It's been 25 days since my last post.
I've wanted to write, I've wanted to share, but I've been speechless.
Utterly speechless.
As a considerably outspoken Egyptian studying social media who loves to write, naturally I've been asked where my two cents are on the whole situation. But night after night, between January 25th until today, I paused at my keyboard...speechless.
Today, I will not write about the influence of social media on the Egyptian revolution. Today, I won't let my keyboard win - I will write about my Egyptian revolution. Not my political position, not my opinion of Mubarak - but my very own personal Egyptian revolution.
So here goes nothing.
These past couple of weeks have been intense...an emotional roller coaster that I, as well as the rest of the world, was completely unprepared for. I was angry, I was scared, I was frustrated, anxious, nervous, but most importantly, I was hopeful.
I was hopeful that the country that was known worldwide as "Om el donya" (the Mother of the world) would one day be as beautiful as she should be. The country who's warmth, kindness, and light heartedness could only be compared to the embrace of a mother. A country who's civilization dates so far back that it baffled my mind that it could be so behind nations 1/10th it's age.
There's a famous saying in Egypt that claims that Masr heyya omy or "Egypt is my mother" - my experience explains why.
I was genuinely angry at first. I think back to the first few days where I was frustrated with the planned revolution of "Jan 25th" teasing that only Egyptians would "plan" a revolution. I was scared they would lose and bruise the country's esteem worse than it already was. Egypt couldn't afford anymore heartbreaks. I was angry because the corruption had trickled so far down to the poorest streets and people that I feared they would tear each other to pieces. "The revolution has no leader!" I would shout and tweet, scared shitless of what was to come. My anger was undoubtedly fear based.
Have you ever experienced fear so deep that only your mother could shake you out of? Om el donya shook me awake. She showed me that although corruption had poisoned her children for quite some time, the essential core that she raised them with stood still. As I worried about my parents, family, and friends in the chaos of looting and thugs, Om el donya comforted me with the chivalry she had implanted in her men, sending boys and men out to protect the streets.
After the chaos, she reminded me of the beauty of sha3b el masry (the Egyptian people). The demonstrations were peaceful and happy, more like celebrations. The Egyptian people were fearless, they had decided and were just waiting for the government and the rest of the world to catch up. They would not rest, but with no violence. They laughed, they sang, they cried, they danced, and true to Egyptian style - they cracked jokes. Even in the most emotional times, they cracked jokes! Yes, there was undeniable tension between people (including ridiculous Facebook fights), but what's a revolution without a little tension, eh?
I cried at the sight of people cleaning the streets after the protests. I have never been so proud in my life. I may have been born and raised in Washington, D.C. and while I do consider myself a proud American, the Nile runs through my blood...my parents raised me with Egyptian values that I can't deny. My brain is American, but my heart is Egyptian.
I watched the world get blown away by the grace of the Egyptian people. I watched as Coptics and Muslims protected each other during prayer. I watched my American sister-in-law beautifully embrace her husband's culture. I watched Egyptians all over the world (including myself) fall in love with Egypt all over again, and truly feel the guilt of mistreating and insulting her. I watched my people change Egypt and the world forever.
And for that I am proud.
I am still scared of what's to come...where will we go from here? Who knows?
But I do know one thing - I am not pro-Mubarak. I am not anti-Mubarak. I am Egyptian and damn proud of it, and I will continue to pray that God protect Egypt and the Egyptian people. I will continue to pray that the Om el donya gets treated the way she deserves.
I've wanted to write, I've wanted to share, but I've been speechless.
Utterly speechless.
As a considerably outspoken Egyptian studying social media who loves to write, naturally I've been asked where my two cents are on the whole situation. But night after night, between January 25th until today, I paused at my keyboard...speechless.
Today, I will not write about the influence of social media on the Egyptian revolution. Today, I won't let my keyboard win - I will write about my Egyptian revolution. Not my political position, not my opinion of Mubarak - but my very own personal Egyptian revolution.
So here goes nothing.
These past couple of weeks have been intense...an emotional roller coaster that I, as well as the rest of the world, was completely unprepared for. I was angry, I was scared, I was frustrated, anxious, nervous, but most importantly, I was hopeful.
I was hopeful that the country that was known worldwide as "Om el donya" (the Mother of the world) would one day be as beautiful as she should be. The country who's warmth, kindness, and light heartedness could only be compared to the embrace of a mother. A country who's civilization dates so far back that it baffled my mind that it could be so behind nations 1/10th it's age.
There's a famous saying in Egypt that claims that Masr heyya omy or "Egypt is my mother" - my experience explains why.
I was genuinely angry at first. I think back to the first few days where I was frustrated with the planned revolution of "Jan 25th" teasing that only Egyptians would "plan" a revolution. I was scared they would lose and bruise the country's esteem worse than it already was. Egypt couldn't afford anymore heartbreaks. I was angry because the corruption had trickled so far down to the poorest streets and people that I feared they would tear each other to pieces. "The revolution has no leader!" I would shout and tweet, scared shitless of what was to come. My anger was undoubtedly fear based.
Have you ever experienced fear so deep that only your mother could shake you out of? Om el donya shook me awake. She showed me that although corruption had poisoned her children for quite some time, the essential core that she raised them with stood still. As I worried about my parents, family, and friends in the chaos of looting and thugs, Om el donya comforted me with the chivalry she had implanted in her men, sending boys and men out to protect the streets.
After the chaos, she reminded me of the beauty of sha3b el masry (the Egyptian people). The demonstrations were peaceful and happy, more like celebrations. The Egyptian people were fearless, they had decided and were just waiting for the government and the rest of the world to catch up. They would not rest, but with no violence. They laughed, they sang, they cried, they danced, and true to Egyptian style - they cracked jokes. Even in the most emotional times, they cracked jokes! Yes, there was undeniable tension between people (including ridiculous Facebook fights), but what's a revolution without a little tension, eh?
I cried at the sight of people cleaning the streets after the protests. I have never been so proud in my life. I may have been born and raised in Washington, D.C. and while I do consider myself a proud American, the Nile runs through my blood...my parents raised me with Egyptian values that I can't deny. My brain is American, but my heart is Egyptian.
I watched the world get blown away by the grace of the Egyptian people. I watched as Coptics and Muslims protected each other during prayer. I watched my American sister-in-law beautifully embrace her husband's culture. I watched Egyptians all over the world (including myself) fall in love with Egypt all over again, and truly feel the guilt of mistreating and insulting her. I watched my people change Egypt and the world forever.
And for that I am proud.
I am still scared of what's to come...where will we go from here? Who knows?
But I do know one thing - I am not pro-Mubarak. I am not anti-Mubarak. I am Egyptian and damn proud of it, and I will continue to pray that God protect Egypt and the Egyptian people. I will continue to pray that the Om el donya gets treated the way she deserves.
I love the notion of falling in love with Egypt all over again.
ReplyDelete