What about 'Sharia' law? What do you know about it?
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By Honor Diaries .entry-meta November 5, 2015
The following true story was sent to us by an activist in Jordan who recorded this first-hand account from a Kuwaiti woman. It was translated from Arabic into English.
A strange feeling surrounded me. Something was telling me to rip off my gown, the terrible gown, the gown of my marriage, chosen for me by my family even though it didn’t fit. But my family liked it, so I had to wear it.
I used to lock the door to my room for hours to keep out the man they told me was my husband. The first time I met him, alone, was the night of our wedding. He said, “We got married because my mother told me that you are suitable for me”. That was all it took.
I stood up like a cross in front of him, and he jumped on me like a hungry predator. The night of my marriage was like a funeral to me. Society tells me that it’s my fault I am a woman, like an apple that must be tossed out before rotting.
Before I was forced to marry this man, I fell in love with another, with whom I dreamed of having children. We had even chosen our children’s names. Society blames me for falling in love and thinking I had the right to choose who I would spend the rest of my life with. For this, my family hit me repeatedly, and I turned into a rotten apple. “It’s a disgrace that you thought you could marry who you want”, they said, “Since when does a girl have the right to choose her life-partner?!”
Is it such a disgrace to choose a man who accepts me the way I am, despite my imperfections, and whose faults I love as much as his qualities? “Yes”, my mother said, “it is a disgrace. You want to embarrass us.”
“I didn’t make a mistake”, I replied. “I fell in love with someone, but I didn’t rebel against God with my love. Our lord loved Aisha and married her, so why is it a disgrace?”
She hit me again. “It looks like you need to stay in your room, to get rid of your wayward thoughts” she answered.
Four corners and a roof, and below them, me. When would the walls grow lips to speak to me? “Let me tell you about the mistake I made”, I said to the wall, “I loved a man. But my family found out, and they looked for someone else with whom to hide me. I yearn for the safety of my true love”. My family served me up on a platter.
The next day, I woke up in a bed that was not my own without my favorite pajamas, with a silk night-gown covering my body, but not really covering much at all. I tried to cover my body with my arms and look to my right. A man fast asleep laid next to me, with his mouth open like a hungry bull. I curled up in a ball more and more, and sobbed in silence. I am now in someone else’s custody, and he was chosen by my family. After that night, I realized that this is where I live.
Sharia law ruins their lives.