A Grim Anniversary

On September 12, 2001, I remember one of my friends calling me and saying, "I want to find out what country did this so we can go erase it." At the time, such a comment didn't seem too brutal, insane or even hyperbolic. (Part of this feeling is what led me to re-enlist in the National Guard in October of that year.) But this feeling of need for retribution, over the ensuing months, gave way to a feeling of wanting a new approach.

It was pretty easy to see, after a short while, that we weren't dealing with a conventional war of one country against another. The attacks came from a network of individuals operating in the shadows, no longer attached to a nation and funded by wealthier individuals and organizations with sometimes disturbing financial ties to Western countries and corporations. In HBO's TV series "The Wire", a show about Baltimore's drug war, Detective Lester Freamon says, "You follow drugs, you get drug addicts and drug dealers. But you start to follow the money, and you don't know where...it's gonna take you." Unfortunately, we didn't see the "War on Terror" in this light and over the last ten years we have seen the cost.

We lost 2,977 people on September 11th. But since then, 6,011 American soldiers have died in Iraq and Afghanistan. Over 100,000 Iraqis have died from our invasion and from the subsequent violence (it is hard to get an accurate number on this). Over 50,000 people have died in Afghanistan (these numbers's are unclear as well). Around 2000 Pakistanis have died from unmanned drone attacks. And another 500 coalition soldiers from 28 different countries have been lost as well. However, after all this death, we know very little about how such attacks are funded and one shudders when one thinks of how many more enemies have been created through our destructive actions and policies.

So, on the day after the death of Osama Bin Ladin, as I look at photos of people celebrating in the streets and hear everyone around me talking excitedly about the news, it's hard to feel what they feel. To be honest, I feel numb and I wonder what we, as a country, have learned from this experience.

Why Egypt Only Gives Me Hope

It's been hard to turn away from the events in Egypt over these last few weeks. I had been to Egypt in January 2009 and 2010 and several times I had walked through Tahrir Square to get to the American University in Cairo to go to our conference during my fellowship's mid-year meeting. (This year I heard that the conference was cancelled and that some fellows had to be evacuated from Cairo back to their respective countries.) For me, Tahrir Square was simply a bustling traffic circle that was quicker to walk through than to suffer in a hot cab. To see it so suddenly transformed into the modern symbol of the human need for democratic rights much like the Bastille in Paris or those Tea Ships in Boston or the Wall in Berlin, was surreal and inspiring.

But what was more inspiring was what I knew of the people who were protesting. I have been appalled at much of the commentary I have heard in the news these past couple of weeks. And not just from the most obvious commentators like Sean Hannity and Glenn Beck, but contributers to MSNBC as well. It seemed that the instant it seemed possible for this protest to have some effect, the handwringing over a new Iran or other kind of violent fundamentalist "Islamist" "jihadist" regime began. Only a few reporters seemed to actually take the opportunity to talk to the actual protesters and hear why they were there and what they hoped for the future of Egypt.

I'd like to introduce my readers to one such protester. Her name is Nourhan Ahmed. She is a senior in high school in Alexandria, Egypt. I met her in Beni Suef during a two-day camp for the Access English program the U.S. Embassy in Egypt hosted. Of all the students we worked with during those camps, Nourhan was by far the most out-spoken with her ideas for programs to better her community and the lives of the fellow students we worked with. During the camp, I also had the pleasure of talking with Menna Bassiouny, Nourhan's best friend. These two young women embodied so much optimism and ambition that I could only see bright things for Egypt's future.

During the protests, Nourhan and I corresponded heavily and I watched her and Menna's mood go up and down as the country went through its audacious, inspiring, frightening, discouraging and ultimately miraculous transition. When it was all over, I had the pleasure of getting a long essay from Nourhan that explained her experience. That is what follows.

Nourhan's is only one of many stories, but I can tell you that even Egyptian friends of mine that were at first against this revolution are now congratulating those who did it and not one of the people I know there or that I have seen on TV is talking of Shari-a Law or Jihad against the west. So I hope you will read her words and use them to challenge the fear that is sometimes portrayed in our news.

I will let Nourhan take it from here:

Mission Accomplished
by Nourhan Ahmed on Sunday, February 13, 2011

Friday, January 28th was my very first time to ever march the streets. Before I went, I thought I might be the only one going, and if not the only one, then perhaps the only girl. I was both anxious and scared – "will people really go?" "Can Egyptians actually sacrifice their security and come protest?" I mean I knew people were marching in Cairo, but the words “demonstration” and “Egypt” sounded unrelated to me. I actually had to read the newspapers twice to check that I hadn't mis-understood. Early in the morning, I tried to check the event page on Facebook, but there was no internet at my house. I tried calling some friends to ask for more exact details, but my cell phone's network was also not available --I felt disconnected; I was angry, especially when I knew that it was the government that blocked any access. I just thought that was it – I must go alone and see for myself.

On the way, I watched carefully from the car and waited with bated breath to see signs of flags. At first, I saw nothing but countless police cars, until I came near The Alexandria Library. At this moment, I felt I must be dreaming, but my dreams about change have never been that amazing. It was the biggest crowd of people I had ever seen. Everyone started marching passionately; It was all a bit unreal at the beginning. I knew exactly what I was there for – to say no to dictatorship, no to emergency law, no to Mubarak and his government, and many other no's— but it was just all too big for me to grasp and believe. I too started marching, screaming, and holding the flag, I thought to myself "can this really be Egypt’s tipping point?" At this moment, nothing could stop us, even when the police used tear gas. I never felt stronger, better, or more Egyptian. We were excited, not afraid; confident, not dismayed, and so hopeful.

When I returned home and was again in my room, I started to hear more and more gunfire from outside and started to smell tear gas. Before we could even wonder about the exact source of these noises, we heard some neighbors screaming and asking for help and a doctor. "They shot him!" someone screamed. Seconds later, we were all coughing from the smoke coming from the nearby police station. We learned that, after many clashes with the police, and after the police had used guns against them, some people had set fire to it. It was unbelievably terrible. Unfortunately, the same scenario happened all over Egypt, and by nightfall most police stations and some of the national party headquarters were burned. Things were happening so fast that there was absolutely no room –or voice- for questions. "Blood, gun fire, and burning…Am I in Afghanistan?" I asked myself.

After a very long and hectic day, President Mubarak’s address showed us that our voices had not yet been loud enough. He only changed the government and had somehow ignored the million voices calling out for changes in the constitution and emergency law, and more importantly, the big demand of wanting him to leave. His stubbornness pushed us, whom the government was now calling the "Facebook Generation", to persist and be even more determined. I must admit though that the government was supportive in proving us right as it continued blocking all internet service throughout Egypt – leaving us all sadly isolated, but unwaveringly resolute to keep on.

On Saturday evening, frightening stories about the release of prisoners uncontrollably spread through the media, and gangs, on motorbikes and in cars, started roaming the streets, and robbing supermarkets, malls and houses. At this point, there were no police at all in the country, no fire departments, and no one to call for help in such a shocking emergency – even most of the young men were out in protests and thus were unable to help. Now, that was real turmoil; hearing nothing but screaming and crying and unknown gunfire. Everyone was terrified. Now, that was the scariest moment of my life.

However, mosques around Alexandria started calling on young men over loudspeakers. All the women started calling their sons and husbands to leave the protest and come protect us. It was amazing. This was the real Egyptian spirit I was pining for – not just marching the streets, not just standing up and saying no when it is hard - but actually standing up all night armed with guns, clubs or knives ready to protect ourselves from anyone who dares to come and attack our neighborhood. The scene from my balcony was never more incredible.

People organized themselves into groups: some went to the protest again, others protected my neighborhood's borders, and others simply organized a campfire and made cakes. Nobody slept the whole night – we literally turned the street into a park for camping and football; we knew we were in danger, but we just wanted to be happy and really protect ourselves till the very last point… My best friend Menna called to joke that Mubarak probably did not understand our modern Arabic, for he has not been inside of Egypt for quite some time.

That night, one man told me, "(Mubarak) ordered the police to let prisoners escape, hoping we would stop marching and go protect our homes. Then, he used hired thugs and told them to attack us … but we won't stop until he leaves!" After that our protests just grew bigger and tenser; "leave… now!" we said in all languages hoping he'd get the message, but apparently we still had not found the language he understood.

On Wednesday, Mubarak finally spoke for the second time and promised that he would not run for a new term as president. This time, his speech was so eloquent and expressive that some of my neighbors, who originally opposed him, earnestly shed tears. My grandmother cried. Egyptians are emotional by nature and because his speech was so emotional, I believe that is why some went out to support him the next day. They were really charmed by his speech.

At this point, we were running out of cash and food, and some were not ready to take the risk of giving up their previous so-called "stability", not to mention the increasing fear of having the army inside of the country and living under a curfew. "We are tired… we want Mubarak; we want our secure lives back," my neighbor said.

But was she right? If Mubarak did not intend to run for a new term, why did he not say this in his first speech? If our national channels were really honest about the Muslim Brotherhood taking over, why did I see many secular people and Christians marching? Why, when members of the Muslim Brotherhood tried to take over the protest, did we scream at them and ask them to step down immediately? (Which they did). And why also were there anti-Mubarak rap and dancing? (Things the Muslim Brotherhood wouldn't approve of)

If our government is the most democratic, why could we not get access to internet and why were our phones disrupted? If our police are nonviolent, why did I smell tear gas and why were people killed and wounded? If Mubarak dismissed the government, appointed a new vice president, promised constitutional reforms, and even promised not to stand for re-election, why did we continue our marching against him?

The answer is simple: We lost trust. We had been waiting for years for the government to make changes, but were repeatedly disappointed. This time we: poor and rich, Christian and Muslim, man and woman, young and old, finally left our houses in the hope of making a concrete difference and screaming out "game over!"We faced many obstacles, from food to personal safety to chaos, that might have hampered our efforts and even torn Egypt apart, but these obstacles just created a closer-knit community and a deeper aspiration to continue to say "No! We’ve had enough!"

Egypt was dead before this; now we were talking; writing, arguing... disagreeing... we could offend and get offended - this was democracy. During these days of persistence, I lost all focus on my studies. I could only think of nothing but marching and arguing and screaming, “Leave, Leave.” On the Wednesday, February 9 protest, I held up a sign that said: “Mubarak, please leave soon…I have physics and biology to study.”

But, on February 10, my humor faded. The day before, Mubarak had rejected our demands again and I started to feel guilty from the tons of Facebook statuses people were writing about how wrong we were to march. I grew so depressed, I stopped my emails and Facebook and phone and was going to pack and leave to my grandmother's house where there was no internet or phone or any one to make me feel guilty about my ideas. People around me were pushing against me so hard, that I started to doubt and re-consider all my actions. Someone told me I was an "American spy" while others said we were the reason for the killing of innocent people. Another woman simply screamed at me to stop!

On the morning of February 11, I felt suffocated and couldn’t find anyone to talk to. There was a crazy mood in the air. Everyone around me was scared and nobody was talking. I couldn’t study and I couldn’t get my mind off what was happening. Some of my friends were in Tahrir square and I was worried for them. My father insisted I not leave the house and I felt torn and confused as I read about the terrible economic situation. However, I decided to leave the house one more time, because I knew I would be psychologically sick if I stayed in that situation. Mostly I wanted to believe that I was doing the right thing for my country.

Then it happened. He resigned! The only thing I could do was shout “Congratulations! I love Egypt! I love Egyptians. I love us! We made history!” My best friend, Menna and I went and celebrated for three hours. We walked all the way home from the celebration to our houses, sang, and held the flag and danced. Egypt was all awake and happy and everyone (even those who said we were wrong) was excited. It was a new birthday for a brand new Egypt.

I can only think of a modified version of Gandhi’s quote to express what has happened in my country. First they ignore you, then they listen but pretend they don’t understand, then they fight you, then they try to kill you, then they ask you to negotiate—and finally YOU WIN!


Photo: (from left to right: Menna Bassiouny and Nourhan Ahmed)

Life Inside the Turkey

I've been here in Trabzon for three months now and so far things have gone fine. I haven't learned much Turkish or traveled too much locally but I have done some good work in my department.

I started a club called the English Outreach Club where students in my department go around to local high schools to promote scholarship opportunities sponsored by the embassy. We accomplished recruiting three students and a teacher to go to the states for two weeks this winter and we have built a lot of interest for future programs.

Other than that, we have done a Campus Cleanup and have more planned for the coming months and we are currently working on reorganizing the English Department's library.





Next semester we'll be doing much more as we have a Children's Day and High School Teacher Workshop planned. I'll let you know what happens.

So life in Turkey:
The food in Turkey for the most part is good. They eat a lot of meat here, especially lamb. They also make good use of eggplant, serving it in a caserol with tomatoes and other various items. Although they drink a lot of tea here, it can't hold a candle to the tea in Taiwan. But, for the most part, Turkey is a comfortable place with regard to eating (for those that have lived overseas, you know how important that is).

I have done some travel here. So far the best things I have seen are:

Sumela Monastery, which is near Trabzon and is home to some beautiful frescoes. Many of them have been defaced by young non-Christian nationalists, but Turkey for the most part respects Christian history and has made many sites into state museums.





The Aya Sofia in Trabzon. The Aya Sofia in Istanbul is much more famous and is a grand site to see, but it is crowded and constantly has scaffolding. The one in Trabzon is smaller and one can convince oneself that they are standing there in the 13th century when Christianity held a more profound meaning than it does today.

The Mevlana Temple in Konya. Aaron will be interested in this as he introduced me to the poet Rumi back in 2001. I got to see his burial casque and take in the Sufist decor.




Sufism is the mystical strain of Islam. Most religions do what they can to strangle their mystical portion (Christianity is most famous for this) but Turkish muslims have respect for Rumi and the Mevlana Festival (whirling dervishes).




It was great to see a 750 year old tradition alive and well. Here is an excerpt of Rumi's poetry:

There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street
and being the noise.
Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.
Close both eyes to see with the other eye.

Wouldn't it be nice if all obtuse fundamentalists from all religions took that advice.

Finally, the ruins at Ephesus. I hate when people automatically use the word "amazing" upon returning from a trip or eating some kind of food, but Ephesus is truly impressive. It's the site of an ancient Roman city and has never been lived in since that time. Hence, you can stand in places and picture what it was like intead of having a Starbuck's juxtaposed to confuse matters. I highly recommend going during the winter or early spring. We were there on a sunny day (I walked around in a t-shirt) and there were no crowds. Kellie, the landscape looked just like San Luis Obispo.





As far as my daily life, I get up each morning and walk to my department with a nice view of the black sea.



During the week I teach five classes of 40 to 50 students each where we read and discuss literature.... (I taught As I Lay Dying, Matt. My students all call it "Zaladine" after I told them your story.)....and do various Conversation activities. Currently my students are working on 12 seperate films.

Besides work I spend my free time watching MSNBC on my computer as well as The Daily Show. I've been bad lately about eating chips and drinking Coke, but I think a lot of my bad habits and wasted time has been a manifestation of culture shock and indecision about my future. But that is changing.

I've decided to stay here for another year. I will go to Taiwan this summer for six weeks and then to Washington D.C. for two. After that I'll be driving around the states for two more weeks and then fly back to Turkey before I lose my tax-free status for the year. I'll continue my work here until Spring 2010 and then I'll probably go back to Taiwan again. After that, I'll probably settle in Sacramento for two years where I will teach some, but spend most of my time studying film and making movies. I plan to start film school in Fall 2012 unless major life changes interfere.

So, for now, I'm alive and well in Turkey and as usual I have a lot of dreams and plans. I have just returned from my trip to Konya and Izmir and on January 24, I will fly to Cairo for a conference and then go to Antakya (Antioch) in southern Turkey where I will get to see Christian mosaics and catch a swim in the Mediterranean. While in Cairo, I plan to meet with my friend Scott to talk about our plans to start a non-profit called "Student Film Excahnge." More on that later.

Happy Holidays to all of you. I will be off the radar this week as I attempt to catch up on work, but feel free to comment on the blog and talk to each other.

Good Neighbors

I saw a great decription of the domino effect of the Mumbai attacks on Rachel Maddow's show. It's frightening to see what is at stake here and to see just how precarious these international balancing acts can be.

I've been thinking a lot about Pakistan and India today because of one of my students who is doing her thesis symposium on Robert's Frost's "Mending Wall."
Here's the poem:

"Mending Wall" by Robert Frost

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

Robert Frost's poems are incredibly nuanced and therefore subject to myriad interpretation but let me offer one here:

In 1947, the newly independent India partitioned itself into India and Pakistan in order to give its Muslim minority a country of their own. Perhaps you remember the scene in Gandhi of droves of Hindus and Muslims passing each other along the Pakistani border as they leave their respective homes.

Since then we have seen various wars and a continuing tension between Pakistan and India, now two nuclear powers.

Although these countries have differing religious majorities who had a past of violent conflict when part of the same country, this separation has not done anything to ameliorate that conflict. And now, instead of individuals not liking neighbors they know, you have entire nations distrusting "those people" across the border. Good fences make good neighbors?

When we look at many of the international conflicts around the world, we see so many examples of once coexisting ethnicities or religious groups now living on the other side of fencelines.

Jews and Muslims used to live together throughout Palestine and now we have neverending paranoia and violence.

Greeks used to live in Turkey and Turks lived in Greece. However, in 1923 two million of these people exchanged places. Now, instead of a healthy ethnic population in each country contributing to increaing cultural empathy, Turkey considers Greece one of its greatest enemies.

Probably the most obvious example of a wall dividing people is the Berlin Wall. For decades we witnessed hair trigger distrust between people speaking the same language and sharing the same religion. Then, when the wall came down, we saw an immediate warm embrace between once-curtained neighbors.

Frost in his poem is arguing that these walls and divisions we build only increase our distrust of others. In the middle of the poem, he writes:

"Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence."

Frost is arguing that when we put up these walls or increase national "defense" spending or talk disdainfully of "those people" we need to take a second and look at ourselves. Are we putting up this wall to protect ourselves from the violence and distrust coming from across the fenceline or are we putting up the wall because we know our own tendency toward violence and distrust and are projecting it onto our neighbor? If we mean no harm towards them, why are we so quick to believe that they mean great harm to us?

It's worthy of note that in Antakya, Turkey (also referred to as the Hatay region) Muslims, Jews and Christians live and have lived for centuries peacefully in the same community and many of them claim this peaceful coexistence as a point of pride.

Although building walls is often a quick fix for stopping or abating violence as recently evidenced in Sadr City, Iraq, the long result is a creation of unfamiliarity and foreignness among people who once knew each other. This leads to abstract nationalism and the willingness to watch bombs killing "those people" on green screens on CNN.

What are we walling in and to whom next are we like to give offence?


Now for that Rachel Maddow video. Wait through the Robert Gates news. The Pakistan analysis follows:

A New National Holiday

I have an idea about how to increase voter turnout for future elections because, let’s face it, we will never see what we saw in 2008 again. This year was unprecedented in the number of reasons it gave voters to get off their couch and out to the polls: An unpopular presidency fresh in voters’ minds. A terrible economic crisis. Glass ceilings to be broken. Charismatic populist figures. Tooth and nail competition in the primaries. And a cornucopia of silly stories invading pop-culture. No, never will we see another one quite like this.

But wouldn't it be wonderful to see voter turnout and citizen participation surpass the precedent set by 2008? Imagine a country where, even on humdrum midterm election years, people swarm the polling places excited and informed on the issues.

I heard a touching story after this year’s election. It was a father describing his experience voting for Obama in Virginia. He said he went into the voting booth with his son and, after he made his initial selections and the machine switched to the confirmation screen, he turned to his son and said, “You go ahead and push it. I want you to see what it feels like to vote.” For that boy, his first vote was a profound moment between father and son that he will probably never forget. When he comes of age, he will be a lifetime voter.

There’s only one way to promote that kind of enthusiasm on a national level? We must have a voter’s day off. We could call it “Voting Day” or “Democracy Day” or very simply “Election Day,” but, instead of people rushing to the polls after work or negotiating their lunch schedule to vote, they would just be off and free to go to the polls.

Now, there is a risk that having an Election Day holiday would just encourage people to sleep all day or turn it into an excuse for heavy drinking like most other holidays, but not if it's packaged correctly.

Election Day would not just be a day off to vote. It would be a celebration of Democracy. Weeks before the event, we would build it up in the schools and on network and public television by reviewing all the various sacrifices people made in America and abroad for that simple right to vote. We would promote informed voting by publishing and broadcasting objective information on the issues and candidates. (Frontline’s quadrennial program “The Choice” is a good model for this). Finally, there would be no “Election Day Sales.” Instead businesses would close like on Christmas or Thanksgiving to allow their employees to do their own voting and celebration of democracy.

On Election Day, we would put on our best clothes. We would attend solemn ceremonies and reflect quietly on the importance and legacy of that day. We would take our kids to parades and see old veterans, girlscouts, boyscouts, and civil rights and other activists marching together in solidarity. But mostly we would vote.

Lines of people would form at the polling places. People would smile and chat and try to convince their neighbors as they stood with their family in the sun, the rain and the snow waiting for their chance to enter the booth.

In the evening, people would gather with neighbors, friends, and family and enjoy potluck dinners and block parties while they waited for the results. As the night wore on, some would be happy, some sad, but all would feel privileged to live in a country where all the people are encouraged and enthusiastic to participate in their governmental system.

When I was in Nevada last January helping with their Caucus, I met a Clinton volunteer from Iowa and began chatting with him about the problems our precinct was having with the voting. “Do you guys have these kinds of problems,” I asked. “No” he responded. “We’re Iowans. We caucus. That’s what we do.”

Imagine one Election Day, in the not so distant future, meeting a citizen from another country who comes to you and asks you why so many Americans are dressed up, in line, waiting to vote and you can turn to him and say, “We’re Americans. We vote. That’s what we do.”

Only in Turkey

Each society has something that can only be found in that place. I think it is important to catalog those anomalies because, in doing so, we discover more about that culture and the struggles within. In America, we have things like the Burning Man festival (burningman.com), Fried Coke (wikipedia_friedcoke), and the KKK. Exploring such culturally specific items helps us discover truths about a country that can’t be found in travel guides or in broad discussions of culture. Language is sometimes part of this. For example, in German there is a word schadenfreude which means the feeling of pleasure one takes at the misery of one’s enemies. When we think of the Germany of two generations ago, it seems appropriate for them to have such a word.

Now I will tell you of something that one can only find in Turkey:

In one of my conversation classes, there is a student who usually sits in the back. She always wears a long black skirt and a black long sleeve top. She sits quietly with a dour expression and, upon first glance, I thought she was one of those quiet brooding goth chicks who emulates Emily Dickinson and visits grave yards on Saturday nights. Upon closer examination, I discovered I was wrong. One day, while sitting next to this student during an activity, I looked closer at her face and noticed that under her hair ran some black cloth. It ran under her left ear, around her chin and back up the other side disappearing again under her unkempt short hair. This short hair turned out to be a wig.

Turkey has a law that students at schools and universities are not allowed to wear the traditional head scarf. The idea is to push Turkey toward a more secular modern society. Those who support this law believe that women who wear head scarves drive Turkey backwards. This is a similar argument to those proffered by women in the early nineties about stay-at-home moms.

Those who wear head scarves have a choice. They can either wear them up to the gate of the school where they must then remove them; they can not go to school at all, which often happens; or they can do as my student does and don a wig so that teachers and administrators can see “hair” and everyone wins. An annoying solution but a solution nonetheless.

So a student wearing a wig over a head scarf is something one will only see in Turkey. In Iran, women have to wear the head scarf. In Malaysia, there may be some societal pressure to wear it, but many do not and the choice is theirs. But Turkey is the only country that mandates not wearing it and that causes students to put on wigs or stand at school entrances and exits putting on or taking off the garment.

One day walking out the gate with my students on our way to eat and see the sites, they asked me to wait a moment. I stood where I was as they went behind a nearby building where 10 or 15 of their schoolmates had gathered to change. As I looked at their talkative smiling faces combing and wrapping and pinning themselves and all of them in different phases of dressing, one of my students waved her hand and said “teacher, don’t look.” After they were done, that student came and stood before me, looking prouder than I normally see her and with a broad smile asked me what I thought. I admired her new look and said, “I think it’s cool.” I then asked her why she had told me to look away, “Is it like I’m watching you change clothes or something?” I asked. She nodded a yes.

What I find interesting about all of this is that in America, we are sometimes nervous about people in head scarves. We associate it with Islam and oppressive societies and might even sometimes make the mistake of associating that simple cloth with terrorism and 9/11. But, ironically, if one of these young women wanted to study in the U.S., we would never tell her to take it off to do so.

Turkey, in its attempt to be secular, has developed a sort of secular fundamentalism. Their intention is to separate church and state, but this mandate, even though it seems to separate the two, ends up doing the opposite because it is mandating that a people not practice their religion or culture. The fear of lifting such a mandate is that social pressure would cause students who wouldn’t normally wear the scarf to feel compelled to do so. These arguments are similar to American arguments for and against prayer in school.

Ideally, the mandate would be lifted and students would feel truly free to dress as they wished, but for now it stays and the issue increases in political fervor by the year. One thing worth noting is that the popularity of head scarves is growing...(ahh...rebellious teenagers)...and more and more the head scarf is becoming a symbol on both sides of the debate. Stay tuned.

So think of your country or a country you’ve been to and an issue, a word, or a cultural phenomenon that only occurs there. For therein lies the heart of the place.

For more on the headscarf issue, watch this:
headscarf_newyorktimesvideo

...and although I didn't include a link to the aforementioned KKK, I am including this video which pretty well sums that group up:

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Unfortuantely, due to the closemindedness of the average citizen, I must preface this post by saying that I'm not homosexual. I must also note that, while I do have gay friends, they don't influence my view on this issue.

Gay marriage should be legal. This is a civil rights issue. I repeat: This is a CIVIL RIGHTS ISSUE.

November 4th, 2008 will go down as one of the most positive days in our country's history, but it will always have an asterix, for, while we shattered civil rights barriers on one front we callously shored them up on another.

Here are the exit poll stats by race:
White --- 49% Yes 51% No (63% of the vote)
Black---- 70% Yes 30% No (10% of the vote)
Latino -- 53% Yes 47% No (18% of the vote)
Asian --- 49% Yes 51% No (6% of the vote)
Other---- 51% Yes 49% No (3% of the vote)

Now by Age:
18-29--- 39% Yes 61% No (20% of the vote)
30-44 -- 55% Yes 45% No (28% of the vote)
45-64 -- 54% Yes 46% No (36% of the vote)
65+ ---- 61% Yes 39% No (15% of the vote)


America, we still have a long way to go.

To be fair, I've included info on both sides of the Prop 8 debate:

Wikipedia_Prop8
YesOn8.com
NoOn8.com

Now, I'll let Oberman take it from here: