Kuwait – Half-Blood Kuwaiti

The Lockdown Is Over and So Am I

a black silhouette of a woman

It is interesting to me that so little is technically going on right now, but everything is happening.

Relationships are ending, lives have been turned upside down, and people are seeking therapy at alarming rates. Putting aside the legitimate tragedies some people are experiencing, why is isolation so disastrous? I guess we don’t notice that our minds are not a nice place to live normally because we avoid living there. We go out into the world and try to experience something other than ourselves. Now we cannot do that.

We distract ourselves and then claim we are too busy to go after the lives we want. “I just don’t have the time,” we said. “Here you go,” said God. “No,” we say, “not like this.” The truth is, the busier you are the more you end up doing. When you get used to constantly having a task, it feels odd to not have one. Now we have nothing and struggle to do anything. It’s inertia or something like that.

What have I used this time for? For one thing, I have combed through my behavior and mistakes over the last 10 years in depth, and I have decided to cancel myself. Unfortunately, just like most cancelled people, I am still very much here.

I have tried to convince myself that wasting 70% of my time is not that bad because 30% of my free time is a lot more than it used to be. So I should be getting more done. I have also tried to convince myself that I only waste 70% of my time.

I have concocted an elaborate theory about how autocorrect starts acting up around the full moon. I have also come up with something called The Ben and Jerry’s Diet, where you live on one carton per day. Each pint is roughly 1200 calories, so logically, you would lose weight. It’s like the Subway diet, except more fun and with better long-term marketing prospects because I’m not a pedophile.

It’s not that I haven’t done anything useful. It’s just with all this time it is painfully clear what could be and how much what is falls short. We have been given the gift of time and we don’t know what to do with gifts. We are better at surviving in the face of hardship than enjoying blessings. Studies show that humans create their own problems when they don’t have any, and I am expecting these scientists to show up at my door any day now and request to examine my brain when I die. Would that make my suicide worth it for the greater good? Haha. Anyway.

I don’t have a solution. All I can say is forgive yourself, maybe. Whatever you’re going through right now, I feel like that is relevant. Forgive yourself for not living up to the standard they tell you it’s unforgiveable not to meet. Forgive yourself for having messier problems than other people seem to have, because they struggle with the same thing or worse but they’re too ashamed to talk about it. Forgive yourself for not being born smarter or prettier. Forgive yourself for wanting what “emotionally healthy” people are supposed to be too self-sufficient and self-loving to want. Forgive yourself for not living up to the terrible burden of “potential.”

We do not live in forgiving times. Sometimes it seems like people are praised for how much they condemn. I think women especially struggle with this because for so long they were told to put up with everything for the sake of having a husband or keeping their family together, and now the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction, where tolerating anything is a sign of weakness. But you can’t genuinely accept yourself without accepting others. And if your goal is to accept another person, you can’t do that without accepting yourself either.

At the end of the day, we are all we have. And, for better or for worse, that is clearer now than ever before. Maybe that’s why everyone is so upset.

Why People Need to Stop Using “Culture” to Justify Abuse

This is a topic that makes me angry, because I know so many people who believe that they own their children and it’s perfectly okay to treat them however they want.

They won’t admit that’s what they think, but it’s obvious. Why else would it be so common that people are pressured into marrying their cousins or denied the option to marry someone they love because of nationality or family name? Why are children forced to wear hijab and beaten if they date or smoke? Why is it acceptable that some children aren’t allowed to access the internet? I know this isn’t everyone’s parents, but it’s common enough to be a disturbing trend. And some people never find out how violently their parents would try to control them because they never rebel enough to see.

And then there are parents who justify their abusive but not “that bad” actions by saying, “A typical Kuwaiti father would have beaten you up and stopped you from doing x, y, or z. You’re so lucky I didn’t do that.”

This tells me everything I need to know, because it suggests that a person cannot be doing something wrong if it is common in society. And that we have no right to ask for more than what is typical, no matter how limiting, abusive, and unfulfilling that typical is.

In other countries, your children can be taken away from you if you hurt them. Here we say, “What did she expect her family to do if they caught her with a boy?” Even people who claim to be against violence will defend the parents’ point of view if the offense is serious enough.

But the fact that this is normal in our society doesn’t make it better. It makes it worse. Abuse isn’t abuse because it’s rare; it’s abuse because of the effect it has on the child. That doesn’t change based on what country they’re in. A punch or a slap is going to feel the same no matter what the nationality is of the person receiving it, only they’re going to receive much less support and understanding in a culture that normalizes it. But the negative effects of corporal punishment on children don’t go away because you’re comfortable dismissing the scientific research that shows them. It just means you live in a place where the rejection of knowledge to preserve prejudice and tradition has been normalized—and that should frighten you.

Because the cultural acceptance of physical and emotional abuse makes a child less likely to identify it as such, they are not going to see the problem with repeating it themselves. If we could at least give it the proper name, we would know that what had been done to us was not normal or okay.

Many people struggle to actually term something abuse because they love their abuser. They think that abuse is only something a monster would do, and that isn’t their father/mother/brother/husband/wife. It can’t be a person considered normal in a given culture. But the issue is not black and white. You don’t have to be a terrible person in every way to abuse the people you love. You can have an abusive episode once or twice in your life and still generally be a good person. Abusers can be motivated by love, actually, or at least their version of it. Sometimes it doesn’t mean you’re evil, just very ignorant.

Parents never want to admit they’re bad parents. They can’t. It’s something too highly valued by the entire world for anyone to openly say, “I’m a bad parent,” and have that met with acceptance. Failing as a parent is the worst failure in the eyes of many, and that should make it especially important to do your very best. But too often all that happens is that people refuse to admit they have made terrible mistakes. Their child can lash out at them and even try to hurt themselves, but the parent will never realize it had something to do with them. They will blame anyone else before they look in the mirror because they can’t face the possibility that they failed as a parent.

When you’re surrounded by other abusive parents telling you you did the right thing, it just gives you permission to continue burying your head in the sand and ignore the damage you’ve done to your children. It’s almost like we look at our society as an example of the effects of perfect child-rearing. Why would we need to change? But Kuwait has a serious drug problem, struggles with mental illness, and one of the highest divorce rates in the world. We are doing something wrong.

We deny our children basic human rights even when they reach adulthood—we never accept that they are their own people and not first and foremost our children. Even when we have our legal rights, social and familial pressure keeps us from exercising them in full. We are asked to sacrifice our own happiness by the people who say they love us the most, not because it will actually benefit them, but because they believe they we should do what they say above all.

The message sent is that we do not deserve to be happy. We are denied things considered normal in most of the world but for some reason we are expected to do without them and not ask for more. We can’t imagine a future where this isn’t the case. Most people are allowed to marry who they love, to travel, to choose their religion, to choose their clothing, and most importantly, to make mistakes as children and teenagers without being hurt (or considered unmarry-able) . These things are not considered privileges. There are abusive parents everywhere, always, but at least this is the general expectation. What, then, is being done by parents who were never even held to this standard?

Maybe you read that list and felt uncomfortable imagining a Kuwait that is so different from the way it is now, or you interpreted it as a breakdown of religion. But that is a list of rights. Rights are what a person needs to live freely and happily; you cannot take them away and have a healthy society. Maybe this is why we care so much about reputation in Kuwait, because we cannot be happy within the framework of rules given to us, so the best we can do is pretend. Revealing our suffering is a rebellion, because we aren’t allowed to say, “This isn’t working.” Maybe we are scared of the shame that comes with failing, as if there is something bad about us that prevented us from living a good life within the bounds of good Kuwaiti moral values.

Instead of being understood, we told by Kuwaitis and Westerners alike that our culture, the very thing perpetuating our abuse, is the reason why our suffering should be invalidated and ignored. But we are still suffering, whether we are told we ought to or not.

The Expat’s Guide to Kuwait

Kuwait

Welcome to Kuwait. Great choice! I, personally, have been trying to get out for the past 15 years, but to each their own. Here is my guide to this fair nation:

Clothing and Conduct

The first thing many Westerners learn about Kuwait is that there is no alcohol and that they have to cover up. The conservatism might be scary, but what you may not realize is that Kuwaitis don’t expect foreigners to fit in. Kuwait is not a melting pot despite the many nationalities because very little is melting. Each group of expats forms their own subculture, where they do many of the same things considered acceptable in their homeland.

So, Kuwaitis don’t expect you to cover up like them but just to look like you’re trying. Arab women are experts at wearing layers of clothing to hide everything they want to and you probably can’t compete with this sort of lifelong training. What you think of is modest is probably considered immodest here anyway.

When I was in middle school, a Canadian friend of mine told me her mother bought her a one piece bathing suit when they moved to Kuwait because, “No bikinis in Kuwait.” Looking back, this is funny to me. Anywhere you can wear a one-piece in Kuwait, you can probably wear a bikini. The general public disapproves of both.

But, you may say, plenty of Arab women wear provocative clothing. Yes, but if you do it it’s perceived as disrespectful. When Arabs do it it’s just because they’re slutty and raised badly. Many Kuwaitis assume your entire continent was raised badly so your job is merely to hide it.

It is ironic that a country so hot should require so much clothing. The climate suggests Kuwait could be the world’s largest beach party. But no. My personal theory is that the people are so religious because they live in a constant reminder of hell.

The Kuwaitis You Will Meet

Kuwaitis are not a homogenous group, despite the considerable external pressure we face to become one. Your impression of us could vary greatly depending on who you interact with. These are the groups I have identified:

The very conservative and not very educated group: This group probably disapproves of you the most, but you will also have the least interaction with them if you work in the places that typically employ Western expats. Most of their opinions of Americans are based on what they see on T.V. Someone from this group once asked my sister if she had met Paris Hilton when she was studying in the U.S. In general, they’ll be fine with you as long as you don’t try to marry their children.

The conservative and educated group: For the most part, this group will treat you respectfully. Many Kuwaitis study abroad and have a decent understanding of Western culture. You will even meet some very religious people who approach their beliefs in an enlightened and well thought out way. Plenty define themselves as moderate but still seem pretty conservative compared to the rest of the world.

The liberals: This group is very hit or miss. I am in this group. (I am clearly a hit.) Some members are truly open-minded and Westernized while others think Americans snort cocaine in their bathrooms. No, they aren’t judging you for it, they think it’s normal and expect you to give them your drugs. Some people just pretend to be “open-minded” as an excuse to do whatever they want. Then they have a traditional marriage to their cousin. Approach with caution.

Dating the Locals

If you’re an expat dating an Arab man, you may find people jump to some unflattering conclusions. Your friends may warn you about Kuwaiti guys. Kuwaitis may warn you about Kuwaiti guys. The interesting thing, though, is that these stereotypes don’t seem to exist about dating Arab women, but I know plenty of Westerners married to Arab men and far fewer Westerners married to Arab women. So, by all means be cautious, but I think some of the judgment here is unfounded.

The Racial Hierarchy

My purpose here is not to offend anyone but just to be honest. So I hope we can admit that like most if not all countries in the world, Kuwait is racist. And there is a bizarrely distinct sort of pecking order.

Kuwaitis are on the top in terms of power and influence, but white expats hover nearby. They are frequently preferred for employment and housing over Kuwaitis. Schools want foreigners. Landlords think Kuwaitis are bad tenants. They will discriminate, and they will say to you directly that this building is only for foreigners. The interesting thing is that I don’t think Kuwaitis particularly like Americans or vice versa. They don’t approve of how “loose” the culture is or many of the government’s political/military moves. But they’d still rather hire an American teacher than an Egyptian one. On the other hand, many Americans adopt a sort of white supremacist attitude towards Kuwaitis. But they stay. In fact, the less they like brown people, the more likely they seem to come here in the first place. I don’t know why.

The next tier is the non-Gulf Arabs. For some reason everyone seems to dislike Egyptians. Kuwaitis dislike Palestinians because they sided with Saddam Hussain during the Gulf War. Lebanese people are considered hot but too “free.” Lebanon is kind of like the Paris of the Middle East. My uncle once said to a friend of his, “Look at how ugly you are and your mother is Lebanese. Imagine how ugly you would be if your mother was Kuwaiti.” I guess that sums it up.

The lowest group is the South Asian expats. They are treated badly by almost every other group, but sometimes more so by the people who are constantly pushed around by Kuwaitis. They’re the ones everyone seems to kick around to feel better about themselves. It makes me sad.

In Conclusion

I don’t mean to suggest Kuwait is a bad place. It has its good points. It’s comfortable. I almost never have to leave the house to get groceries. The people are usually friendly and they expect to meet many foreigners. I’ve spent most of my life here while barely speaking any Arabic. I don’t think I could get through the day in the U.S. without speaking English. One other advantage is that I find it to be less fattening than other countries because you can’t really walk down a city street and look at all the bakeries. And the grocery stores have far fewer pies, although on some days I consider this a major disadvantage.

In some ways it’s a great place to live, but it can still be a big adjustment. This is my honest take on the stuff most other guides leave out. Feel free to ask questions!