women women women

I. Today, in the taxi from Gemmaizeh to Hamra, W. says he's disappointed that all the women in Beirut are so fake. He points at a young hijabi wearing heavy amounts of make-up. D. agrees, saying he doesn't understand the contradiction with the hijabs that are often accompanied with sexy and bright outfits. I think about the many teenage girls and young women who walk up and down Hamra street, shopping bags in hand, sometimes with their mothers, proudly displaying the bandages on their noses that indicate their recent plastic surgeries. Women here have attitude, and they are not shy to display it; after spending a few weeks in Beirut, I can't blame their cold nature as they walk down the street. At times, it seems to get anything done, women have learned they don't have to be unnecessarily nice to everyone.

II. In a conversation with two of the women working at the DS, I learn that they would like to leave Lebanon as soon as possible although they have been living here all their lives. Once she hits 25, it becomes almost impossible for a woman to be single in the country. Pressures to marry from friends and society, if it doesn't come from their families, chase them constantly. These women are ambitious, and apparently Lebanon is no place for ambitious young women. Women comprise 53% of the country's entire population, and it is now that I realize that I have seen old women and college-aged girls. Occasionally I walk into a store owned by females, but it has not been very common. This makes me wonder...where are all the young women?

III. Today I covered a campaign rally on the nationality law. At first I saw only about 8 women, mostly from the NGO hosting the rally, standing with fliers and t-shirts. Ten minutes later, I see a van full of women from South, North and East Lebanon piling out to come join. They are women of all ages, some as young as six, and some as old as seventy-odd years. In Lebanon, as in some other Middle Eastern countries, women who marry foreigners are not allowed to pass their Lebanese nationality onto their husbands or children. This is not true of men who marry foreign women. Not all the women at the rally have married foreign men; some are there to show their support. But they are all frustrated, and they don't understand what real reason the government has not to grant women equal rights. The government is afraid that recognizing their "foreign" husbands and children will significantly change the country's demographics, which does not make sense given that the same right is granted to men. The women at the rally know this. They are angry, not just because their husbands and children cannot get basic services, and not just because these women cannot travel because they would have to leave their families behind. They are angry because they are demanding equal citizenship in a country that will give them cheap plastic surgeries and clothing stores, education and marriage, but few rights.