Broken Girl

written by: Jaded Saudi
(the original version: title has been corrected with Violation which was the first Broken Girl)

She woke up that morning feeling like something bad was awaiting her, these senses never let her down in the past, she had this undeniable gut feeling about things. She got out of bed, wishing she could snooze for ten more minutes, hopped in the shower and started getting ready for class.Her day began later than usual, and she was running late for class. She had to stop at Starbucks for a cup of coffee, she never could really manage to start any day without her coffee, and she was especially going to need it today.

The day was running smooth and she really enjoyed her gym class, when she was walking out her phone rang, it was her friend and she wanted to know if she would like to have dinner with her and her family, the girl thought of nothing better to do so she agreed. “Great, see you at 6:00 then” she said.

The girl went home after class hoping she could find enough time to hop in the shower after her long work-out session. She got ready and dressed appropriately for the occassion. Or so she thought.

She walked down stairs and was heading to the door when she noticed he was eating pizza and watching TV.

“Hey, I’m going over to (her friends name) for dinner, I’ll be back in a few hours.” She said.

“What?” He said, “What time will you be home exactly?”

“Well, it’s 5:45 now so I’m guessing around 8:30.” She replied.

“8:30 you say? Well, I’ll be here waiting for, and you better be here on the dot.” He said back to her.

She glanced at him for a second, deciding to walk away from what she could tell was going to be a nasty fight, she headed for the door.

“What the hell are you wearing?!” He suddenly said, eyeing her jeans.

“A t-shirt and jeans.” She replied, “Why? Do you have something against it?”

“Yeah, I have a lot against it actually. No sister of mine is going to go out dressed like a whore!!” He shot back.

“A whore? Last time I checked whores don’t wear jeans and t-shirts. I don’t see anything whore-ish with what I’m wearing.” She said to him, as calmly as she could manage.

He gave her the sharpest look he could manage, got up slowly and said, “get your ass upstairs and change your clothes”.

Now as they stood eye to eye she said, “I’m not going to. I don’t see anything wrong with what I’m wearing, if you have a problem with it I suggest you call Dad and explain it to him.”

The rage from her words over took him, he shouted and attacked her. Both his hands were around her neck and she was up against the wall. She tried stopping him but she couldn’t, she was built small, and although took much pride in her self-defense techniques, she was completely helpless. She couldn’t breathe, black and white spots started flashing in front of her and before she knew it she was on the ground and he was on top of her, with his hands still firmly around her neck.

She was finally able to get loose of his grip. She got to her knees as quickly as possible, grabbed her phone and ran to the door and into the street. Once she was across and far enough away, she hysterically started pushing buttons. She didn’t know who to call, and instinctively dialed 9-1-1. Drowning in her own tears she explained to the operator what happened, when the operator asked what her address was the girl hesitated. Her father’s image flashed in front of her eyes, and she knew he wouldn’t understand. “No, no. I made a mistake. I don’t need help. I’m sorry for calling, I’m Okay.” She said to the operator. “Ma’am, you’re not okay! You’re brother just tried killing you. Now please give me your home address.” Replied the operator. And the girl gave it to her.

She slowly walked back to the house and sat on the stairs, her brother wasn’t far away and he said, “Dad’s going to love this, you think anyone who matters will believe a word you say? We’ll see who comes out of this mess with a clean slate. Shh.. don’t even talk, the police will be here in a few minutes.” Minutes later she heard pounding on the door. Three uniformed police officers came into the house. After explaining everything that happened she saw her brother placed in handcuffs and escorted to the county jail.

“Oh my God, what have I done?” She thought to herself. Is this my fault? That was a question soon answered by her father.

Her father called her in hysterical rage, blaming her, hating her. Making her completely responsible for what took place. “But he hurt me!” She tried pleading with him. “Shut your filthy mouth!” He spat back.

Her brother, with the help of the best lawyer in town, beat all charges and his slate was wiped completely clean. And the girl, as far as her family was concerned, was blamed for everything. Just as her brother predicted. Good women do as their told, after all. No?

© COPYRIGHT JADED SAUDI 2005

Violation

written by: Jaded Saudi

It was a blazing hot summer’s day in Riyadh. I was sitting on the playground with my best friend gazing at the mirage (yes, it was so hot there that there was a mirage under the swing set), when my friend finally looked up at me and said: “Sarrah, there’s something I need to get off my chest.” I was shocked and had a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach that this was going to be bad. “What is it?” I said. Tears started forming in her eyes and she began to tell me what was most likely the most difficult and private thing she’d ever told anyone. My friend and I were 10 years old at the time, and what she told me overwhelmed me, and in a lot of ways prepared me for many similar horrible stories that would take place throughout my teenage years. She was innocent and angelic, and on one horrible night she was stripped of her childhood virtuousness. Her father had a problem with binge drinking, locking himself in his room for days with Johnny Walker as his only company. One night he crept into his 10-year old daughter’s bedroom and did the unspeakable to her. His own daughter.

A few years passed and we never spoke of it. It was too painful for her, and she denied to herself that it ever happened and simply remembered it as a bad dream.

Over years I have to come to know many full-blooded Saudi girls, who in one way or other, been violated by a male member of their family. I once brought it up for discussion in the presence of a very respected religious scholar and he completely denied anything of the sort existed in our society, and more or less called me a liar. Hundreds of girls are molested in Saudi Arabia everyday, and our society will never admit to it, so in the long run, the girls end up feeling like it was their fault, or worse, they start to think that it’s normal.

How can a society that prides its dedication to Islamic law, shari’a, allow such cruelty and indecency to happen? I know that girls are molested just as much as other places, like the United States for example, but at least in the U.S if the girl has the courage to act, she can seek help and refuge through many different organizations. In Saudi, the law and the society are so afraid to touch on subjects such as these that have to do with family name and pride.

I pray daily for the health of all these children and women, and wish I could do more so this much needed support could be recognized.

When will Arabs stop thinking about culture and pride and start thinking about humanity, and the right for a woman to feel safe in her own home?

“A religious man is a person who holds God and man in one thought at one time, at all times, who suffers harm done to others, whose greatest passion is compassion, whose greatest strength is love and defiance of despair.” Abraham Joshua Heschel

© COPYRIGHT JADED SAUDI 2005