Page 266 - A Woman Is No Man

Isra

Fall 1997

By the time the school year started again, so many weeks had passed since

Sarah had left that Isra was surprised when Adam told her: he was taking
the girls out of public school.
“These American schools will corrupt our daughters,” Adam said,
swaying in the bedroom doorway.
Isra was in bed. She pulled the blanket closer, feeling a sudden chill.
“But the school year just started,” she whispered. “Where will they go?”
“An Islamic school has just opened on Fourth Avenue. Madrast al-Noor.

School of Light. They start next month.”
Isra opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of it. Instead she
sank into bed and disappeared beneath the sheets.

Over the next few weeks, Isra considered Adam’s plan. As much as she
hated admitting it, he was right. She had also come to fear the public
schools, afraid that one day her daughters might follow in Sarah’s footsteps.

Just the other day she had witnessed Deya waving goodbye to the boys on
her school bus! It had made her rigid with terror, and she had yelled at
Deya, called her a sharmouta. Deya’s face had crumpled, and Isra had been
overcome with shame ever since. How could she call her daughter—a
seven-year-old child—such a dirty word? What had she been thinking? Her
head ached, and she tapped her forehead against the window to relieve the
pain.
It was shame that made her do it, Isra thought now, shame at being a

woman. Shame that made her abort her most recent pregnancy. She hadn’t
told anyone that she had gotten pregnant last month, not even Fareeda, who,
in the midst of grieving Sarah, still found energy to remind her that Adam
needed a son. But there had been no need to tell: Isra had not planned to
keep the baby. As soon as the white strip turned red, she had stood at the

top of the staircase and jumped off, over and over again, pounding on her