Page 253 - A Woman Is No Man

father had when the soldiers snatched their home, trying to preserve their
family honor. And for what? Now he had no honor left.
What had made them leave their country and come to America, where

something like this could happen? Something like this. Fareeda’s mouth
dried up as she asked herself this. Would their daughter have disobeyed
them, disgraced them, had they raised her back home? So what if they
might have starved? So what if they could’ve been shot in the back crossing
a checkpoint, or blown up with tear gas on the way to school or the
mosque? Maybe they should’ve stayed and let the soldiers kill them.
Should’ve stayed and fought for their land, should’ve stayed and died. Any

pain other than the pain of guilt and regret.
In her bedroom, Fareeda couldn’t sleep. Her mind raced the moment her
head hit the pillow, thinking about her past, her children. About Sarah. Had
she failed as a mother? Some nights, she managed to convince herself she
hadn’t. After all, hadn’t she raised her children the same way her parents
had raised her? Hadn’t she taught them what it meant to be tough, resilient?

Hadn’t she taught them what it meant to be Arab, to always put family first?
Not to run away, for goodness sake. She couldn’t be blamed for their
weaknesses. For this country and its low morals.
Fareeda knew it did no good to worry about things she couldn’t change.
Her mind turned to Umm Ahmed, who had become a shell of her old self,
blaming herself for Hannah’s death, thinking she could’ve stopped it
somehow and saved her daughter. Privately Fareeda disagreed. If Sarah had

come to Fareeda as a married woman and said, “Mama, my husband beats
me and I’m unhappy,” would Fareeda have told her to leave him, to get a
divorce? Fareeda knew she wouldn’t have. What had Umm Ahmed been
thinking?
Fareeda knew that no matter what any woman said, culture could not be
escaped. Even if it meant tragedy. Even if it meant death. At least she was

able to recognize her role in their culture, own up to it, instead of sitting
around saying “If only I had done things differently.” It took more than one
woman to do things differently. It took a world of them. She had comforted
herself with these thoughts so many times before, but tonight they only
filled her with shame.