​Respecting our parents is ever drilled into our psyches. After all, our parents provide for us, take care of us and even shape and mold us; the bond between a parent and a child is of essence. The maternal bond, particularly, is one of the closest bonds between living beings. The umbilical cord signifies a symbolic attachment that neither time nor experience, whether good or bad, can dissolve. Societies revere parents, and filial piety is an integral aspect of our upbringing.
 
But what of toxic parents? How can we respect and honor parents who hurt us psychologically and physically? How can we put an end to verbal and physical abuse? Why is it that in our region of the world child abuse is still not discussed openly? And how come the onus is on a child to transcend his or her trauma? Where is the accountability of abusive parents?
 
When our children grow up in an unhealthy environment, they are deprived of the will to live, the exuberance of a harmonious community, and the right to safety and security. They are deprived of joy and peace and love. Their trauma is discounted because parents are expected to discipline their children, even in a brutal manner. Nobody in our society warns parents that verbal and physical abuse can severely impact the well-being of their children. Children and adults are taught to be secretive about what happens in their homes. 
 
When we vent about our parents, we are told: "No matter what, they are your parents." In addition, we are considered ungrateful and disrespectful if we expose them to others, even if only to release pent up emotions. We are taught to live in silence with parents who beat us into submission and call us stupid, lazy, and naughty. We only realize later that there is never an excuse for abuse. Ever. Sadly, by the time we reach adulthood and grasp the effects of abuse, we are too worn out to transcend our pain. We understand, a little too late, that our depression, our anxiety, our sense of shame is perpetuated by a cycle that is considered normal. After all, our parents want the best for us, right? Our scars, physical and emotional, were (and are), according to their misguided philosophy, for our own good. They "love" us, they are only doing what their parents did to them, they insist when we confront them. And they emphasize that they continued to love their parents, so why are we making a big deal out of "nothing"? 
 
Our society must learn that times have changed. We now know that even a light spanking is wholly unnecessary and can have a detrimental effect on a child. A child should never be touched. A child should not be yelled at. A child should never be afraid of his or her parents. And we are all responsible for the pain faced by a child who grows up in shame and fear, because it is our tacit approval of our parents' abuse and these outdated disciplinary methods that create a weak and sick society. There are too many stories of abuse, so many in fact, that it is normalized in our country. We don't even call it abuse in our society. It is considered discipline. Parents are supposed to hit their children, we think. They have the right to scream at us and call us names. But deep down inside we know it is wrong, because we never speak about it in public. 
 
One particular story which became public, however, is the story of a young Kuwaiti lady, now in her early twenties, who was sexually abused by her father. When she informed her mother—a mother who was supposed to protect her—her mother told her she should have locked the bathroom door. How unfathomable is that? Instead of leaving her husband, she abandoned her role as a mother, she abandoned her child, and she betrayed the duty of maternal protection. And with no laws in place to protect our youth from abusive parents, this young lady had no choice but to leave home and seek asylum in the United Kingdom. Even at a safe distance, her parents threatened her, denigrated her, and continued to emotionally abuse her. Although she has now turned her life around as an activist who helps victims of a system which tends to defend abusers and shame those who suffer at the hands of them, she carries the burden of a horrendous trauma which she must resolve on her own. Yes, she has support from her friends and those who follow her work; but the people she trusted the most in her life have let her down. Her story has inspired a couple of others to leave their toxic families, but the reality of the situation is that the majority of children and young adults in our community remain in the clutches of abuse.
 
Of course, child abuse is a global phenomenon, but in other countries a child has rights. Children are protected by a foster system, parents are taken to court, and there have even been instances when children divorce their parents. It is not disrespectful to our parents when we maintain a safe distance from them. We are actually showing them that love should not hurt. We are putting an end to generational trauma and respecting ourselves. If our lives are in danger, if our emotional welfare is at stake, we owe it to ourselves to cut off ties with those who hurt us. If a parent shows remorse, then we can forgive them; but forgiveness does not mean we have to stay in an unhealthy and toxic environment if it affects our mental health or our physical well-being. Forgiveness does not mean we return to the dynamics we escaped from; it means we understand that some people do not know what it means to be a parent; some people do not understand that a child is a divine gift, a blessing. Only we can know if it is safe to maintain a relationship with a parent or parents or stay far away from them. 
 
Sadly, in Kuwait, most children and adults continue to live with abusive parents, because they either have nowhere else to go, have no financial independence, or they know that if they leave, they will be shunned by other relatives and members of society. And another factor is guilt. We feel guilty being estranged from a family member. When we are raised, when we are conditioned to believe that our role is to remain devoted to our parents regardless, our chances of taking care of ourselves and leaving an abusive environment are limited. But with a legal system that protects us, we can find a way to leave without further turmoil, inner or outer. 
 
As such, we need a legal system which provides a haven for children who have chosen to live a life free of abuse. We need to ensure that kids are protected. We need to give adults who grew up in abusive households more support. We need laws in place to protect those who have been beaten, subjugated, treated with contempt, and sexually abused. Otherwise, we will continue to witness a rise in suicides, an increase in those who seek asylum, an increase in anxiety and depression. And we will continue to witness members of society who walk amongst us scarred and scared. And even worse, those abused may continue the cycle of abuse because it is considered tradition or they know no other way to bring up their children. 
 
The only way to raise a child is with love. Love is the only form of discipline a parent should ever use. In a world of turbulence, our homes should be realms of refuge. Hopefully, one day parents will require a license to raise a child. After all, it is a sacred responsibility to take care of our little ones and to make sure that they are protected, cherished, and treated with respect and care. May love reign in our families. Until then, here's to more people in power who care about our children and who build a vision of a community in which all are protected. 

​This article appeared in Kuwait Times. 

From an ex-MP stating that feminists should be sent to rehabilitation centers to a current MP expressing his discontent regarding the enlistment of women in the military to a local man who claimed that women shelters will dissolve the family unit, it is hard to miss the fact that the patriarchy is feeling threatened by women's prominence in all aspects of society. 
 
The ladies of Abolish 153, Lan Asket, and Soroptomist Kuwait, all notable and laudable local feminist movements, are each using their platforms to dissolve the patriarchy, to change mindsets, and to rid our society of male domination, spousal and financial abuse, domestic violence, honor killings, rape and harassment, voicelessness and intimidation. These movements not only provide women with security and opportunities but give women a platform to express themselves safely and freely. Each of these movements are not only up against a legal system—masked behind layers of red tape and fortresses of bureaucracy—which favors the straight, domineering male, but they also face an uphill climb trying to transform a male-dominated narrative which subjugates women into a gender-equal society. 


And that is what feminism is about. Plain and simple. Feminism is a reaction to millennia of oppression. Because whenever anything on our planet tips the scales too far in terms of power, there will be a reaction, a much-needed reaction, which recalibrates and restores equilibrium. Without such a reaction, violence and oppression will continue to plague us. There's nothing "toxic" about removing toxicity. What is toxic is that a woman cannot give citizenship to her children if her husband is non-Kuwaiti. What is toxic is men telling women what to wear, whether they can go out or work, who they can see, who they can marry. What is toxic is following women home at night or sexually harassing them. What is toxic is raping a woman. What is toxic is beating up a woman, pushing her down the stairs, killing her in the name of honor.
 
For the ego-based patriarchy, the solution to "dealing" with women who speak up is: "Lock 'em up" or "Put them away." To a man of the patriarchy, a feminist is a threat because she reminds him that he can no longer get away with what he has gotten away with for eons. The dominant male ego is frightful when it is about to dissolve. It will do everything to stay in power, even if it means uttering discriminatory statements or attempting to pass legislation bordering on the ridiculous. Power, after all, is a drug. And, like any addictive substance, when the power-drug leaves the system, it can produce overwhelming withdrawal symptoms. Members of the patriarchy are hooked on their power, their control over women, their self-appointed place as regulators. And instead of assuming responsibility for their addiction and how it poisons not only themselves but society, they gaslight women. "Send them to rehab! They are sick, not us!"
 
What is most threatening to such men is that more and more men in our society are speaking out against the subjugation of women. While women (and the men who support them) fight for inclusive rights, patriarchal men fight to keep their rights exclusive. Women want their rightful place in all arenas of society. And if they want to join the army, it is not for a man to decide. As for women shelters, as Warsan Shire puts it: "No one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark." And though Shire was referring to refugees, the quote is as applicable as ever here. Women shelters do not dissolve families. Rape does. Domestic and financial abuse does. Intimidation does. Fear does. And, oh, denial does. 
 
And, finally, if feminism entails protecting women from rape, violence, male aggression, intimidation, fear, harassment, abuse (be it spousal, domestic, financial), then sign us up, women and men. 
 
What are we (Ku)-waiting for?

We are a couple of days away from 2022. And as we plan gatherings and make resolutions, we tend to forget that it is not a happy new year for many people. If each of us in our individual communities focused on resolutions which would transform our respective societies, then happiness would no longer be a pipe dream. Unfortunately, we live in a world in which people with lofty ideals face red tape, bureaucracy, and in the case of Kuwait, an antiquated patriarchy that seems unwilling to relinquish its control.
 
Still, even in our country, there are diamonds in a mine. And such an honorific title goes to the ladies of Abolish Article 153. For almost seven years, they have been pushing against a system which treats honor killings as a misdemeanor, punishable by a maximum imprisonment of three years and/or a fine of 3000 rupees (the equivalent in today's Kuwait dinar is debatable). It is not just the lenient jail term or embarrassingly paltry fine which is disturbing, but the fact that there is an "or" in the article. In short, it is not a crime (but a mere misdemeanor) for a man to kill a woman caught in a sexual act. And if her lover is killed as well, it is still a mere misdemeanor. With a sentence of three years and/or a fine.
 
At the time the initiative surfaced in November of 2014, nobody knew about this article apart from legal experts and parliamentarians. But these ladies changed that. As soon as they launched their campaign, their efforts were lauded. And this praise culminated in the receipt of the 2016 Chaillot Prize for Human Rights in the GCC.
 
By 2017, the Abolish 153 team even managed to persuade five MPs to sign a bill. Since then, there are two bills in place waiting to be passed. Sadly, nothing has come out of either of them (yet). Article 153 remains stubbornly in place—an indication that there are men in power who still believe that women are their property and deserve to be killed, intimidated, abused, or harassed.
 
Many people have wondered aloud why a man's honor is tied to the activities of the women in their family. Wouldn't it be more conducive to our society if people focused on the only honor that matters: one's own honor? And maybe we should redefine honor as being kind and respectful to one another.
 
For now, let us remind everyone that the phrase "honor killing" is a misnomer. And in 2022, let's hope that the lovely ladies of Abolish Article 153 finally achieve their goal. Then, it will be a happy new year for women in our country.

But the work won't be over, as there are many other initiatives which warrant our attention. Stay tuned!

Let's Interheart, Kuwait!

(This blogpost appeared in the Kuwait Times. There is controversy as to whether 3000 rupees is equivalent to KD 14 as mentioned in the newspaper. The blog was updated to take this debate into account, along with a few other minor edits; however, the article, as it appears in Kuwait Times, is the original version prior to necessary updates/edits incorporated in this blogpost). 

A little over a week ago, there was quite the controversy when the US Embassy wished Jews in Kuwait a Happy Hanukkah on Instagram. The Ambassador was trolled by some commentators, and anyone who responded to the message in a spirit of love was verbally abused. Some argued that there are not many Jews in Kuwait, so why would the US Embassy post such a message? The commentators used the message not only to accuse the ambassador of having an agenda, but to attack Jews as a whole. 
 
What is this cringe-worthy fear we have toward Jews? We cannot use the excuse that we don't celebrate the festivities of other religions, because many Kuwaitis love to celebrate Christmas, and a few celebrate Diwali with Hindus. We cannot say we are protecting Islamic principles, because Kuwait is filled with people of all faiths and no faiths. As such, in a country whose heritage prides itself on coexistence, is this who we have become? What a pity. What a loss for us. How heartbreaking for our forefathers, a few of whom were Jews who lived here alongside us.
 
For those of us who are fortunate to have Jewish friends and acquaintances, most of the Jews we know live abroad. This is because Jews who live here do not announce their religion for fear of being ostracized or offending the "sensitivities" of their cousins in religion. Or because they are such a rarity that, as a local Jew once stated, they don't even know about each other. We could be sitting next to a Jew in a café and never know it. 
 
How did we get here? And more tellingly, why are we not ashamed?
 
If we do not want to partake in the religious holidays of Jews, because some of us are, sadly, not ready or have been conditioned to harbor resentment toward them, what is our excuse for the absence of synagogues in our country? Again, if the argument is a religious one, aren't Jews mentioned throughout the Koran as People of the Book? Don't many of the narratives in the Koran stem from the Old Testament and even the Talmud? Don't we share most of the same prophets? If this country claims to follow the Islamic principles, what justifies this blatant discrimination? Isn't the Torah mentioned as a sacred book? In case we have forgotten, here are a couple of examples from the Koran to ponder:
 
"We have revealed the Torah, in which there is guidance and light” (5:44).
"We [sent] Jesus, son of Mary, to follow in their footsteps, [confirming] what had been revealed before him in the Torah. We gave him the Gospel, which contained guidance and light...” (5:46).
 
Also, didn't the Koran say that we were created as races and tribes so that we may know each other? (49:13). After reading the comments on the account, is it possible that the majority of religious people here blatantly ignore (nay, rebel against) this verse? And if people can objectively (or subjectively) find aspects of the faith which do, in fact, discriminate, then why are we not focusing on the parts that do not? We tried the former. It resulted in wars, hatred, and divisiveness. Why can't we focus on what brings us toward coexistence? Isn't it overdue? Way overdue?
 
What if Moses, who Muslims consider as a prophet, lived in our country today? Would we permit him to teach the principles of the Torah? Would we allow him to speak of his religion publicly or announce his beliefs? Most of us would say of course we would, because we hold him in high esteem. Then why are we not respecting his followers or the descendants of Abraham, for that matter?
 
And now, let's take religion aside. There are many here who do not even practice religion, but still hold a caustic hatred for Jews. What is their excuse? Is it politics? If that is the way we think, then why are we judging others for being afraid of us? There are Muslims who have used religion to justify and perpetrate attacks on innocent civilians. Did the world ban mosques? Of course not. In this part of the world, we know what Islamophobia feels like. We know the pain of being punished by people who discriminate against us because of fear. And we have learned, slowly but surely, that a person does not define religion (nor does religion define a person, for that matter). So why do we inflict our pain on others? More importantly: Why can't we rise above discrimination and admit that we, too, are afraid of other religions?
 
All in all, the time has come to set aside fear. One can continue to support Palestine without fearing Jews. Many Palestinians themselves coexist with Jews. And many Jews support Palestine. One can embrace Jews without having a political agenda. This can arise when we are no longer proud of wearing hatred as a badge of honor. 
 
Where has hatred gotten us besides beneath rubbles left behind by bombs, violence and antagonism? Let this desire to be a more open and welcoming society not be a pipe dream. It is our responsibility, each one of us, to become ambassadors of humanity, beyond our belief systems, beyond our political inclinations. 
 
In short, there is no justified reason for the prejudice against Jews. And there is no other time but now to wake up from this stupor of separation. 
 
Now. Let's take the wait out of Kuwait. 

(This blogpost appeared in Fanack).