From Al-Awda News. . Fingerprints

by Samah Jabr

MY GRANDMOTHER cried when I was born just 24 years ago today. Her tears did not run down her cheeks in awe of the miracle of birth nor in relief that my mother and I were recovering nicely. Instead, her cry was a salty sign of her disappointment. I was not a boy. This on top of the fact that my mother had already given our family three daughters and no boys.

“Four girls in a row,” my grandmother said sorrowfully. Father comforted her. “Come, now, all children are a gift of God. This child shall be Samah, a name that means forgiveness. I hope she will be forgiving of you, a grandmother who cried at her birth. Come, now, hold our precious new baby.”

Luckily my grandmother’s lament was not long lived, and she quickly became my staunchest advocate, bragging that I was smarter than this or that boy cousin. Grandmother became my “Granny,” a name reflecting the warmth that grew between us. But story of her tears became part of family lore. I learned quite early that some people in Arab cultures (and other cultures, as well) prefer boy children to girls. Granny was simply acting out of tradition.

A month ago, during my training in an obstetrics ward, I came across a mother who had just delivered her fifth baby girl. Refusing to nurse or hold the baby, the mother cried bitterly at the hex on her life. “All girls!” she moaned. “Please God, take this child from my care.”

Just across the hall from my charge’s room sat her husband and mother-in-law, having a full-blown argument in the highest decibels. I patted the hand of my patient and went across the hall. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It is time for my son to take another wife. Five girls!” bemoaned the mother-in-law. “We will have no one to carry on our line, no one to look after my son in his old age. Enough is enough. Look at my son – strong, well-built. It’s her fault that my son has no boys.”

The strong, well-built son (with seemingly little brain) simply nodded his head in agreement. Evidently, he didn’t have enough education to know that fathers, not mothers, provide the chromosome that determines a child’s sex. I sighed, wondering if I could educate this family in modern biology.

We doctors have an obligation to teach as well as heal. At the very least, we have to tell the truth in hopes that our comments will lead to informed choices. I decided to try, leaving medicine and science out of it.

“You know,” I said, “in many cultures these days, men and women marry and use both family names to identify themselves and their children. Mother and father work together to support both sets of parents in old age. My friends Nada and Charles Boulous-Hammoud are doing this. Nada Boulous and Charles Hammoud are now Nada and Charles Boulous-Hammoud. Both hold jobs; both take care of their children and both work with their parents to make family responsibility the duty of all. Sharing and caring is not dependent on being male or female.”

The mother and son stared at me in silence. My thoughts turned to my aunt, the only female obstetrician in Jerusalem, the mother of four bright lovely girls and not a single boy. I remembered what one woman said when she was referred to my aunt – “I won’t go to that doctor. If she’s so smart, why would she mother girls and no boys?”

I’M celebrating my birthday here in London where the rainy season has been brightened with cheers for the life of one woman, the Queen Mum. While her husband receives little mention, Queen Elizabeth, her daughter, is in the spotlight. The Queen Mother is 100 years old and still in gracious form. There’s justice in that, I think to myself.

Many men and women in the Arab world dismiss the wider world as hedonistic and unworthy. For many people in Arabia, men rule and women comply; that is our way. All over the globe, some people who will watch the Queen Mum’s parade on television and bask in the pageantry. Perhaps there will be a touch of resentment because the honoree is a she.

Even though I dislike Monarchies, I am amused by the British Royal family and the one century old Queen Mum holding her head high. Her daughter, not her son, is the reigning monarch. This is no small accomplishment. In America, women and men often scorn female politicians. Sexism defeats women, keeping them out of office and well below corporate glass ceilings. It is interesting that countries like Britain seem to give women greater acceptance.

Men are taught by the mothers of men. Neither sex is absolved from the duty of creating inequality of the sexes. I am studying medicine in the paths of my sister and aunt. I am proud of my aunt and my father is proud of us both. Not all men in the Arab World are turning away from what science and religion teaches us about responsibility and equality.

During the Jahiliya, the pre-Islamic era in the history of Arabs, parents once buried their baby girls alive, carefully nurturing their sons. Prophet Mohammed’s message, like those of the prophets before him, was about loving and caring for all in the family.

On my own birthday, I think back to that unhappy mother in the Holy Land. Not knowing what else to say, I left mother-in-law and son in the waiting room and walked back into the room of the mother who would not nurse or hold her baby. I picked up the baby in my arms and cooed at her while the mother watched.

Then I gently laid the child in her mother’s arms. “This is your gift from God,” I told her. “Love her and nurture her. You and I are our sister’s keepers.” I walked away praying. -Published 9/8/00  © Palestine Report.