Sunday, December 13, 2009

A Mouthful

Reading chapter 2 ("The Eternal Fourough: The Voice of Our Earthly Rebellion") of Fatemeh Keshavarz's Jasmine and Stars: Reading More Than Lolita in Tehran left me with a lot to think about, namely how she gets at her main purpose, which is that women aren't as oppressed in the Middle East as Western society and media would have everyone believe.

To be fair, we should establish that Keshavarz left Iran in September of 1979, before the revolution really took hold and she was forced to obey religious laws regardless of whether or not she believed in them.

Some of the first proof she offers of the openness of Iranian life (and its lack of governmental oppression in general) is that translations of Western novels aren't impossible to find in Iran. Keshavarz tells her readers how, in 1986 in (war-torn) Iran, she was able to find an already translated copy of Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, which she had just read in the U.S.. The novel was first published in Italian in 1980 and published in English in 1983. "The presence," Keshavarz writes, "of such translations in Iranian bookstores is testimony to the openness of the readers and their interest in the world. This is a trait that the New Orientalist vision of the Middle East does not acknowledge. In fact, RLT's depiction of Iran portrays a culture unreceptive to books by Western authors. . . . Censorship of all kinds is undesirable. But there is a difference between banning all Western books and banning the story of the seduction of the underaged Lolita" (37). We should examine, here, that The Name of the Rose is a murder mystery set in a 14th century Italian monastery. When Keshavarz talks about Iranians being receptive to books by Western authors, she makes an unfair comparison: a relatively benign story versus one she readily admits contains more controversial material. Then, not all books are banned, so it's less bad than if they all were. Banning Lolita is for the good of the people because it is arguably crude or shocking (a contention with which many in the United States would agree). But it is difficult to argue a people's receptivity to world literature when you also contend that maybe it's not so bad to ban a book, especially if its subject matter is something that maybe people shouldn't be interested in.

Later, Keshavarz talks about how she interviewed an old man who had memorized the entire collection of Parvin Etesami's poetry. When she first saw the old man, toothless and in "peasant clothing" (43), Keshavarz assumed she was about to waste a couple of hours on an interview that would prove to be useless. Keshavarz found, however, that the old, illiterate man was very intelligent and articulate. It is here that Keshavarz begins to get at something - something about preconceived notions and altering them. She relates this anecdote to what she views as the West's idea that anyone (any country) poor (especially illiterate) is considered to be ignorant and stupid, fundamentalist. Any culture or government outside of one like the West has is a failure in and of itself. Sadly, many in the West believe this to be true - that more "traditional" cultures are backward and wrong and need to be helped along. But this doesn't get at oppression as viewed by those experiencing it.

Keshavarz talks about the media's portrayal of Middle Easterners, especially women, and how those portrayals are often false or exaggerated. I think she's right, but I think her main downfall is that she fails to give readers and consumers any credit for their critical thinking capabilities. I understand Keshavarz's desire to defend her homeland, but she continually skirts the issues surrounding the actual oppression that does take place.

Keshavarz writes about how texts such as Reading Lolita in Tehran, those that discuss sexual abuse in the Middle East, are unfair because they "often associate these corruptions with the local religion, Islam. RLT places these incidents consistently in the familiar context of the savage, overly sexual and duplicitous Oriental who in public projects an image of purity and piety" (50). We in the West, however, have experience separating isolated incidents (a bunch of priests molested a large number of young people) from the need to vilify an entire group (not all priests are molesters/rapists). Keshavarz is right, though. It can be difficult to dissociate Iranian child molesters/rapists from practitioners of Islam in that country because Islam is the national religion. Keshavarz writes, "The reader, predisposed to accept the stereotype of the Muslim male as a sexual oppressor, is unlikely to question the relevance of this individual crime to the overall bankruptcy attributed to Muslim morality. This abusive incident will be just an added 'proof' to what the reader already 'knows'" (50). Again, though, she does not give people enough credit. We are (I sincerely hope) intelligent enough to realize that just because one Muslim man raped someone does not mean that all Muslim men are rapists.

Keshavarz also contends that "women would like to reform electoral law and various other legal codes in Iran to get better representation, and, yes, they are still involved in various struggles to improve their lot" (52), but she never gives specific examples of the laws and reforms of which she speaks. I think some of what Keshavarz refers to can be found in Iran's constitution, some laws which pertain specifically to women (although some affect both sexes), and some explanations of penal codes.

On the whole I agree with Keshavarz that the Western notion of the situation of women in Iran, in the Middle East in general, is sensationalized. Women enjoy a great number of freedoms, Iranians and Muslims don't lock women up and treat them as worthless slaves. The Iranian constitution talks at length about peace and respect and protection. I agree with many of Keshavarz's contentions and appreciate her point of view. But I have to ask her to give people enough credit to differentiate themselves from the (outspoken) minority that takes sensationalist notions at face value and thinks that women are given no respect or regard in the Middle East. And I have to ask her to acknowledge that just because women have freedoms does not mean that they don't suffer. Indeed, both men and women suffer under a government that forces them to live by a religious code to which they may not subscribe. Many women choose to be veiled, but for those who are forced to wear the veil, it acts as a physical reminder of oppression. It's not that women are frequently burned with acid or beaten, it's that the law provides them with no recourse if these things do happen. It's that women are legally worth half of what men are worth. It's that children can't be tried for crimes. Girls stop being children at 9, boys at 14.

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