Page 164 - A Woman Is No Man

“A bad day? Are you kidding me? You know domestic abuse is illegal
here, right? If a man ever put his hands on me, I’d call the cops right away.
It’s one thing for our parents to hit us, but after marriage, as a grown

woman?”
Isra kept her gaze averted. “Husbands beat their wives all the time back
home. If a woman called the cops every time her husband beat her, all our
men would be in jail.”
“Maybe that’s the way it should be,” Sarah said. “Maybe if our women
stood up for themselves and called the cops, their husbands wouldn’t beat
them.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Sarah,” Isra whispered. “There is no
government in Palestine. It’s an occupied country. There’s no one to call.
And even if there was a police, they’d drag you back to your husband and
he’d beat you some more for leaving.”
“So men can just beat on their wives whenever they want?” Isra
shrugged. “Well, that’s not how it works in America.”

A flurry of shame ran across Isra’s body as Sarah stared at her, wide-
eyed. She looked away. How could she make Sarah understand what it was
like back home, where no woman would think to call the cops if her
husband beat her? And even if she somehow found the strength to stand up
for herself, what good would it do when she had no money, no education,
no job to fall back on? That was the real reason abuse was so common, Isra
thought for the first time. Not only because there was no government

protection, but because women were raised to believe they were worthless,
shameful creatures who deserved to get beaten, who were made to depend
on the men who beat them. Isra wanted to cry at the thought. She was
ashamed to be a woman, ashamed for herself and for her daughters.
She looked back up to find Sarah staring at her. “You know Adam
drinks sharaab, right?”

“What?”
“Seriously, Isra? You haven’t noticed that he comes home drunk most
nights?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was sick.”
“He’s not sick. He’s an alcoholic. Sometimes I even smell hashish on
his clothes when we do the laundry. You’ve never noticed the smell?”
“I don’t know what hashish smells like,” Isra said, feeling stupid. “I

thought it was just the smell of the city on him.”