Self-sufficiency, pride in labor: I noticed Americans are not ashamed of physical labor. I saw them sweep and clean in front of their homes and do their own repairs. In fact, they were proud of such abilities—it was a value, not a shame. In Egypt, manual physical labor is looked down upon. My mother once rented our house to a British couple and was surprised to see the woman openly sweeping the floor in front of the house. Physical work to middle and upper classes in Egypt is very demeaning, and it is viewed as a sign that you are poor and uneducated. Even the poor are ashamed of physical labor, and as soon as they become more successful they want to avoid physical labor. Everyone wanted to be an effendi, which is a title for a more educated Arab who usually works at a desk, or bahawat, “upper class.” Even poorer classes try to avoid hard work when no one is looking.
Generous, honest, and open: Americans are generous, ready, and eager to help someone in need, and they are also able to graciously ask for and accept help when they need it. In Arab culture, to be needy causes loss of face, a grave loss of honor. The proper response is denial of need, and if one gets a little help, deny you ever asked for it. My grandmother always said: “Rabena ma yehwegni lehad,” which means, “May God bless me with never needing help from another human being.” This oft-repeated phrase in Arab culture is one that I particularly dislike. It is a shame to need, to ask for help. Therefore, to ask for a favor one has to go through elaborate behavior to conceal one’s need. If someone actually does need a favor from someone else, they must go about it in a dishonest way, which involves later concealing the “shame” by denying they asked for it and insisting and that they accepted the “favor” only to please the person. One has to save face. This creates an awkward situation all around. Egyptians who are on the giving end then often turn around and complain about the ingratitude of people for whom they did a favor.
After this kind of elaborate social posturing, the frankness and openness of Americans was not only refreshing, it was also a great relief to me. I was surprised by the fact that not all Egyptians felt the same way. When other Egyptian immigrants asked me how I was able to make friendships with Americans so quickly, I didn’t have an answer. But I soon learned for myself that my personality was more compatible with the American culture than it was with Middle Eastern culture. What was considered a negative in the Middle East was a positive in America. For example, my natural openness and frankness earned me nothing but negative reactions in Egypt, but it was greatly appreciated by my American friends. My wish to learn about and respect other cultures and religions was not appreciated in the Middle East, but in America it was. To many Middle Eastern Muslims, Americans seemed very naive because of their honesty. That label was often applied to me. Now I was finally liberated in America; I no longer had to deny, lie, or hide my feelings.
The whole issue of truthfulness and honesty in Arab culture is a multilayered mystery to most of the Western world and is integral to the misunderstandings between our cultures. For this reason I want to attempt to explain it further. In Arab culture, being truthful is not only considered to be naive, and stupid, but it is also considered—believe it or not—rude. In a culture where one’s business is everyone else’s, it is often regarded as rude to set limits in one’s relationships by saying either yes or no. Thus Western culture’s “virtue” of honesty, in the eyes of Arabs, is not a virtue at all but an opportunity to take advantage of the naive Westerners. They are, after all, “opening themselves up” to be taken advantage of. For example, Muslim men look at the honesty and openness of Western women as an invitation—she’s being “easy.” If she talks openly about her life and preferences and goes to lunch with him, then she must be asking for sex! Then when the man is later rejected sexually, he is deeply insulted and blames American women for being deceptive and acting like sluts.
In the West “yes” is “yes” and “no” is “no.” But when Arabs hear the word “no” from an American they often take it as an insult. That is because Arabs don’t say the word “no” directly. Very often they say “in Shaalah” when they mean “no.” In dealing with Westerners, an Arab may say “yes” when they really don’t mean it, and that gets them in a lot of trouble with Westerners. More than one American president and countless diplomats who tried to negotiate with Arafat were confounded by what they thought Arafat had said. These perception problems are especially difficult in political relations and peace negotiations between Arabs and the West. When Arabs are asked if they want peace with Israel they always say “yes,” but the truth is that when the next terror group strikes another blow against peace, they will defend it and make excuses for it. This is not understood by the West, but it makes perfect sense to an Arab. Even in Arab-to-Arab relations, leaders may fall into this game. President Nasser of Egypt told King Hussein of Jordan that “yes,” we are winning the 1967 war even though the Egyptian army was almost destroyed. King Hussein accordingly joined the war and the lie cost him the West Bank.
For the most part, in the Arab community, we know not to take “yes” seriously and use our instincts. However, it takes its toll on our interpersonal relationships, creating a lot of distrust in Arab relations at all levels. In Arab culture these language games are very common. If you have become lost or confused by the above, that only further illustrates the difficulties in understanding the Arab mind-set.
Lying to protect family, community, or your culture of origin from being exposed to outsiders is actually considered a virtue. Under such circumstances, lying is respected and rewarded. It is a game that most Arabs develop very early in life and so it comes very naturally. My mother-in-law proudly tells us that when her husband made a mistake he would always say he didn’t do it. She viewed this as a virtue. She saw it as a sign that he loved her and she believed that his denial of wrongdoing was his way of saying “sorry” to her.
I have seen the signs of avoidance of truth even in myself. As a young woman I found myself defending the Arab-Israeli conflict and Islam, regardless of the truth or of the facts presented to me. Family pride was also an issue worth protecting in Arab culture at the expense of the truth or of one’s own happiness. After my father’s death, my family situation was very difficult, especially with my mother’s severe depression and our inability to talk about our pain. To hide the pain I had to lie. After all, my family pride was on the line. I was in denial to protect my family honor and myself. So I kept my pain to myself and hardly ever talked about it to anyone. I wanted to keep up the facade of the happy family life we used to have when my father was alive. Sensing my pain, a school-teacher once asked me if everything was okay at home. I responded by saying, “Yes.” Perhaps the only person I confided in was my grandmother, and even with her I made sure not to tell everything so as not to upset her.
It was very different from American culture, where people talk freely about their shortcomings and pain without shame. Furthermore, they find satisfaction in helping someone else in a similar situation. Americans join support groups to seek help for all sorts of problems. That is unheard of in the Arab world, where one family member’s shame can hurt the whole family, and one member’s pride can boost the pride of the whole clan. Individual and family relationships are not a personal matter, and preserving the family honor is more important that happiness and a healthy life.
In Egypt, domestic abuse of women and children is common but never reported. And if it was reported, the victim was often the one to be blamed. Telling anything negative about your family can bring down severe condemnation, both from society and the family. A friend of my sister’s who had a lot of family problems was once told to see a counselor. Her response was, “If I talk to a stranger, my family will be disgraced in society and they will never forgive me.” It is unthinkable to most Arabs to speak any negativity against their family, even if they are suffering from severe abuse. Thus people have no choice but to lie. They will even lie about having a disease such as cancer. Cancer sufferers in Egypt feel a great deal of shame and will often deny
it because people fear the evil eye and may avoid severely ill people out of fear of being envied for their health. Bottom line, being truthful in Arab culture can get someone in great trouble from many sources, so the wisest way to protect oneself is to lie. It was fascinating when I first came to America to see my American friends share their most intimate problems and see their friends respond with great compassion. I saw many seek help and treatment and face their problems with great courage and without lies and shame.
While American-style honest interaction and simplicity was a great relief and was far healthier for me and other Egyptian immigrants as well, we just did not practice it with one another. Many still kept up the facade in their Arab-to-Arab relationships but had more open and honest relationships with Americans.
Western-style soul searching or examination of beliefs is almost unheard of in Arab culture. Such behavior would bring about shame and loss of honor. And no subject is more sacred and protected from analysis or criticism than the Koran or Islam. Muslims can get violently angry if that is done. To a lesser extent, if a family member, tribe, nation, or culture is perceived to be under attack, then excuses, justifications, misrepresentations, and outright lies are the only honorable thing to do. Remember, this is a culture based on pride and shame. This phenomenon can be seen when Muslim women are questioned about their status in Muslim society. Westerners often hear even educated and respectable Muslim women defend and boldly deny verifiable facts and statistics. They will, for instance, deny that women are being stoned in Iran when the whole world has seen the pictures of women buried to their waist in dirt being stoned to death. Saving face is a very strong motivation for Arabs, and lying is a virtue when there is no other choice in order to save face. Westernized Arabs who engage in honest, open discussions admit to shortcomings in their culture, and work toward solutions are rare. Those who do so are ostracized and even called traitors.
Problems arise when Arab immigrants choose to live in the West but never assimilate or make an effort to understand or appreciate the simplicity of American values such as truthfulness. They may be mystified by the openness of Americans and cannot comprehend taking what Americans say at face value. But for me, the openness of Americans was a welcome relief. I loved it.
Informality: Americans easily bypassed the formalities in their friendships that we Egyptians were accustomed to. When I had American guests in my home, I did not need to make the house look perfect, cook a feast, or be extra careful to please. Around Americans, believe it or not, I was more relaxed, since they were less judgmental and more accepting and appreciative.
We did, of course, also move in the circles of other Egyptians who had come to this country. Among many Egyptian immigrants—but of course not all—there was plenty of gossip, envy, suspicion, and watching one’s back. I heard many Egyptian Americans, especially Muslims, openly say they did not want to do business with one another. Some even avoided one another in public. I felt so sad for my community that they could not shake this sense of distrust. Even in this new place—especially for those who immigrated together with their large extended family—newcomers found themselves once again stuck mostly with family relationships out of distrust of others. In the early years, I often felt lonely, because in Arab culture, without your family, you are like a fish out of water—and you are made to feel so. I had no family—that is, no blood relatives—in America. But, looking back, I think that was a blessing in disguise. Without the constraints of family, I was given more of a chance to explore and immerse myself in the big melting pot of America.
Women’s relationships: Perhaps the greatest cultural difference I noticed as a newcomer was the way American women relate to one another. First, I noticed that American women have a no-nonsense attitude about life and men—they certainly don’t put up with abuse, most of them, at least. But it was amazing to see how women support other women, as well as work together for the good of their communities. Many of my American coworkers and neighbors belonged to women’s groups, which were social, recreational, or political. When things went wrong in their community they got together and took a stand. Retired women and men volunteered their time, effort, and money to many causes—hospitals, churches, schools—wherever they found need. These were not rich people, but people who cared about their community. This might seem ordinary in American society, but to a newcomer from the Middle East, where women restrict their activities to within the family, it is very noticeable and was quite impressive. As for other Egyptian immigrants, I don’t think they even noticed.
I do not want to confuse this with saying that Muslims do not help the needy. Yes, Muslims give to the poor, as required by Islam, but it is often done in a condescending manner and sometimes even with disgust, giving only what is left over or no longer useful, rather than what the poor need. The attitude is: Some food during the feasts and that is it. There is a famous Arab saying, “Ettaki sharra men ahsanta elayh,” meaning “Beware of evil from those to whom you give charity.” This is just another layer of the pervasive distrust that permeates all Arab relationships. It is no wonder that needing help is a shameful thing to express or that elaborate, pretentious behavior becomes necessary to protect one’s “pride.”
American women also support one another on a personal level. Many of them act gracious toward each other, ask about each other’s welfare, compliment one another—at least that is the “acceptable” social behavior. In sharp contrast, among most Egyptian women, being gracious with one another would signal that you are weak or needy. Egyptian women, even those who have immigrated to America, do not hide their feelings of jealousy, envy, and competitiveness. You can walk into a room and another Egyptian woman might say, “What have you done to your hair? It looks awful.” And she will mean it. An American woman, if she uttered such words, would be teasing. A full-figure Egyptian friend of mine told me that she hates going to Egypt because every time she visits, she is reminded of her weight problem by other women. They constantly greet her by saying, “What happened to you? You gained so much weight!” She also added that one woman told her, “That is why God wants you to cover up with an Islamic dress—to hide your fat!”
Even though Egyptian women in America no longer have to worry about their husbands legally taking second or third wives, the legacy of competitiveness and distrust plagues their relationships with other women and keeps them from enjoying the support and warmth of female friendships that American women take for granted.
Child rearing: American parents’ traditional upbringing standards are also very different. First of all, they instill in their children—boys and girls equally—the American values of respect, thrift, hard work, and honesty. These teachings reinforce the societal values that became the cornerstone of American democracy and society’s respect for human rights. I see them teach these values in a very concrete ways. American parents will encourage their children to earn money early in life by washing neighbors’ cars, mowing lawns, or babysitting. They know it contributes to the upbringing of independent and responsible children. I heard many Egyptians criticize American parents as being too hard on their children when they expected them to help around the house or get part-time jobs as teenagers. But it is such early lessons that contribute to Americans’ being self-sufficient, hardworking, and responsible, both within the family and as citizens.
American parents also encourage their children to follow their best instincts—to give of themselves, volunteer to help others in need. In Egypt, a country in desperate need of many services and volunteer work, people mostly stay at home watching TV, cooking, or doing nothing. Volunteer work is unheard of among the large number of Egyptians living on government pensions while the masses are suffering.
Work ethic: I also realized that in order to succeed in America one has to work hard. I was ready for the hard work and knew that it would pay off in the future. My freedom and new life was well worth the hard work. That was one notion I shared with all the other Egyptian immigrants. Many had come
penniless to America, but they found good jobs, started businesses, worked hard, and were able to buy homes. They also encouraged their children to do well in school.
As I looked back on my first year in America, I felt lucky to have made friends so quickly. These new friends included some Jewish Americans—the very people we were taught to hate all of our lives in the Middle East. That was when I realized that the indoctrination into fear and hatred of Jews that we Arabs grew up with was just a big lie. I started questioning my upbringing and the Arab propaganda I’d been fed all my life. I asked myself, Why the hate? What purpose does it serve? What are Arabs afraid of? Why do they want to spread lies and propaganda against them? Why can’t they live with Jews and Christians in the Middle East—a land so vast it stretches from Morocco to Iran? I realized that the Arab-Israeli conflict is not a crisis over land, but a crisis of hate, lack of compassion, ingratitude, and insecurity.
I started blocking out my past. Whenever I saw broadcasts of the Middle East that showed violence and terrorism, I turned off the TV. I simply could not bear to see it or live with it anymore. I would tell myself: “I am now safe in America—the land of the free and the home of the brave. I am now free to pursue the American dream.” The U.S. Declaration of Independence says: “We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness…” One of the youngest nations on earth realized “the self-evident truths” about human rights and human nature. In the most powerful nation on earth your human rights are not granted to you by the president or Congress, but by your creator, whomever you may believe that to be. You are respected and have rights simply because you exist as citizens. As I looked around, I saw that respect for the individual permeated the culture of this country, my newly adopted country, in every aspect of life. I read the U.S. Constitution—not only to pass the test to become a citizen but also because I was genuinely curious to see what this nation was built on. I was in awe of what I was reading, because I realized that if a nation respects the rights of its citizens it would also respect the nations outside its border. As I studied this document, I wondered why the whole world wouldn’t adopt similar principles. After becoming an American, and looking at it from an American perspective, I was all the more sad to consider how vulnerable minorities such as Christians and Jews are in the Middle East.
Now They Call Me Infidel Page 14