A Letter to God

 I came across one of my childhood diaries when I visited my late father's house. I found a letter I had written titled "A Letter to God," in which I complained to God about the harshness with which my mother treated me and the favoritism shown to my brother. I also asked God for a younger sister. I chuckled to myself at this thought, which had stuck with me. I had seen an Egyptian film shortly before writing that letter, also titled "A Letter to God." The heroine was a little girl who wanted her doll to talk. She went to her father and asked him if he could ask God for anything. Her father told her that God is capable of all things. She then told him that she wanted God to make her doll talk and that she would write a letter to God about it.

She went to her older friend and asked for his help in writing the letter. He helped her, but the child was in an accident that left her speechless, unconscious, and unable to move. Despite this, she survived. Her friend grew up and asked her father for her hand in marriage so he could help care for her. After consulting a doctor, they were told that it wouldn't hurt and might even help her recover. The unconscious girl became pregnant by her husband, and during childbirth, the doctor told them her life was in danger. In a moment of despair, her father found her letter to God. He, too, wrote a letter to God, asking Him to heal his daughter and bring her back to life so she could care for her child and joy could return to her life. God answered his prayer, and the girl survived, gave birth safely, and lived a happy life.

That image might seem fantastical and far removed from reality, but the child within me remained steadfast in her belief that God receives all our written and spoken messages. Nothing ever happened to me, and I never needed anything, without speaking to God, whether through prayer or writing. Now, I remember so many things that have happened to me since I was young, ever since I learned about the method of sending a message to God. I followed it, and many things came true. God answered me after many prayers, which I considered personal messages sent to Him. Things that seemed impossible came to pass, and I found myself receiving things I never imagined I would. God protected me from falling into problems or from people who wished me harm, people I wasn't even aware of. He guided me through very difficult times that I thought I would never experience. Now, immediately, take a pen and paper and write on the top of it, "A Message to God," and underneath it, write the following: "O Lord, I know that You have blessed me with all these blessings: the blessings of sight, hearing, speech, movement, and health. Be grateful to God who has bestowed all these blessings upon you. I confess my sins, O Lord, I know that I have been bad in them." The matter and that matter, and that was a weakness in myself and not a desire to disobey you. I remember your need, I need you, O God, to help me and inspire me in that matter, and make you certain that God hears what is in your soul and knows what your message contains, and His answer will be first a feeling of comfort, second a feeling of support, and third, be certain that He will keep away from you any evil and you will have His protection even from yourself. Then after that, if there is good for you in anything you asked for, it will be fulfilled, and if what you asked for is evil for you in the future, He will prevent it from you.

family

In our Arab society, the family is the center of a woman's attention. As a wife, she cares for her husband, his family, and her own. When she becomes a mother, her focus expands beyond her husband and their families to include her children, their relatives, friends, and their families. Even when her children grow up and start their own families, she becomes the primary caregiver for all the smaller families resulting from her marriage and the children born to her sons. As a daughter, wife, mother, mother-in-law, or grandmother, she is the center of everyone's attention.

In the past, not so long ago, women in our society were the focus of everyone's attention and respect. As a daughter, she was protected by her brothers and cared for by her father. When a woman marries, she becomes the focus of her husband's attention, protection, and care. Even in her old age and frailty, she finds from her children, grandchildren, and even her nephews and nieces a level of affection, care, and respect beyond description. In our Arab societies, a woman was provided with clothing, jewelry as gifts for every occasion, a dowry, and gold as a wedding present. She also had someone to furnish her home, with her husband and father sharing the cost of furnishing the house she would move into to start her new family.

When she marries, she becomes the center of her husband's attention, protection, and care. In the past, work, toil, and hardship outside the home were the domain of men, while wearing jewelry and fine clothes, arranging flowers, and managing the household with the help of maids were the domain of women, even in the humblest of classes. Civilized men would take their wives to parties and the opera, where they would wear evening gowns and jewelry. Their husbands would hold their wives' hands and treat them like queens, ensuring their safety wherever they went. They would allow them to board any means of transportation before them, and they would enter any place they visited first. In crowded places, they would shield their wives with their hands and bodies to prevent them from bumping into anyone, and they would follow them up any staircase.

In the past, homes were filled with the warmth of women, homes where the aroma of delicious homemade food, baked goods, and drinks filled the air. Each woman's recipes were passed down from grandmothers to mothers, and each woman developed and innovated to leave her own unique mark on the food, imbuing it with her passion for her family, her love, and her attention to the details that mattered to each member.

In the past, homes were filled with the warmth of women, homes where the aroma of delicious food, baked goods, and drinks filled the air. Then came the modern era, and the devils in human form needed human intellect. They spread their poisonous ideas among the women of our society, convincing them that they were slaves and servants to men and that they must demand freedom, independence, and liberation. They urged them to leave the house to work and achieve self-realization, reject male guardianship, and stop submitting to their husbands because they spent money on gifts, jewelry, food, houses, and clothes, paying for the luxurious and refined life enjoyed by women of that time. Unfortunately, women were gradually swept along by this trend until they became obsessed with it. Little by little, men withdrew from their roles, and the women of our society began to suffer a conflict between the need to reclaim their femininity and the pursuit of their dreams and the lie of self-realization. Women abandoned their homes, leaving children with nannies without supervision, and became more consumers of processed foods. Luxurious clothing was replaced by jeans and t-shirts, and jewelry and evening wear disappeared. Men no longer worried about women in crowds, and women, of their own free will, became slaves to a false and mere ambition. A cog in the daily grind of misery, she has been transformed from someone who showered everyone with love, care, attention, and delicious homemade food into a weary, irritable working woman burdened by the weight of responsibilities piling up on her shoulders between home, children, work, and social obligations.

Even men have abandoned their homes, seeking warmth outside, each according to their means and religious beliefs. Even children now live with their phones and friends, oblivious to what's happening even within their own homes. The warmth, love, and affection shared among family members have also deserted homes, leaving them cold and desolate, resembling hotels or even restaurants, as everyone eats fast food outside to avoid returning home to a place devoid of companionship. Divorce rates have skyrocketed, and nursing homes have proliferated—a practice once considered shameful. Unhealthy relationships have become widespread, and misery permeates every corner of society.

Children's Terror

When I was little, I was terrified whenever adults argued in front of me, especially if it was my parents.  was always afraid they would divorce, and I worried about my brother and me. I always sided with my mother, despite her harshness and despite my deep love for my father.

Now, when I look at the children of the world, I grieve for them. Arguments between adults are no longer just raised voices, verbal abuse, or threats of divorce. They are now exposed to witnessing murders, often very violent ones, and are witnesses to horrific domestic violence. They are also victims of violence themselves, sometimes at the hands of their own parents.

All of this isn't the worst-case scenario. The worst scenario is what Muslim children everywhere are enduring: bombing, killing, starvation, home demolitions, displacement, arrest, rape, and even their murder is merciless. Some are denied food, others medicine and treatment, living through their worst nightmares, suffering and pain until death. Some die from the cold or from homelessness, without shelter or walls to protect them from the winter's chill and the summer's heat.

Whenever I look at the children of Sudan, Gaza, the Uyghurs, and the Rohingya, I'm reminded of the terror I feel from such trivial things, whether it's an adult squabble, a mouse running past me, a small reptile crawling on the walls, or even just the fear of any insect. I now know that my generation had a wonderful, happy childhood, and my heart bleeds with horror at what children everywhere are enduring in this cruel world, which truly makes us long for Judgment Day so that those who have had mercy ripped from their hearts will be held accountable, those who used children, women, and the elderly as targets in their wars, their thirst for blood knowing no bounds.

devastating cruelty

 We women are bundles of emotions, but of course, we are not all the same. There are women who are firm, strict, and even harsh. My mother was one of those women. She believed that her harsh upbringing was the only way to make me a better person. The truth is, I did become a better person outwardly, but her harshness left me constantly needing affection. I feel unworthy of love except under certain conditions, the most important of which is that I must always be superior, always obedient, and always give my all to please others. Because of that harshness, I became more averse to harsh people and more drawn to those who treat me with tenderness.

We women are bundles of emotions, but of course, we are not all the same. There are women who are firm, strict, and even harsh. My mother was one of those women. She believed that her harsh upbringing was the only way to make me a better person. The truth is, I did become a better person outwardly, but her harshness left me constantly needing affection. I feel unworthy of love except under certain conditions, the most important of which is that I must always be superior, always obedient, and always give my all to please others. Because of that harshness, I became more averse to harsh people and more drawn to those who treat me with tenderness.

Introduction

Peace be upon you. Today is a pivotal day in my life; perhaps I'll tell you why later.

Let me introduce myself. I'm Wissam, a woman who will turn 50 in a few months. I'm from Egypt, married for the second time, and we have no children. I hold a PhD in Arts, specializing in Sociology. I worked as a social worker until a month ago, but I decided to retire—that's another story I'll tell you later. Since I was little, I've loved reading and writing, especially writing stories and my memoirs. The truth is, we women are naturally gifted at storytelling. Psychologists consider it a way to release pent-up energy and anger. In Egyptian Arabic, we call it "venting." These stories, and the sharing of them among women in our world, help regulate our hormones, especially since they fluctuate constantly.

Perhaps we all turn to friends or strangers because we don't find anyone in our immediate and social circles, even within our families, who listens to us, understands us, or appreciates our needs. Even from a young age, despite having a large family, I felt that no one listened to my honest inner dialogue. I always spoke words that didn't reflect my true feelings, fearing that I might upset or criticize the person I was speaking to, or even lose them. So I performed this task for everyone without exception, because everyone has the right to find someone to listen. But after all these years, I decided to speak my mind without fear of anyone or of harming anyone.

العشم بزيادة

 اكتر حاجة بتوجع أى ست هى العشم بزيادة، العشم فى أن الراجل اللى اختارته يكون جوزها وسندها وأبو أولادها يبقى واقف فى ضهرها يدعمها فى كل موقف تكون ضعيفة فيه يكون سور بتتحامى فيه من أى عواصف جاية على حياتها، يكون الأيد إللى تطبطب عليها لما الدنيا تيجى عليها بالجامد، يكون الحضن إللى تدفن فيها راسها وتخبى فيه دموعها لما تنهار دنيتها يكون البلسم إللى يداوى صدمتها فى قريب او صديقة او زميلة او او او، يكون الجبل إللى تركن عليه لما تخلص طاقتها وقوتها، لكن لما بتعدى عليها مواقف صعبة ولا تلاقيه سور ولا جبل ولا حضن ولا حتى نافع يكون جوز شرابات يدفوا رجليها من برد الشخص بيبقى جواها مرارة وكسرة نفس ووجع مش من كل صعوبات الحياة لا من خذلان الشخص اللى اتعشمت فيه بزيادة

بيقولوا معقدة

ساعات تلاقى ناس مش فاهمة أى حاجة مروا بتجربة جواز سوية وسليمة ماشى الله يباركلهم ، طيب لما يلاقوا حد تعبان فى جوازه أرجوكم ما تعملوش نفسكم حكام وقضاة وتحكموا على الناس اللى أنتوا ما عشتوش تجربتهم أنهم معدومى الصبر وفاشلين ومش عارفين يحافظوا على بيوتهم، ماحدش بجد بيعرف مستوى الوجع غير اللى مر بيه، وفعلا صدق الله العظيم إذ قال(لايكلف الله نفساً إلا وسعها) ماحدش عارف لو مريت بتفاصيل تجربته ووجعه وألمه وكان لك نفس تركيبة شخصيته كنت هتستحمل ولالأ ، ومش عشان شريككم فى الحياة طلع حد سوى وكويس والمشاكل اللى بينكم كانت فى المعقول وفى المحتمل بلاش تنتقدوا غيركم وتنصبوا المشانق كل شخص وله طاقة وله احتياجات تختلف عن الباقى، وكل ست لما حلمت ترتبط حلمت بشريك يساند ويسند ويطبطب ويحب ويحن سيبكم من الأسطوانة المشروخة بتاعة كل البنات عاوزة كل حاجة وكل البنات ما بتبطلش طلبات عشان دول للأسف بيلاقوا اللى يغذى أطماعهم وأحلامهم ويحققهالهم عشان كل أحلامهم مادية لكن فيه بنات أصول وبنات ناس كتير متربين وعارفين ربهم وعاوزين البيت اللى يحقق لهم الاستقرار والرجل اللى يحقق الأمان لكن لما يبقى البيت سجن لكل ست لأحلامها ووسجن ليها مع هموم ومشاكل وشعور بالتهديد من الشريك اللى المفروض يكون مصدر أمان وهى تبقى بتبنى وهو يهد، مصيبة معظم الشركاء من الرجالة أنهم دايما فاهمين أنهم مش مقصرين، تعال وقرب ودنك ليا يا عم الحاج التقصير يمكن ما يكونش فى الأكل والشرب ودفع الفواتير بس كل الحاجات دى أحب أقولك كانت متوفرة لها قبلك وأزيدك من البيت شعر كمان كان متوفرلها أب يحن عليها ويدعمها ويشجعها ويغير عليها ويحبها ويدلعها وموفر لها حاجات يمكن أمكانياتك كشاب ما تقدرش توفيها، كمان كان موفرلها كمية من الحب والايثار وتفضيلها على نفسه وخوف عليها أكتر منك بمراحل فضلت تسيب ده كله وتروح بيتك تبدأ معاك وتكون لها الأب والأخ والحبيب والزوج والصديق، سابت كل الرفاهية فى بيت باباهاعشان تبدأ معاك من الأول، اتحملت شغلها بره البيت عشان تساعد بفلوسها فى مصروف البيت وتشيل عنك بعد ما كان مرتبها لها كله تصرفه على لبسها ومكياجها وفسحها، بترجع من شغلها متبهدلة تجرى على المطبخ تطبخ وتغسل وتكنس وتمسح عشان تيجى أنت هلكان من شغلك تاكل وتنام أو تخرج رغم أنها كانت بترجع من شغلها تنام وتصحى تلاقى مامتها محضرة لها الأكل ويمكن تخرج تتفسح، استبدلتك بكل صاحباتها وقريباتها وكل أنشطة اليومية وأنت زهقانة وحاسس بالخنقة وبالملل وشايف نفسك أتورطت ولما البنت تلاقى نفسها بقت ست وراجل ومتحملة كل المسئوليات واللى معاها هربان بحجج مختلفة لازم تكره الارتباط ولما يزيد بالخيانة ويفضل الشريك يكسر فيها ويحطم لازم تبقى معقدة مش منه بس من كل الرجالة فمعلش اللى هيقعدوا ينظروا ويحكموا عليه يقعدولنا على جنب شوية وعموما دى كانت مجرد فضفضة ستات