Page 207 - A Woman Is No Man

Baba and the Forty Thieves, or the Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor, or
even, if she was particularly lucky, the Lovers of Bassorah. She had popped
each movie in the cassette player, giddy with excitement, only to be

disappointed. Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Ariel—none of
those characters were in the stories she’d read growing up. Disappointed,
she had turned off the television and ignored it ever since.
“But I want to see the princesses,” Deya said.
“We’ve seen enough princesses.”
The princesses irritated her now. Those Disney movies, with their love
stories and fairy-tale endings—how could they be a good influence on her

daughters? What would her daughters think, Isra wondered, watching these
women fall in love? Would they grow up believing these fairy tales were
reality, that love and romance existed for girls like them? That one day men
would come and save them? Isra could feel her chest tighten. She wanted to
go into the sala and shred the cassettes, ripping the film from each piece of
plastic casing until they no longer played. But she feared what Adam would

say if he found out, the violent look in his eyes, the questions, a slap
awaiting, and her without an answer. What could she say? That her books
had finally taught her the truth: love was not something a man could give
you, and she didn’t want her daughters thinking it was? That she couldn’t
let her daughters grow up hoping a man would save them? She knew she
had to teach them how to love themselves, that this was the only way they
had a chance at happiness. Only she didn’t see how she could when the

world pressed shame into women like pillows into their faces. She wanted
to save her daughters from her fate, but she couldn’t seem to find a way out.
“Will you read to me?” Deya asked, looking at her with soft, wide eyes,
her fingers clenched around her nightgown.
“Sure,” Isra said.
“Now?”

“I have to make dinner first.”
“But then you’re coming?”
“Then I’m coming.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.” She let go of Isra’s nightgown, turned to leave.
“Wait,” Isra said.

“What, Mama?”