My soul sought a way out of a place where logic is merely a theoretical idea, a prisoner in books. Set free only when beneficial to an oppressive purpose and typically to the most illogical of explanations.
“God loves us and therefore we must fear him”, that’s ‘logic’. “Women menstruate and therefore cannot be trusted to make important decisions” makes ‘logical’ sense. However, if I declare that “God should help me out because I pray to him” I would be accused of being an illogical heretic. If I think that I should be able to marry 4 men just as a man can marry 4 women, that is not ‘logical’. How would society tell for sure which man fathered my child? So my word, judgement and choices are inconsequential? Ah yes, that’s because I menstruate and therefore cannot be trusted to make decisions. Here is my favorite: “It is very obvious and beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Holy Book is the ultimate word of God that has never been modified by man”. What is the ‘logical’ proof? It says so right here, in the Holy Book itself: “it has never been modified by man”. I swear! That is the one airtight proof that kept me believing in the sanctity of the Koran until I developed a brain. Thanks to studying that elusive science of logic, I finally came across this simple argument of “what if whoever wrote it, added this little convenient phrase?” Once I got his clever joke, the whole thing became very ludicrous, I became free and my people became neanderthals.
‘Logic’ is applied selectively to further the status quo and maintain the existing power structures. Fear is a very powerful manipulation tool!
My mind sought freedom like a nine month old fetus seeks the only glimmer of light coming in through the tiniest hole. As improbable as it is for it to escape through that littlest of holes, every cell of its being gathers all its might to achieve that goal of escape. To live or die trying. My sanity was nine months and 1 second old in a very dark place where it can no longer breathe. While my peers were busy courting the opposite sex, chasing that ultimate goal of getting married, settling down and having babies, I was courting ways to leave, chasing my goals of freedom and knowledge. Luckily I didn’t die trying. I was born in Egypt, and reborn out of Egypt.
Little did I know then, that freedom ultimately lurked in the very thing that I despised, avoided and, at best, ignored. Something that is uniquely Egyptian, very feminine and has little or nothing to do with logic: Bellydance!
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