According to the laws of the east: how do Russian-speaking women live in Islamic families
'25.08.2018'
Source: Rambler
At the dawn of Soviet power, our heroines would be called liberated women of the East (ok, and South). Now they are called progressives and modern women. How does it feel to grow up in an oriental family, how is it to live in direct contact with the Muslim tradition? Tell the heroine Rambler.
Nigina Saifullaeva
Brief information: Nigina - film director, screenwriter. For the picture “What is my name” I received at the Kinotavr a special graduate jury. The prize was called so: “For easy breathing and artistic integrity.”
On the ban on beards and some features of female existence in Tajikistan
I was born in Tajikistan, in Dushanbe, in 1985, and left for 1991. This time was rather Soviet - nothing radically eastern happened. I had a very secular Russian-speaking family. Family in the wide Tajik sense of the word. That is all three hundred rather secular people. Yes, the boys were circumcised, they made pilaf, they drank tea from pialok, but nobody walked in the veil, the women worked (my mother did in the Model House, the grandmother was a writer), they all smoked cigarettes, went to the guests and all that stuff. .
We had no tyranny. I have a very lively and cheerful dad. Religion was not there either. Now the situation is changing a bit in Tajikistan, but the government is trying to protect the secularism of the state. From an entirely external example, beards are forbidden there. Since this is a sign of a radical religious Muslim.
Of course, girls can not meet with the boys before marriage, they will be called jalab (“slut”) and it will be very difficult to get married. And this is the basis of the basics. But I left at a too early age to choose my own special free path. Mom made this choice for me when she took her to Moscow.
By Tajik standards in Moscow, I behaved like a complete jalab. But in Moscow - it was such a normal lively youth. “Kitchen-religion” is rather me now, after the birth of a son. Just kidding, of course, but in general circumstances make life more modest.
In general, life in each country is conditioned by a whole complex of interrelated processes. And the people who live there feel a natural situation and do not run away from it anywhere. Anyway, the majority. Even in confidential conversations, I see that my sisters and brothers are not hurt by the fact that their spouses were chosen not by themselves, but by their parents. When I tried to insist on my own, my brother said to me: "How can a mother do something bad for her son?"
As a result, this conversation turned into a drama. Because he nevertheless listened to me and married a girl he chose himself - with a bright, free, with character and other attributes.
Her parents did not approve, but agreed. As a result, she terribly dealt with our family, the marriage broke up, and I seemed to be wrong in my freedom-loving position. His second marriage, where my dad chose his wife, turned out to be perfect.
A well-read, humorous, but modest and compliant girl from a decent intelligent family turned out to be very fit not only for my brother, but also for her parents. And everyone is happy. Then I realized that the traditions and the complex of conditions and rules cannot be changed so precisely in one element.
Well, the situation can always be justified. For example, the sisters told me about the advantages of the fact that she sees her husband at the wedding conventionally the third time in her life. Like, you marry in Russia after a few years and have time to annoy each other, to pall, and in our marriage the hottest begins. All new, flirt, romance. Well, it sounds convincing in its own way. But only if mom and dad were not mistaken with the choice.
Zalina Marshenkulova
Brief information: Zalina is a journalist, blogger, media activist, feminist. The creator of the genius site of wild news Breaking Mad, the author of the telegram channel "Women's power".
The thorny path of the daughter of Kabardin to feminism
My father is a Kabardian, my mother is Russian. And although I did not grow up in Kabardino-Balkaria (I was there three times from strength), still my father tried to bring elements of Muslim culture into my life. At the same time, I must say, he is by no means an orthodox, but a completely Europeanized person. He studied, worked in Moscow, met his mother here.
I was definitely lucky: I managed to avoid a strictly patriarchal upbringing. Yes, while my father lived with us, he instructed me: “learn to cook,” “bring and serve.” The classic attitude to the woman as a maid attended. But in his defense I will say that this is typical of many Russian men, I would not blame everything on ethnic origin.
I gave repulse to sexism in 14 years, said: “Do not apply all these Muslim gadgets to me!” - I have always been violent and freedom-loving. Father was surprised, but did not argue. I went to work already in 14 for years, independence from everyone has always been important to me, I worked in a local newspaper on Yamal and also as a mass media enthusiast, that is, I studied well and worked two jobs.
I myself bought a prom dress and shoes, very proud of it and proud. In general, since childhood I declared that I wanted to put it on family happiness, for me self-realization was always the most important thing.
Of course, in response, this good old kind of crap like “marry - you will sing in a different way” flew in constantly. Well, I'm married for nine years, and nothing has changed. I still hate cooking, do not cook and do not intend to - and my husband loves to do it (in her youth she promised to marry a cook).
How did I come to feminism? At some point, I was stunned by sexist publications like “10 ways to make a man happy” - and I decided to create a telegram channel about real women who do not fit into the “sweet and most obedient” framework for women who want to make themselves happy.
Or take a look at my Breaking Mad project - an aggregator of crazy news, a website with a black humor. Many people thought for a long time that they were run by a man. When it turned out that I was a woman, the readers (70% - men) were indignant, wrote "and we thought you were our bro."
In the telegram, I most often write readers who are prevented from living by relatives. The most common story: a woman divorces a tyrant, and relatives on both sides spread rot to her. Such stories emphasize the zero status of women in society.
And men most often ask how to stop perceiving a woman as property ... In general, now, of course, there is some positive shift. Many understood the stupidity of sexist advertising, learned the term "slatstimming" and called for an end to the persecution of victims of violence.
Even some active users of Twitter, the most cynical, in my opinion, social networks, and those are on the side of feminists. Two years ago it was impossible to imagine that these misanthropes would support anti-patriarchal flashmobs.
Taus Makhacheva
Brief information: Taus is an artist. Winner of the Kandinsky Prize, the award "The Future of Europe", the All-Russian contest "Innovation". Makhacheva's works are kept in the Tate Modern Museum (London), the MUHKA Museum of Contemporary Art (Antwerp), the Moscow Museum of Modern Art, as well as in private collections in the Russian Federation and abroad.
My childhood was happy, my youth - a little less ... In the Eastern family, probably, as in the western, the most important thing is the clashes, which take place more likely in youth. With family, with myself. There were problems, but not in terms of treating me like a girl.
I grew up in my own free world. I remember, for example, one of my conversations with my grandfather, when I asked: “Grandfather, for whom should I marry? For the Avar? He says: "Well, yes, for the Avar." - “And if not for the Avar?” - “Well for the Dagestan”. - "And if not for the Dagestani?" - "Well for the Russians." - "And if not for the Russians?". He says: "For a man - it would be good."
It seems to me that when you grow up with such a grandfather, everything will be fine with you. By the way, he himself, of course, was married to a grandmother who was a thoroughbred avark.
The important moment was when I entered the London Institute of Art and Design. She said to her mother: “Here, I entered. And I don't want to study economist anymore. ” “Yes, go,” she replied. I will always be grateful to my mother for having the courage to agree. Moreover, my family helped me a lot, we all understand what these expenses are - to study abroad.
As for the problems that are created by women in the East and the South, then, you know, I was faced with an ossified idea of the role of not only women, but also men. It seems to me that we need to talk about a stagnant view, not dividing these two worlds, - people of the opposite sex are also put in a certain framework there.
The big question is what is harder - a number of prohibitions for women or expectations (which are associated with those around them with maturing men). For example, I know men who married whom they were told. And this is only one of the male dramas in Dagestan.
The development of a free creative soul in our republic is first of all not a gender problem, but difficulties associated with the system of supporting art in the country.
It has not been reformed efficiently since Soviet times, when we had creative unions, writers ’dachas, good salaries, publications were promoted, and there were substantial fees for books. Workshops were issued ... Now there is no such thing, as we know, but there is freedom of expression.
If we return to the issues of female space, then perhaps the best designation of my position will be artistic practice, or rather, my alter ego (or, as I sometimes call it, my girlfriend): Super Taus.
A superheroine from Dagestan, who quietly silently does amazing things: by the way frees the road from a giant boulder or erects a monument to two caretakers Maria Korkmasova and Khamisat Abdulaeva - these women in 1990-ies prevented Rodchenko from the Dagestan Museum from being stolen.
The power of the Super Taus is the power of the women I see around me in Dagestan. In my opinion, own fears always paralyze much more than the most terrible reality.
Alisa Ganieva
Quick Reference: Alice is a writer, literary critic, editor. Winner of the "Triumph", "Debut", the finalist of the "Russian Booker". Participant in the list of the most talented young residents of Moscow, compiled by the British edition of The Guardian.
I grew up in a family that could probably be called Soviet-intellectual, my parents worked at the Academy of Sciences. Yes, and Makhachkala, where my childhood passed, during the period of perestroika was still quite a cultural town. There both BG came to home theaters, and Smoktunovsky was still remembered (he began his career in the local drama theater). But the environment gradually changed. And besides the all-Russian offensive of gopicism, there was a massive marginalization of the people at the expense of the migrants who had rushed into the city.
Girls in Dagestan were kept in a black body, on a cane upbringing, so that they would work endlessly: milled, scrubbed, kneaded, dragged. My mother is in this sense torn. On the one hand, a program was sewn into her brain: to make a hospitable hostess out of her daughter, so that the hinkal she got is magnificent, and the pie to the miracle is thin, so that she does not go to the left, the clan does not disgrace and so that she will receive a distant relative after receiving a diploma. It was Mastkheva - to be sure for a relative, at worst, for a person from his area.
Farther. Skirts above the knee - it was a shame. You can not go to dance. The discos in Makhachkala were only daily, but any girl who visited them was automatically considered a slut.
I didn’t rush to such places, and I didn’t look very appealing in high school - board and poles instead of legs. Nevertheless, it was always uncomfortable to move around the city alone - passersby could try to hurt. Yes, I was constantly confronted with stagnant ideas about the place and role of a woman. Men sit - women serve. If they are after washing, they will not greet you by the hand, so as not to get dirty and not to spoil the perfect ritual.
Not too much has changed now - and I'm not afraid to talk about it. And here's the result: Dagestan relatives do not understand me. The pope is no longer there, but to the last he reacted painfully to the vicious criticism that all sorts of friends poured on me (public figures, politicians, officials, journalists of Dagestan).
They cursed me, and he worried and wrote exhortations to me. Mom now lives in Makhachkala and rejoices at my successes, but as soon as another critic approaches and tells her that I hate my homeland, that I am immoral or something else, she immediately begins to make excuses, repudiate - very much afraid of social condemnation. After all, it turns out, since I am not patriotic and immoral, it means that she has raised me like this. In general, her mood and support fluctuate depending on the opinions of others.
The main thing for her is that I quickly have a child, it does not matter from whom, at least from a sperm bank. One of the uncles, the brother of the deceased dad, asked me to change my name.
I do not communicate with his family, and they curse me in the corners: a traitor to Dagestan, an atheist, a lesbian (very wild fantasy, if I were a lesbian, I would not hide it), etc. But there are also those who support. My brother Omar, my two cousins Pat and Jameel, my uncle from Kizlyar. Here, perhaps, everything.
Manizha
Brief information: Manizha is a musician, performer and composer of ethno-pop songs in Russian and English. Owner of a rather amazing page on Wikipedia and 278 thousands of followers on Instagram.
About implanted values that will remain with you forever
I was born in 1991 in Dushanbe - it was there that the civil war began. Everything collapsed around, including dreams and foundations. And the family had an atmosphere of security and security. So I had no particular problems in my little world. There I was free, I became what I wanted - a musician.
However, I faced (and still face) the rejection of the Muslim community: distant relatives and people close to the family still do not perceive me as the right person or something. It seems like I'm doing some shameful thing.
I always felt like a black sheep. When I was a high school student, I had to go home before seven in the evening - iron was the rule. I did not go on dates, did not communicate with the boys. At the same time she studied in the usual Moscow school, sat at the same desk with pregnant classmates.
Around teenagers, everyone walks, evening falls on the city, and you sit at home. Sit and sit. But, you know, in the 21 age (when I was given complete freedom and I flew off to study in England), I suddenly found out that the values that instilled in me were only strengthened. I accepted them as a feature.
For example, respect for the neighbor, for the elders is really above all for me. Or such a moment: all my life I appeal to my mother for "you." I just can't do it differently. One more example. I really am not ready to lead a loose lifestyle.
And I differ from most colleagues on the stage: the musician Manizh is not a singer in a short dress and heels. Although I am constantly advised to look that way for the sake of rating growth and popularity. But this is not mine. I can succeed otherwise, I know for sure.
In general, my punching activity is hereditary: the great-grandmother was the first woman in the eastern republics of the USSR to throw off the burqa and expressly declare her desire to work, and not sit quietly in her room.
Now it would be perceived as a manifesto, and then they simply took away the children from her — choose, either children or work. Great-grandmother eventually achieved everything she wanted. She reached a very high position and even managed to get her children back.
In the next generation, activity increased. My mother received three higher educations, and now works as a psychotherapist and designer, she has her own brand Modardesigns. However, she managed to raise five children - a great woman. Or here is my grandmother, to whom I went to Tajikistan every summer. Incredibly strong and beautiful, she always taught us children to work. Paul was not allowed to mop, only a rag, his hands. She asked me, for example, to clean the pool. And I, a Moscow white-haired woman, responded: “In a sense? I will not go there! ”
Four minutes later, I scooped out the dirt with a shovel, roared, and thought how unfair it all was. Now I am full of thanks to granny - the hardening was excellent. “No one will do anything for you, only by herself,” she raised with a palm, threatening her.
