i want my body back

I feel out of control of my body here. Sickness tears at your insides, searing pain in your gut, pollution clogging your pores and your lungs and your nose, the grime of dust and diesel like an oily layer of sweat. It stings your eyes, as do the pungent almost-wrongness of scents, be it spices or sickly-sweet decay of litter. You know nothing of what is being put in your body; even when you are ill and need medicine, the names are written in a foreign alphabet, housed in unmarked sachets that bear no resemblance to their chemical counterparts in western allopathic medicine. The food is strange and tastes like the jungles and marketplaces and stalls on the roadside, everything mashed or boiled and spiced so that it is unrecognizable from its original form. You don’t know what it is or where it came from, or whether it is safe. Even water, the most translucent of liquids, has microscopic lethal dangers hidden in its wetness. Safety and peace are simply unwelcome in this region of the world—most especially, if you are a woman. The stares of men brutally rip off your clothing (already so ensconcing that their folds preclude any suggestion of curvature or anatomy) with their eyes…I have never seen such hungry stares in my entire life. And it is not a gentle lust. I have no idea what has been done to my body in their imaginations.
This is the worst part of it. When they actually do grab at you with their sweaty-palmed small and scarred hands, the fingernails yellowed and dirty, towards coveted white and vulnerable skin. This happened to me on the bus to Dhaka; I fell asleep with my leg up on the seat, and he grabbed me through the window. At the national monument of all places, a man ejaculated when he saw that I had noticed him masturbating to me. Yesterday, a rickshaw driver snuck behind the alleyway of the university, and was accosted there; he was frantically pulling at himself, watching the girls go into the dining hall. What is sexual about students laughing with their friends, coming from class? My favorite of the cleaning staff, and spunky and stunningly beautiful girl of fourteen or fifteen (she doesn’t know her own age) was gang-raped by four men three days ago. She was walking to work, and has now lost her job because she was afraid to walk home that day, and asked if she could spend the night in the university…obviously, against protocol, and she is from the slums and doesn’t ‘deserve’ accommodation. This university stands for the protection and empowerment of women—regardless of ethnicity, socio-economic status, or familial background—and yet this child was denied shelter. And she has denied that it occurred, because in this culture, it is the woman’s fault no matter what. She cannot face the shame it would bring to her family, and it would dash any chance of marriage she has. An unmarried woman is viewed the same as a prostitute, and it is likely she would end up that way; so one act of sexual violence results in enslaving her to a lifetime of compulsory sex. She is ripe for the taking at her age, it is the most common time for women to be snatched off the street and sold into brothels, never to be heard from again by family and friends. Bangladesh, and Chittagong in particular, is one of the capitals of human trafficking in the entire world. I heard a woman say the other day, “Well, if you live here long enough, you are bound to get raped—incest, in matrimony, or on the street.” I have never felt such anger in my entire life. I’ve never hated men, no matter what my experiences have been, no matter what I have seen happen to my friends or read about in articles, no matter how many feminist or queer theory classes I have taken. Yet this place makes me bitter every time I look up and seeing them staring at me. You can’t fight back because you risk being marked out and having acid thrown in your face. You can’t be docile because then they get bold. They don’t stop when you shout at them, instead they leer and laugh. I don’t understand how this happens…are they not taught that it is wrong? Is it because Islam so represses them that they become like animals? I cannot imagine human beings treating each other in this way. It saddens and infuriates and frightens me, haunts me in my dreams and when I am awake. As long as I am alive and able, I will not forget these things, and I will not stay silent while hundreds of women are raped every day. If this trip has shown me anything, it is that I need to work towards alleviating these problems, if only by educating these young women that they are not guilty for the abuse wreaked upon them. Over half the girls at AUW have experienced sexual abuse, and yet all of them do not recognize that it was not their fault. I cannot protect them from it in the future, and I cannot change their pasts, but I hope I can at least free them from their own self-recrimination.

more pictures from Aarong

I'm posting more pictures, and I'll also include some from Friday afternoon--Fatema and I were bored, so we decided to play dress-up. She dressed me in one of her sari's, and then (fortunately for all of you) insisted that we take pictures. So here they are!
P.S. Additional model is Burkha Barbie. You never thought you'd see that, right?

reflections on my trip to Aarong

I'm not sure where to start...so much has happened in the past week! I'll try to describe my two trips to Dhaka, succinctly but comprehensively.
On Wednesday evening, Jenine and I rushed the girls to the train station, and it seemed like that feeling of anxiousness and haste pervaded throughout the whole trip...we were constantly late or about to miss something or not make the bus home...everything in this country takes longer and doesn't show up on time. It takes a lot of getting used to for a Type A personality like me; probably this will be a good learning experience, but for now, it just irritates me a lot. We then had an extremely uncomfortable journey to Dhaka, arriving at 6:30am on Thursday. Then, we had such a full day! We grabbed coffee and breakfast at a little bakery called King's, which is really nice, and then went to wash up at the university's guesthouse in Dhaka.
We were then picked up around 9am, by Aarong's bus, and traveled for about two and a half hours to get to Manikganj. Although very dusty, hot, and uncomfortable, I really enjoyed the trip. I got some incredible photographs from the bus, because I don't usually feel protected enough to have my camera out to capture the roadside, so it provided me a wonderful photographic opportunity.
On the way, we stopped at the National Monument. National Martyrs' Memorial is situated at Savar, about 35 km north-west of Dhaka, and commemorates the sacrifice of all the people who died in the struggle for liberation of Bangladesh. Ironically enough, this is where my most negative experience of the trip occurred; some guy followed me around masturbating under his shirt. I thought at first he was targeting all the students, but then realized it was just me (apparently white skin is a very alluring thing here). I tried to hurry the girls away, but he followed us around. Thank god he just stared and imagined; he made no effort to come close or accost me, for which I am grateful. The most repugnant part was that, as soon as he saw that I had noticed him, he finished.
The rest of the day was mostly great though; we got to the Ayesha Abed Foundation center, and toured the plant. They focus on textiles there--including embroidery, stitching, block prints, and many processes of dyeing. I got some incredible photos here! The manager of the entire plant showed us around, and all of the workers seemed really happy at their jobs. There's almost no machinery, so as to create as many jobs as possible, and everyone seems very loyal and thankful for the fair trade benefits. I met one woman who has been working there for over 30 years! They also prepared a nice lunch for us. Unfortunately, I was feeling kind of sick at that point, so I didn't partake--I actually almost passed out from heat exhaustion and dehydration, but fortunately one of the employees noticed I had turned pale, and grabbed my arm just as I stumbled. They made me rest and get water (which was SO frustrating, because I knew I was missing great photo ops!), and I came through with only a slightly scraped knee.
Then, we returned to Dhaka, and went to the main management center. This place is the liaison between the front end (the retail stores) and the back end of craft centers and independent artisans. We were spoken to by the CEO, the head design consultant, and the woman is in charge of the entire business and foundation. I was extremely impressed by the level of organization, growth, and genuine-ness in their business acumen and ethics. They said all the right things but I also believe that they actually act upon them!
Then, I chaperoned the girls to the nearest Aarong outlet, while Jenine met with the Director about pursuing her own projects. She is well-connected in the British fashion industry, having worked at Top Shop for years, and is going to be introducing a fair trade line that links Aarong with the first-world market. All of the students seem to have such dreams as well, as this is a fair trade and ethical business class. It was exciting for me to see their enthusiasm, as well as visit the store with them and know I had just witnessed some of these things being made! As Jenine said, it is impossible to appreciate--either as designer or consumer--products until you see them actually made...then you know how painstaking the work of each piece is and all that goes into its production!
Then we all met up together again, and went to the only Mexican restaurant in Bangladesh. It was actually quite good! It's funny to see the girls trying such foreign food, I can empathize with them...the best part was when they kept complaining the food was too spicy (how ironic!). Jenine also invited one of her friends, Micky Diaz, who is an extremely successful CEO and managing director of a group of companies (including transportation, import/export, and a sweater factory). He's been to almost every country in the world, and was very gentlemanly and fatherly. He offered to send a car for me when I come back to Dhaka to take my flight home, and Jenine and I both agree he makes us feel much safer here! He also offered us cashmere sweaters from his factory, and paid for our entire dinner bill, which was both sweet and quite generous!
Then, we almost missed the buses back to Chittagong, but arrived just in time. There wasn't enough space on one bus for all of us, so I took seven girls while Jenine took the other seven. These buses were extremely nice (think of business class on an airplane), and it was the first mode of transportation I've actually felt safe on in this country. It seemed a little silly for me to chaperone these students, as they kept reassuring ME instead, telling us all where to go and how much longer it would be. Then, we got back safe and sound around 6:30am on Friday morning, and I got to rest up before leaving for Dhaka again at 9:30am on Saturday morning...