Sawt al Niswa | صوت النسوة - Beirut

Things I Hate About Explosions

sawt-al-niswa — Thu, 15 Aug 2013 21:00:00 +0000

Big Explosion

Leila Ghassan

I hate that it takes place, that a complete stranger has this much hate toward another complete stranger, that again and again this place is not safe for all of us, regardless of how annoying a wide percentage of the “us” are, on days where explosions don’t take place.

I hate of how much I realize I’m a coward, and that the first thing I do is run back home, and sit, absorbing the images as they go on TV, realizing that this is too much death to reconcile with, it’s too much violence to forget about, wanting to examine these images again and again, making stories about the random people I’m watching, they are always full of despair and anger. Sometimes their anger seep into this living room, where it often leaves me lonely and miserable. That all of this has nothing to do with me, and that yes, we all are in fact prisoners, and there is no place to run to, or to hide in. That this is the segregation that slowly asserts its presence, and it’s coming for us. It is coming for all of us, to mark each neighborhood as a trap. That it was here and it will move to there and there.

I hate that Marwan Charbel gets to be the superstar of the event, that we are forced to hear him out, as he pretends to be doing something real, and that we have to play along and be angry with him for doing something in pretense. That those who have been fucked up completely and royally by the explosions get TV snippets in which they are made to fit this image of being victims and of us saying haram, that they don’t get enough time to tell us about how this has effected them, or this is how they felt, and this is what it means to be hit by an explosion, that this is how it interrupts your life for good.

I hate that TV stations have no morals what so ever, that all these corporate traits of competing for the “scoop” is so goddamn visible, it becomes the news itself, and so the word “exclusive” is repeatedly said:

“Exclusively we broadcast to you live the hand of a victim X that is on the floor”.

“Exclusively we talk to the dead body of this victim, where you can exclusively see his gut falling apart yet enjoying the moment of having made national TV”.

“Exclusively we are here with an eyewitnesses from the neighborhood who are still in under the effect of trauma and we have an exclusive zoom in to the blood stains covering their face”.

We will exclusively ask this eyewitness “Who do you think hates you this much?”

Fuck this shit to begin with. Fuck these solidarity phone calls of politicians that have killed the sum of those already killed in the explosions multiplied by a 1000 over the course of 25 years and pretty much for the same reasons.

I hate how everyone on Twitter and Facebook is hashtagging racist and chauvinistic tweets, that “people need an explosion like this to remember that they hate violence and sectarianism”.

When suddenly traps become virtual, hashtagging the blame on Syrians because they have a revolution and they are bringing “terrorists” inside this allegedly terrorism-free country.

Hashtagging a fake sense of loyalty to this prison called Lebanon. Hashtaggingpowerlessness that we are all feeling. Hashtagging anything that can divert our attention, we literally have nowhere to go.

I hate that some foreigners start talking about this as if they own it more profoundly than the rest of us. As if they have no exit out anytime tension escalates, when they start quoting Fairuz, asking everyone to stay safe. That it becomes this event where it was “2 service” away from having a near death experience. That it all becomes so simple, why can’t Lebanese people love each other?

I hate that my anxiousness breaks easily after explosions, anxiety that I spend most of my days controlling, and attending to, calming down, struggling to keep at minimum.

I hate that things become trivial, that we are all implicated in this whether we like it or not, and that I don’t know who to blame, and I really need to blame someone.

I hate what comes after explosions. I hate that time doesn’t stand still, that there is not a single way to deal with this, without you having to deal with it in a hurry because you need to show up to work tomorrow.

That you need anticipate a reaction to it (that I need a reaction to it) because anticipation is so tiring.

I hate explosions and what comes after because it gives me a sneak preview to the reality we tend to avoid, that things are so bad right now and death is easy.

I hate that it becomes about taking sides, and really there is no sides to take. It’s either you died in it or you didn’t.

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Activism

Tags:

Featured:

13 Reasons Today Why I Want to #OccupyBeirut

Maya El Ammar — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 11:10:55 +0000

Mozzoom 2010

Samira Koujok

Because only 2.3% of the Lebanese households receive more than 2,000,000 l.l. , putting the rest at jeopardy of surviving the inflation in the country
Because only less than 46% of the population have social security
Because 27% of our youth are unemployed, not to mention underemployment
Because access to electricity now costs half the minimum wage
Because I get refused a job based on my Religion
Because Lebanese Laws still discriminate against women ( no law against violence, no nationality law)
Because sexual and reproductive rights are unrecognized
Because the public space has been privatized by the 2.3% elites and transformed into a heaven only they can enjoy
Because they want to eradicate the sana2e3 park , and to lease most of the Lebanese cedar park to the French companies and bureaucratic municipality
Because people with special needs are considered lesser human beings
Because the arts have become a privilege
Because I am born into a system that creates intrinsically innate thirst to sadistically dominate the other, so why not dominate Beirut.
Simply because I believe in a leaderless resistance and country !

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Tags:

Featured:

march against rape

sara — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 22:00:00 +0000

Sawt al Niswa

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Story

Category:

Video

Tags:

Featured:

Women in Tension Zones

Lamia Moghnie — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 07:45:18 +0000

by Sandy Chamoun 2010

سارة اميلين ابو غزال

I suppose it’s not a secret that parts of Beirut are witnessing or have witnessed in the past year periods of political tension. Regardless if these political tensions were directed “civil” strives, it is important for me to look closer at how these tensions affect the lives of women that are part of the social fabric of these neighborhoods. How do these political tensions, manifesting sometimes in followers of a certain party taking over the streets and even using weapons, leave their mark on women’s lives?

Tariq el Jdedeh and Dahya are two different areas which represent tension zones because they are seen as the spaces in which major sects in Lebanon reside. .

Although the experiences of these two zones can be quite different, yet they intersect on different levels. For example, the Dahya was heavily bombed in the 2006 July war, creating a process of rehabilitation and reconstruction in the area, but also turning Dahya, as a space, a symbol or resistance against Israel. Tariq el Jdedeh’s history is similar to what is Dahya is going through today, In 1982, during the Israeli invasion of Lebanon, Tariq el Jdedeh was one of the most distressed areas in terms of the destruction it experienced, especially around the Arab University neighborhoods and Kola Bridge, due to the presence of the national resistance guerillas in this areas. This has given it the role of symbolizing steadfastness against Israel during that era. Women in living in these zones witness many of these tensions. More than that, they experience them intimately and are deeply affected by them.

And as much as these areas are portrayed as “opposite and different” in the media, the lives of the women who live in both places show many intersections and similarities. In various informal interviews, I see could that how many of these women shared almost the same reality in these “tense” zones. These women have to coexist with men on the verge of a civil war almost on a daily basis. They become more cautious about their interactions with people, especially men from their neighborhoods, and they usually seek approval from the male figures of the family to know how to interact with certain neighbors. These shifts and changes are not stagnant; they are shaped by the level of the tension, and they also require from these women to play the role of the motivator and the supporter of these “revolting” men, to justify behaviors such as using weapons and engaging in “civil” clashes. They are the key witnesses to most of these tensions and their manifestations– whether it is a minor fight or more serious clashes. But they are never in a position to speak about what they witness, even when lives are endangered.

Whether in Dahya or Tariq al Jdedeh, women’s lives are not different at all. Not different at all. The quality of their lives is affected during the same times; their exposure to violence is increasing, and their safety is in the hands of those who claim to protect them, the same people who are actually endangering them.

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Gender-Based Violence

Tags:

Featured:

Women in Tension Zones

Lamia Moghnie — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 07:45:18 +0000

by Sandy Chamoun 2010

سارة اميلين ابو غزال

Tariq el Jdedeh and Dahya are two different areas which represent tension zones because they are seen as the spaces in which major sects in Lebanon reside. .

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Gender-Based Violence

Tags:

Featured:

Ghayri 3adtik Bitzeed S3adtik غيري عادتك، بتزيد سعادتك

Pascale Ghazaly — Sun, 18 Jul 2010 21:00:00 +0000

A promotion video for Nasawiya’s training program “Ghayri 3adtik Bitzeed S3adtik“. The video was made by Joelle Hatem and Abdallah Nasser during the video workshop organized by Sawt Al Niswa 2010.

Joelle Hatem

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Nasawiya

Tags:

Featured:

What's Music Got To Do With It

Pascale Ghazaly — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 21:00:00 +0000

www.maxkeiseronfacebook.com

Maya Mikdashi

The arguments have become familiar. We want to enjoy life; music is not political; dancing should unify us, not divide us. We can’t keep being the sacrificial lamb of the Palestinian cause. Aren't you Lebanese? Are you an Islamist? Don’t you like rock and roll music, coca-cola, and dancing under the stars at open-air raves? Aren’t you for the freedom of expression? Are you (gasp) intolerant?

The questions that the debate whether we, in Lebanon, should join the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions campaign against Israel engenders have nothing to do with liking music, being fanatical, or censorship. The issue is not a band that played a concert in Tel Aviv, had a stopover in Cyprus, and continued on to Beirut. It is not that this same band performed the week the Israeli state attacked a flotilla of peace activists trying to break the criminal blockade of Gaza, an area of land that is home to over 1.3 million Palestinians and has been placed under siege for over three years. The question is not whether or not we can, or should, empathize with Palestinians living within a settler colony. The question is not if we have to be political. The question is: Can we afford not to be political? Can we absolve ourselves of responsibility towards each other as citizens and residents of Lebanon, as Arabs, or as human beings in the name of music and a good time? And if and when we do absolve ourselves of responsibility, what kind of politics are we engaging in? When we surrender politics to the politicians, what are we doing?

The political permeates every aspect of our lives. From the moment we wake up in particular neighborhoods in, for example, Beirut to the moment that our maid brings us our evening snack and puts our children to sleep, we are engaged in politics. This engagement continues as each of us drives in his or her car to locations that are close by, when we pass by the myriad unkempt children and disabled adults standing in highways selling their sadness, maneuver through a security checkpoint in a politician’s neighborhood, and as we sweat in long pants during the hot summer in a failed attempt to avert the unwanted verbal and physical advances of men on the Manara who know they are not accountable to anyone. Politics is about the struggle over life, how we live it, where we live it, who gets to live a livable life, and who gets to live. We are political because we are alive. Depoliticization is a political process, it is a tactic of a power that aims to separate the messiness of shared life into compartments such as “culture,” “government,” “economy,” “personal life,” “government,” and, my personal favorite, “civil society.” Once segregated into neat, independent packages, we are told that our “political” involvement begins, and ends, at the level of government. Depoliticization comes with neoliberalism, an ideology that masks its praxis being claims to be a “way of life.” The idea that Liberalism is a way of life or that it is simply “good values” has historically fueled capitalist expansion, colonialism, and the imperial notion that western history is at once the telos and the unfolding of world history. More recently, neoliberalism has been the ideology driving the perversion of human rights discourse to justify the invasions and occupations of Iraq and Afghanistan, the banning of the headscarf in France, and the reinvigoration of authoritarian regimes in the Arab world.

One does not have to engage in an ideological analysis to see that art, and in this case, music, is anything but apolitical. When U2 announced that it would not play any concerts in apartheid South Africa, they were making a statement. When Elton John refused to heed to the boycott of South Africa and played concerts in that country, he was also making a statement. Playing a concert in an apartheid state is a statement. When international artists perform in Israel after a BDS campaign has been launched and after they have been asked to join it in solidarity with the oppressed, their performance lends legitimacy to a political regime that openly calls for the continued occupation of Palestinian lands, legal and infrastructural apartheid, and the expulsion of indigenous populations outside the state’s borders. Perhaps musicians who play venues in Israel today are ignorant about the political situation. But is ignorance an excuse? Today, people with access to information have to consistently choose to remain ignorant of current events. Furthermore, ignorance about structural oppression, ongoing settler colonialism, and apartheid, is a luxury of power that contributes to violence against those that are not powerful. Neutrality in the face of gross inequality and oppression is the most insidious form of partisanship towards the powerful. Every act of boycott is a statement against the status quo.

Lebanese event organizers who invite artists that perform in Israel are not breaking any laws. But they are making a statement as to the normalization of ties with Israel and they are not supporting the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions initiative. People who want to attend these events are entitled to spend their leisure time however they want. But they too are making a statement as to the normalization of Lebanese ties with Israel and they, too, are choosing to not support the BDS campaign. If the choice for artists is between profiting monetarily from apartheid oppression and making a statement by not performing in Israel, for patrons, the choice is between allowing those who profit monetarily from apartheid to continue to profit monetarily from your own money. The calculations are simple. If enough people decide that they will not patronize performances by artists who also perform in apartheid Israel, either the event organizers will need to cater to this new reality or, imagine, we could actually force international artists to choose to either play in Lebanon or in Israel. Imagine Lebanon being “happening” enough to be a rival of Israel in terms of what is known as the “cultural scene” or the “summer circuit.” Imagine us being more effective than the hollow regimes that rule the Arab Middle East.

When I engage in an act of boycott against DJ Tiesto, I am also making a statement that I refuse to entrust the entire arena of politics, and the question of Lebanon’s relationship with Israel, to politicians that I know are corrupt, sectarian, and inefficient. I am making a statement that I refuse to normalize ties with a state that has invaded my country three times in the years that I have been alive, displaced over a million of my fellow citizens and destroyed tens of thousands of their homes as recently as 2006, and denies the right of return to over 400,000 Palestinian refugees living in Lebanon. I do not have a gun. I do not have a political party. I have a choice; to allow artists who break the boycott to profit from me or not. I make that choice because I cannot accept the logic that my life, or a Palestinian life, is worth less than an Israeli life. I make that choice because I refuse racism and the violence that it licenses.

My decision to boycott musicians who do not adhere to the BDS campaign is not because I am anti- Israel or because I am pro-Palestine. You can blame Palestinians for all of Lebanon’s problems and still take a stance against apartheid. If you are against the logic of racism and its articulation as settler colonialism, then you are also against apartheid. Apartheid is a technology of rule that has been operationalized in many different countries in different historical contexts, and will continue to be operationalized as long as it continues to be normalized. We should be demanding that artists refuse to be complicit in this system. Boycotts work. Today, sixteen years after the fall of the apartheid regime in South Africa, we should not expect less of the world. And we definitely should not expect less of ourselves.

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Activism

Tags:

Featured:

“they will make you, love your self”

Lamia Moghnie — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 08:07:02 +0000

سارة اميلين ابو غزال

Next to Charles El Helou station, a Billboard that can be seen from the high way going to Dawora. According to this bill board, the cosmetic Institute will make women love them selves. This is how symbolic violence works, it shakes the foundation of self esteem.

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Body Image

Tags:

Featured:

Starvex

hiba — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 21:00:00 +0000

Guest Contributor

Lebanese company, Kalastios International, produces (another) 100% natural slimming capsule. And they call it “Starvex” which is a shameless way of saying: “Stay healthy by starving yourself.” Seriously, we have crossed all boundaries of shame when it comes to dieting in Lebanon. My friend Ran thinks they mean to say “ex-starving, i.e. you don’t need to starve yourself anymore.. you can just take this capsule and it will slim you down.” I, on the other hand, think they ripped off “Kleenex” with “Starvex.” They are actually actively encouraging women to starve themselves. What is left to say about this industry in Lebanon?

Publisher:

Sawt al' Niswa

Section:

Opinions

Category:

Body Image

Tags:

Featured: