http://www.opednews.com/articles/A-Bangladeshi-Bluestocking-by-Iftekhar-Sayeed-090223-9.html
(click above for article)
Nationalism in Bangladesh is shot through with contradictions, some ludicrous and some dangerous. A local columnist has championed local culture by sounding off against Arab culture – claiming that the hijab is an import from the latter. This would be risible but for the political consequences for that embattled Arab people, the Palestinians.
Showing posts with label hijab. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hijab. Show all posts
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
jamhoorie islamie iran zindabad
The Iranian mullahs may sometimes do what appears silly – such as clamping down on 'bad hijab'; but we must keep in mind that the elite of Iran are very pro-Israel, pro-American and anti-Palestinian (I know, I have many friends among them); and if you look at a military map of the Middle East, you'll find that the only country that has no US military bases is Iran.
Iran has been a close friend of the Palestinians, and the Iranian elite (those tempted to show off their coloured hair in public) hate the mullahs for it.
When American presidents wish to be popular, they kill civilians in a distant country; when Iran's mullahs wish to be popular, they crack down on the elite. Which one is worse?
Far from demonising Iran, we should appreciate its lone attempt to help Muslim countries: it took in Afghan refugees, despite its own economic problems and despite the drugs that came in their wake; it has financed and aided Hamas and Hezbollah, offering the only resistance to Israel's expansionism. It is in constant threat of being bombed by Israel and/or the US.
Iran's planes frequently crash - why? Because America won't let it buy the parts it needs to keep them safe. Despite American and European intransigence, Iran has a great record in promoting health and education. Today, more women are enrolled in universities than during the Shah's time.
I for one know that if Bangladesh is ever bombed by the west, only one country will come to our aid - Iran
Iran has been a close friend of the Palestinians, and the Iranian elite (those tempted to show off their coloured hair in public) hate the mullahs for it.
When American presidents wish to be popular, they kill civilians in a distant country; when Iran's mullahs wish to be popular, they crack down on the elite. Which one is worse?
Far from demonising Iran, we should appreciate its lone attempt to help Muslim countries: it took in Afghan refugees, despite its own economic problems and despite the drugs that came in their wake; it has financed and aided Hamas and Hezbollah, offering the only resistance to Israel's expansionism. It is in constant threat of being bombed by Israel and/or the US.
Iran's planes frequently crash - why? Because America won't let it buy the parts it needs to keep them safe. Despite American and European intransigence, Iran has a great record in promoting health and education. Today, more women are enrolled in universities than during the Shah's time.
I for one know that if Bangladesh is ever bombed by the west, only one country will come to our aid - Iran
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
sexist observations on blue stockings
sexist observations on blue stockings
Whenever a bluestocking descants at length on the glories of democracy, I am focused on the glory beneath her saree or kameez or T-shirt.
What kind of lingerie must an emancipated woman like her get into? As she talks about transparency, I have another kind of transparency in mind. Nude in my head, she goes on and on about how we are all equal beneath. True, true! But some are surely more equal!
As she gets excited and uncrosses her thighs, my pulse races.
"We need deeper penetration of democracy!" she exclaims, red in the cheeks.
Deeper! Deeper! Absolutely, my beauty.
"Deepening and enlarging democracy, that's what it's all about," she raves.
Is she making a Freudian pass at me, I wonder wistfully. The ballot box with its tiny aperture becomes a metaphor – of democracy entering the sacred orifice, a bacchic rite, a Tantric orgy....
She keeps fisting her fingers, up and down, up and down...what a repressed female, I think to myself. Then she licks her lips, naturally devoid of lipstick (intellectuals don't wear lipstick, as you know). The layer of saliva gleams on her upper orifice, hinting at – o, so much!
Why does Plain Jane part her hair down the middle, and not visit a beauty parlour and get it done up nice like other women?
The parting so reminds me of the other parting! It is agony.
Then her face – utterly devoid of grace. Why can't she get a facial? I don't mean the kind of facial they get in lewd movies, of course.
Bluestockings wear as little as possible – they deplore the hijab and the niqab. Which is just fine by men folk like me: the fewer clothes women wear, the more happy are men.
As the poet observed:
"No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on
But Beauty's self she is
When all her robes are gone."
I then give my guest an ice cream cone, and she finally shuts up and sucks and licks on it deliciously.
Whenever a bluestocking descants at length on the glories of democracy, I am focused on the glory beneath her saree or kameez or T-shirt.
What kind of lingerie must an emancipated woman like her get into? As she talks about transparency, I have another kind of transparency in mind. Nude in my head, she goes on and on about how we are all equal beneath. True, true! But some are surely more equal!
As she gets excited and uncrosses her thighs, my pulse races.
"We need deeper penetration of democracy!" she exclaims, red in the cheeks.
Deeper! Deeper! Absolutely, my beauty.
"Deepening and enlarging democracy, that's what it's all about," she raves.
Is she making a Freudian pass at me, I wonder wistfully. The ballot box with its tiny aperture becomes a metaphor – of democracy entering the sacred orifice, a bacchic rite, a Tantric orgy....
She keeps fisting her fingers, up and down, up and down...what a repressed female, I think to myself. Then she licks her lips, naturally devoid of lipstick (intellectuals don't wear lipstick, as you know). The layer of saliva gleams on her upper orifice, hinting at – o, so much!
Why does Plain Jane part her hair down the middle, and not visit a beauty parlour and get it done up nice like other women?
The parting so reminds me of the other parting! It is agony.
Then her face – utterly devoid of grace. Why can't she get a facial? I don't mean the kind of facial they get in lewd movies, of course.
Bluestockings wear as little as possible – they deplore the hijab and the niqab. Which is just fine by men folk like me: the fewer clothes women wear, the more happy are men.
As the poet observed:
"No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on
But Beauty's self she is
When all her robes are gone."
I then give my guest an ice cream cone, and she finally shuts up and sucks and licks on it deliciously.
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