girl with pigtails says, and the girls around her murmur their agreement.
Jessica flushes a darker shade. “You’re missing the point. I’m not saying that—”
“Yeah, what Jessica means is that we should appreciate how far we’ve come but not settle for the bare minimum,” Hayley cuts in.
Jessica nods, shooting her a grateful look. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”
Everyone looks at Dr. Sinclair for her reaction, and from the corner of my eye, I see one boy stifling a yawn.
“Your reasoning is sound, Jessica,” Dr. Sinclair says. “It’s more important now than ever to stand for our rights. We could be looking at a very much darker future.”
“Whatever future it will be, it can’t be worse than those places where they stone girls for talking to boys,” someone says matter-of-factly.
A boy with dark hair looks straight at me, and the canary has already suffocated.
“We’ve heard the stories, and they’re not just in the Middle East but right here too.
‘Honor killings’ are what they’re called in Islam. Right?” he asks me.
Blood rushes to my cheeks. It’s one second when everyone stares at me, but it feels like eons. What do I say?
What do I say?
“It’s interesting you’d call it that,” Jamie says, and surprise sweeps the heat off my face.
I turn around to see him calm, eyebrows slightly raised.
“Because honor killings aren’t specific to one culture.
Culture, not religion. What about American women who end up killed by their abusive exes because they left them?
In my opinion, that’s the West’s version of an honor killing.
” He leans forward. “You want to discuss women’s rights in Islam?
First university in the world founded by a Muslim woman.
Fatima al-Fihiri. It’s still going strong to this day.
In Islam, women own property, have the right to their inheritance, don’t take their husband’s names, divorce their husbands, get higher education, work, control their wages, have custody of their children, take positions in power, are protected by society, and don’t make eighty-four cents on the dollar.
How does a religion like that condone an honor killing?
One that has a verse that says, ‘Whoever takes a life unjustified is as if they have killed all of humanity.’ Do you want me to go on? ”
I’m staring at him, trying to understand what I’m hearing. How does he know all of this?
“Excellent points, Jamie,” Dr. Sinclair says, amused. “Anything to counter, Dylan?”
Dylan looks as shocked as I feel, but he takes out his phone and waves it at Dr. Sinclair. “Can I make a quick search for a counterargument?”
Surprisingly, Dr. Sinclair agrees, and a few seconds later, Dylan looks up from his phone, “All religions police women’s bodies. You can’t even discuss abortion in the Middle East. It says so right here.”
“Catholics don’t allow it. A lot of Christians share the same view,” Jessica says. “They’re all Abrahamic religions in the end.”
All eyes are on Jamie with a few hesitant glances in my direction.
Jamie is quiet for a second before saying, “Abortion is a huge discussion in Islam. There are many schools of thought on it. One says it’s allowed up to one hundred and twenty days.
It’s allowed in cases of rape or at any stage when the mother’s life is in danger.
The same can’t be said about the laws of our country.
” He fixes his gaze on Dylan. “We live in a world where all of this information can be so easily found online if you want to know the truth. Ignorance is not an excuse anymore. It’s also weird you look at Jihad to give you answers on topics like this.
You don’t see her asking you to justify what your ancestors did. ”
He’s standing up for me, I realize slowly. It’s such an odd feeling.
Dylan looks like he wants to say something, but Dr. Sinclair claps her hands and all the murmuring quiets down.
Two girls exchange looks, and a few other people look just as confused as I am.
“That was fascinating, but I fear we have strayed too far from today’s topic, so if we could get back on track. ”
It takes a while for the class to settle, but my ears are buzzing. Alexis doesn’t know half the things he said… she’s never bothered to ask. I don’t think I even knew all of that about abortion in Islam.
“You’ve got your own food, right?” Alexis asks while we’re walking to the cafeteria.
I nod.
“Okay, great. If Mason is already there, just sit there with him, but if he’s not, grab us a table, will you?”
I would rather walk barefoot on hot coals than sit with Mason, but I don’t want to create more distance between Alexis and me. “Sure.”
Alexis rounds in front of me so she’s walking backward, and my lips twitch with a smile. “Why are you frowning? You know you look like a tortoise when you frown.”
I scrunch my nose, and she rolls her eyes.
“It’s just been a weird beginning,” I say.
“You’ll get the hang of it.”
I shrug a shoulder.
“Not even with Jamie ‘helping you’” she says with air quotes.
I groan. “Don’t start with that.”
“Why? You should have said you liked him!” She glances quickly toward Nicole, who is a ways ahead. “She’s a bit upset because Jamie never started any conversation with her, but you just got here, and now he has your phone number.”
My ears burn. “It’s not like that. I don’t like him. I don’t know him.”
She goes back to walking beside me. “Pfsh, what does that have to do with liking?”
I stay quiet. I don’t like this conversation. I’m here for one reason and one reason only. This is a means to an end. This is war for me. Hunker down until it’s over.
“Okay, fine. If you don’t like him, then you should tell Nicole.”
Why would I tell Nicole anything? I think. I do not care about Nicole. But my mouth says, “Sure.”
“Okay, stop it with the short answers.” She gives me a look. “I hate it when you do that. I feel like I’m in trouble or something.”
I take in a deep breath, let the warmth I felt from her head on my shoulder earlier spread through the void again and say, “I can’t wait to have lunch and go back to more classes that I only understand about twenty percent of!”
Alexis laughs. “That’s more like it.”
The cafeteria is full, and the delicious smell of the lunch makes my stomach rumble. I don’t have Amal’s cooking to soothe me today, so I packed myself two simple labneh and za’atar sandwiches, an apple, and a juice box.
“Oh, Mason is right there!” Alexis points to the far-left table. “Go, we’ll get our food and join you.”
It would be less painful to chop off my legs than walk up to what looks like the jocks’ table and sit, but Alexis pushes me forward.
I stumble toward them, and the rumbling in my stomach turns into something more acidic. I might throw up any second.
I hope they don’t notice me, but I might as well be an elephant crashing through. Being the only hijabi makes me a beacon here, and not in a good way.
I gingerly sit at the edge of the last seat with my bag in my lap. All five jocks simultaneously turn toward me.
“Oh, Jihad,” Mason says with an easy smile. “You’re having lunch with us?”