The Jewel of Medina

November 25, 2008

I just finished this book….and wish, on some level I had read it sooner.

There are some progressives who doubt Aisha’s existence at all, and whether one does or does not, it’s a fascinating read. Yes it’s fictional, but it takes a heroine of Islam and makes her personal.  It reminds people that both prophet and woman were human, people.  With emotions like anger, jealousy, fear, love, kindness.  That patience must be learned, that life changes us, and that somewhere in there we have the strength to do the unexpected.


Will I post again?

November 25, 2008

Well the fact that this is here sor tof answers that.


I’ve shut myself off.  Retreated into robes and work, pretty well like I said I would.


I’m wracked with guilt.  I broke him.


I don’t mean to, and I didn’t think I could.  But I did.


He went from being respected, envied and admired to..well..not.  And I blame myself for it.  I let him get lazy, I did too much, trying to rise above.  And what was left of him….I don’t think even he could respect.


I’m not doing this again. to someone else, to anyone else.  I’m staying inside.  I’m staying quiet.  I’m working.  And I’m not going to put myself in this position again.

It’s over.

November 16, 2008

I don’t think I need to go into detail but it is, in fact over.  I’m sick over it, and I’m done.


Would I Still be Nadia?

November 9, 2008

I think… It’s over.


Tonight, his former slave.  The epic one, the one he tells stories about, the one who he holds up as an example against all others told me that she was coming back, and that he wanted her back.


There’s really nothing else for me to do .  I would rather end it on this note, on a good note.  Without the hurt, the baggage, and rending.  I would rather hurt a lot now than be devastated later.


I want my veils back.


Well.  I don’t really.  But I can’t think of anyone else who could actually own me. The control that anyone else has had is merely a reflection of his control over me.  So.  When I look at the options…settle into a life of mediocrity in his collar.  Tear apart some other man who I probably did actually care about.  Or settle into a life behind veils and robes, continue to work on sim as I always have,   Just..not be his anymore.  The last of the options seems the most tolerable, if the most painful.


I think for some time it would be difficult for anyone else to accept that change.  But it would not be difficult for me.  I would be grateful, to close in on myself, to cover myself.  To hide from view.  To veil myself in my work, as much as in robes.  To know that I loved, profoundly, deeply.  And to know that it was not enough.


I want him to be happy.  And he was happiest with her.  I want him to be content, and he was most with content with her.  And I know that if he kept me, it would only bring misery down, on me, and on his home.


It was eerie, coming to that understanding.  It hurt, of course, but it was peculiarly soothing, and is soothing to me to know that I am, truly willing to do this, to let him go.  Not for my sake, but for his.


Why can’t I just stay?  Because it changes the dynamic.  Because the ride is over.  It was over the instant he spoke to her, the instant he asked her backIt’s not a simple changing of course. It’s a stop.


He’s had a thousand girls before me, and will have a thousand girls after me.  Sliding through his fingers like grains of sand.  I am just another grain of sand.  I don’t want his reassurances, I don’t want his attempts to show me that it’s not truth.  Because it is truth.  I told her I would ask for my freedom.


She immediately tried to placate me with tales of how she would not challenge my position in the house.  Of how she would not touch him.  Of how…well all the usual trite and petty things one says when they know that they have essentially delivered..THE NEWS.


I was insulted actually.  It wasn’t about the petty things.  It was the something deeper that was cut.  I couldn’t explain it to her, Eastern mind versus Western mind I guess.  But I ended with telling her to come home, and kneel at his feet where she belongs.


And I will ask to stand on mine.  To walk away.  Not leave Ti of course.  The city’s a part of me.  But to simply be allowed to hide.


Would I keep the name he gave me?  No.  I’ll retake my name.  Re-cover myself, regain my feet, and stand in my own right.  Cold comfort it is, but the only comfort I get.

Mai Gor Lolcat

November 3, 2008