I wish that my return to blogging could be an exciting story about an extremely fun adventure our program took (stay tuned, we're going on a long trip next weekend!). Unfortunately, I think is important to make this post about the experience of being an American woman here in Irbid.
As an American or a westerner in general you stick out like a sore thumb in Jordan for the most part. There will always be stares, there will always be people wanting to talk to you, there will always be people trying to sell you something, there will always be someone who thinks you are German. "Welcome to Jordan" is a phrase I have heard at least twenty times a day. It seems harmless enough, and I'm sure in general it is simply a pleasant greeting. However, if there is even a single male from our program out with the ladies, the frequency of this greeting plummets. I've had to train myself not to respond, not to turn my head, and to ignore completely just about everyone who tries to talk to me on the street. For a girl from the Midwest who smiles at people on the streets, holds doors for everyone, and uses "please" and "thank you" to the point of excess, I feel rude pretending not to hear or understand when someone tries to talk to me.
As a woman I am restricted in my lifestyle. I never venture outside the university gates by myself, and if no one else is in the mood to go out to the grocery store this means sucking it up and eating some pita and hummus for a few meals. Many cafes are male-only, and therefore are off limits to me. In those that I am allowed there is often a second floor for women and mixed gender groups while the first floor is reserved for men only. I take care to cover my arms and legs completely before I leave the gates, although I'm beginning to doubt this makes much of a difference.
Harassment is rampant and undeniable. Yes, harassment happens back home and everywhere else in the world. Here I feel targeted every time I step outside my door. The honking, the cat calls, the pick-up lines delivered in broken English...every time I feel a little more frustrated and a little more outraged. "You have sexy" "I want to fuck you" "Your boobs are beautiful" Would it be so much to ask to go through a day without these phrases? Verbal harassment has been wearing me down, but it is the physical harassment that I've struggled with the most. Having my personal space violated in such a fashion is just the most uncomfortable experience. One day as a friend and I were walking to the bus stop a man ran us down and felt entitled to grab us. It was after this experience that I learned to hit anyone who tries to touch me. Although I'm sure I was taller than this man, I felt small, weak, and absolutely terrified.Yesterday while riding in a taxi from central Amman to the bus stop, I had a driver who asked me if I would take him back to the US with me for a large sum of money. Instead of shutting up after I said no way in hell, he continued on talking about how he wanted to have sex and marry me. On top of that, I knew from my few experiences in Amman that it should take about ten minutes from where I was to the bus stop, but the driver decided to take a route that doubled the time. Once again I felt so helpless not knowing where we were going, and if it was indeed the bus stop. Upon arriving at the bus stop he overcharged me, told me to be careful riding the bus (what a joke), and then parked his car and hung around outside the ticket office until my traveling companions arrived and told him to leave.
All these experience have shaped my time here and I hope the past three weeks are not highly indicative of the next twelve weeks. Every experience pushes me to modify my behavior and teaches me something about how to avoid a similar situation in the future. Each time I think my skin gets a little bit tougher, but in the moment my mind is almost stunned into forgetting that I am not powerless.
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