"Women of flesh and blood also deserve to be loved with less possessiveness and more equality. However, Jerusalem is not a woman. It is a city with a long, long history, in which many peoples have lived and many cultures have teemed. So developed the special character of the city. Whoever is in charge of it should see her/himself as small enough in the perspective of the continuum of the city's history, instead of projecting his (or rarely, her) megalomanic dreams striving for eternity."
-- Hasan-Rokem 54
" " 'Antar is a bitch," said Dr. Hisham with great disappointment.
"You mean she is a female," I tried to correct him.
"That's what I meant," said Dr. Hisham.
"So...?" I said in an irritated, high-pitched voice.
"Do you really want to waste a thirty-dollar vaccine on a baladi bitch?" "
--Amiry 111
"Soon I had a huge collection of books on dogs: All You Want to Know About Your Dog, Admit Sleeping with Your Dog, Loving Your Dog More than Your Husband, Can My Dog Become My Heir?, Cheating on Your Dog, What Breed Is Your Dog? My latest books was Growing Up with a Lesbian Master.
I also subscribed to Bitch magazine."
--Amiry 112
Ok, I just thought that last excerpt from Amiry's Sharon and My Mother-in-Law was really funny. The other two excerpts above, though, get at something deeper in the themes of our discussions. In their very different styles, Hasan-Rokem and Amiry both point out a general misogyny that underlies both Israeli and Palestinian cultures, offering an alternative to the religious and ethnic explanations for dispute-- gender. Now this isn't the first time I've heard sexist applied generally to men from this region (I've actually heard it a lot), but it is the first time I've heard the term extended to encompass a desire to control the land. Hasan-Rokem urges Jerusalemites to be "less blinded by frustrated emotional needs, which can perhaps be better filled in the company of real men and women..." (55). In a sense she asks the city and its inhabitants to accept polygamy and share responsibility. What religions are we dealing with, anyway?
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
A Note on Generalizations
I got to thinking about generalizations about two cups of wine into Saturday night... at the Passover Seder. There is always a good laugh around this time of the evening when the leader of the Seder calls upon each of the "four children" (wise, wicked, simple, and the one who does not know to ask) to question the meaning of Passover in his own way. In this case, my friend's dad called on her older brother first-- "Chad, tell us, what does the wicked child ask?" And so on and so forth.
Now I think I know what the Haggadah (the book used at Passover, describing the Exodus) is getting at with this generalization. Passover is a time of remembrance for older generations, and it is a time of learning for younger ones. This practice of phrasing the question "What is the meaning of Passover?" in four different ways is an exercise in patience and understanding. Children should be encouraged to come into their faith, challenge their faith, and trust their faith, and they should be able to do so in their own individual way.
So in theory I think I understand the lesson. But c'mon, wise, wicked, simple, and stupid? My friend's family uses a customized Haggadah, and on this subject it branched from the old four-child generalization, noting that children are at once all of these characteristics and more. Even the most intelligent child will be left without words. Even the most wicked will be moved to tears.
I guess I have a few points with this story. One is that generalizing is an artifice of ALL story telling, be it religious or secular, Rav Amram Gaon or Karen Armstrong. Another is that we should take this lesson and apply it to each other in class. Of course this is much easier sitting around a dinner table with family, food, and four cups of wine. But I hope that at some point in the discussion we will all allow each other to be every one of the four children, at one point humbled, at one point enlightened.
Now I think I know what the Haggadah (the book used at Passover, describing the Exodus) is getting at with this generalization. Passover is a time of remembrance for older generations, and it is a time of learning for younger ones. This practice of phrasing the question "What is the meaning of Passover?" in four different ways is an exercise in patience and understanding. Children should be encouraged to come into their faith, challenge their faith, and trust their faith, and they should be able to do so in their own individual way.
So in theory I think I understand the lesson. But c'mon, wise, wicked, simple, and stupid? My friend's family uses a customized Haggadah, and on this subject it branched from the old four-child generalization, noting that children are at once all of these characteristics and more. Even the most intelligent child will be left without words. Even the most wicked will be moved to tears.
I guess I have a few points with this story. One is that generalizing is an artifice of ALL story telling, be it religious or secular, Rav Amram Gaon or Karen Armstrong. Another is that we should take this lesson and apply it to each other in class. Of course this is much easier sitting around a dinner table with family, food, and four cups of wine. But I hope that at some point in the discussion we will all allow each other to be every one of the four children, at one point humbled, at one point enlightened.
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