Last week, one of my colleagues asked me if I wanted to get arrested, to which I most vociferously retorted, “YES! I'd LOVE to be arrested!!!”, just as we opened the front door of the head office of our company.
Prior to that, I had been complaining quite loudly about the unfair treatment of women here compared to men. I had been badmouthing Saudi men, in the middle of a shopping mall, much to the chagrin of my two fellow female colleagues, as men's heads were quickly turning in our direction at my loudly audacious public behaviour. And just in case you're wondering, NO, I did NOT get up on the wrong side of the bed.
I had been quite all right just 5 minutes prior to all this madness. The toilet in my hotel room had become blocked just that morning, and as I was waiting for the bus to pick me up for this meeting, I was talking to the manager about it. We happened to be discussing it as the bus pulled up. One of my colleagues on the bus (a mid-Western American) started yelling at me to get on the bus NOW! Now this is what annoyed the living daylights out of me. I concluded my business, and boarded the bus, very pointedly explaining that I had been sorting out the details of having the toilet unblocked. To which she insisted that I would get into serious trouble for standing on the street, talking to a man, if caught by the religious police. To which I retorted that I had been INSIDE the hotel, NOT on the street (thank-you very much!) and were they actually going to throw me in jail for trying to have my toilet unblocked?!
And thus, followed my anti-Saudi men tirade for the next 5 minutes, till we entered the office of the General Director of the company that hired me. The men there didn't know what hit them. We were 3 very angry women, with legitimate grievances (between the long wait for accommodation and office supplies at our workplace – Saudi time, of course). By the time we left, they were attempting to smile and be polite by telling us to pop in again, any time, but you could tell that these offers were made out of courtesy only, while their faces were saying, “Oh God! Please, never again!”
The following day, I had to go and buy some facial cleanser as by this time, my little travel pack was almost empty. Imagine my utter surprise at being faced with a male salesperson (yes, for cosmetics!). It was the first time in my life that I've had to buy facial cleanser from a man, wearing the same white coat that all female beauticians wear, so neatly buttoned up! It was all I could do to stop from laughing at the poor guy. Instead, I proceeded to fight with him. Yes, I know, fighting with men, in Saudi Arabia, again. I refused to accept that he might actually know a thing or two about the difference between the various Clinique product ranges. Really? I wanted to ask him whether he actually uses the product on himself? And how much does he know about a woman's beauty regimen? Does he even understand the difference between cleanser, toner and moisturiser? It really didn't help things when he tried to push moisturiser on me, when I wanted cleanser!!! And so, of course, I found myself almost shouting at this hapless fellow, who just continued to try and sell me foundation next, by squeezing little blobs on my hand. Honestly! And after all this, he then asked me what I use on my hair, how lovely it is, could I give him my number, and “Your husband? Problem or no problem?” To which, I replied, “YES! My husband, problem!” Huh!? For real? You've got a snowball's chance in hell, mister-sister! (I think that must have been the first time that I started referring to Kevin as my husband, instead of as my fiance! So UNromantic!)
And so, after a week of fighting with men, and as many warnings against doing so, I think I am finally calming down. Calmed down, but still refusing to be oppressed and suppressed!
Prior to that, I had been complaining quite loudly about the unfair treatment of women here compared to men. I had been badmouthing Saudi men, in the middle of a shopping mall, much to the chagrin of my two fellow female colleagues, as men's heads were quickly turning in our direction at my loudly audacious public behaviour. And just in case you're wondering, NO, I did NOT get up on the wrong side of the bed.
I had been quite all right just 5 minutes prior to all this madness. The toilet in my hotel room had become blocked just that morning, and as I was waiting for the bus to pick me up for this meeting, I was talking to the manager about it. We happened to be discussing it as the bus pulled up. One of my colleagues on the bus (a mid-Western American) started yelling at me to get on the bus NOW! Now this is what annoyed the living daylights out of me. I concluded my business, and boarded the bus, very pointedly explaining that I had been sorting out the details of having the toilet unblocked. To which she insisted that I would get into serious trouble for standing on the street, talking to a man, if caught by the religious police. To which I retorted that I had been INSIDE the hotel, NOT on the street (thank-you very much!) and were they actually going to throw me in jail for trying to have my toilet unblocked?!
And thus, followed my anti-Saudi men tirade for the next 5 minutes, till we entered the office of the General Director of the company that hired me. The men there didn't know what hit them. We were 3 very angry women, with legitimate grievances (between the long wait for accommodation and office supplies at our workplace – Saudi time, of course). By the time we left, they were attempting to smile and be polite by telling us to pop in again, any time, but you could tell that these offers were made out of courtesy only, while their faces were saying, “Oh God! Please, never again!”
The following day, I had to go and buy some facial cleanser as by this time, my little travel pack was almost empty. Imagine my utter surprise at being faced with a male salesperson (yes, for cosmetics!). It was the first time in my life that I've had to buy facial cleanser from a man, wearing the same white coat that all female beauticians wear, so neatly buttoned up! It was all I could do to stop from laughing at the poor guy. Instead, I proceeded to fight with him. Yes, I know, fighting with men, in Saudi Arabia, again. I refused to accept that he might actually know a thing or two about the difference between the various Clinique product ranges. Really? I wanted to ask him whether he actually uses the product on himself? And how much does he know about a woman's beauty regimen? Does he even understand the difference between cleanser, toner and moisturiser? It really didn't help things when he tried to push moisturiser on me, when I wanted cleanser!!! And so, of course, I found myself almost shouting at this hapless fellow, who just continued to try and sell me foundation next, by squeezing little blobs on my hand. Honestly! And after all this, he then asked me what I use on my hair, how lovely it is, could I give him my number, and “Your husband? Problem or no problem?” To which, I replied, “YES! My husband, problem!” Huh!? For real? You've got a snowball's chance in hell, mister-sister! (I think that must have been the first time that I started referring to Kevin as my husband, instead of as my fiance! So UNromantic!)
And so, after a week of fighting with men, and as many warnings against doing so, I think I am finally calming down. Calmed down, but still refusing to be oppressed and suppressed!
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