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In the end, a man has given me less recognition than he ought—and that makes me no different from all the women who stand in line thinking about their own employers, how miserly they are with compliments and how quick to take the credit.”
“You’re right. I’m far more fortunate. I won’t get ill, or starve to death. I don’t live in fear of a man’s fists. I’m spared all of that.” “And in return, you only need to hide.” His voice was bitter. “Many of them are hiding, too, Ahmad.” “I am not talking about them!”
We cannot be their drudges, or allow them to . . . to wipe their feet upon us, all in the name of ‘hiding.’ You let them rule you far too easily.” She’d stiffened at the word drudges. “That’s all well and good, coming from you.”
“Only that you have freedoms that I don’t. You can choose to lock yourself away in your shop, and take no note of others’ opinions, and speak as little to your neighbors as you wish, and all they will think is, There goes Ahmad al-Hadid, that unsociable fellow. What do you think would happen if I were to do the same?” “They’d say, There goes Chava Levy, that unsociable woman.” She snorted. “That is the least of what they’d call me. It’s different for women, Ahmad—no, don’t argue, just listen. If a man smiles at me, I must smile back, or else I am a shrew. If a woman mentions she’s having a
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The important thing is that we talk to each other, she’d said. Arguments are uncomfortable, but silence is worse.
