On my daily commute a couple of days ago, I was listening to the morning programme on MBC FM, and there was a discussion of a recent report about prevalence of depression among Saudi women. The programme interviewed Dr. Jamal Altowerki, consultant psychiatrist at the National Guard Hospital in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I found the topic so interesting that I googled the report once I got home, and that sparked a mini-research into the subject by yours truly.
According the report published by Ash-Sharg Alawsat Newspaper online on June 10, 2010, 20% to 60% of Saudi women suffer from depression. Dr. Altowerki argued that it is only 20% of Saudi women, and that this percentage is close to the results of the global study published by WHO. However, Dr. Altowerki believes, based on his practice, that the underlying factors of depression in Saudi women are "not receiving basic rights." If you have read my previous post, this certainly rings true.
My search led me to a few more interesting finds. In an article on Reuters.com published on December 18, 2007, Dr. Salwa Alkhatib, a researcher at King Saud University, conducted a study on suicide survivors in 2006 and found that 96 cases were women as compared to only 4 men. She added that "the hospital where she works as a counsellor receives on average 11 suicide attempts by women each month." She also noted that they use light doses of medicine during daytime, which are clearly cries for help rather than serious attempts to end their lives.
Dr. Alkhatib explained that, "Women go through severe depression due to social pressure. The differentiation between males and females inside families contributes to growing pressure ... Men who are raised to be superior mostly look down on women. They develop abusive behaviour to express power over them." As a Saudi woman who watched her younger brothers enjoy the privileges of going out without having to undergo an investigation, having transportation independence, and even being the pride and joy of the elders of the family although what they achieved pales in comparison with what I have, I absolutely can relate to this explanation.
Most interestingly is the fact that Dr. Jawahir Abduljabbar, member of the Epidemiology Unit at King Faisal Specialist Hospital and Research Center, has submitted a project proposal entitled, " Epidemiology of Depression Amongst Saudi Arabian Women: Prevalence and Risk Factors." The project description goes to explain that, " Although biological or sex differences cannot be excluded, it is widely argued that psychosocial factors account for most of this difference between the sexes. The prevailing socio-cultural factors and unequal power relations between men and women in Saudi society are believed to play in promoting or impeding mental health. This research will attempt to estimate the prevalence of depression amongst Saudi Women and to identify socio-cultural factors, stressors and life events, which might endanger women’s mental health."
If Dr. Abduljabbar's project survives politics, it will scientifically prove that the law-backed social constraints are causing depression in Saudi women, which in turn deprives Saudi women, their children and families, and their society from their potential contributions. Hopefully, these new findings will reach the right eyes and ears, helping to change the status quo of Saudi women being deprived of their rightful adult status. I know this would not be done for the sake of Saudi women, but at least it would be done for the sake of a healthy and vibrant human resources-based Saudi economy.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
To Drive or Not to Drive
A friend of mine sent me a link to a Facebook group called, and I roughly translate, Saudis for Women Driving in Saudi Arabia. This made me wonder how focused we are on the nitty-gritty we are losing sight of the big picture. How about a group for Saudis for Saudi Women Adult Status?
Do not get me wrong, many are the times when I have to wait in a store or at a place and see my fellow men instinctively get into their cars and drive away, not thinking twice about having to call a driver, coordinate a pickup schedule and be stranded somewhere waiting for their ride and I wish I had that privilege. However, how useful is the right to drive if we women still cannot exercise that privilege unless we are permitted to by a loving father, a protective brother, a doting husband, or a concerned son?
Almost everyday there is a newspeice or such in the local papers that shows how women struggle to finish paperwork yet cannot because they do not have a "guardian's" approval. You look up the procedures for acquiring a passport, and there you find separate procedures for Saudi Women and Children. When did being a woman equate being a minor? Every little thing in my life as a Saudi woman requires that sign-off from my "guardian": getting into college, taking a semester off, leaving the campus before 12 p.m. even if I do not have classes, applying to work, getting married, accepting a better work offer or going to a better school outside the country, everything that Saudi men, and citizen of other Gulf States, are privileged to do.
By contrast, if a Saudi woman is to commit a crime, even unknowingly as her world is confined by what her "guardian" permits her to do, she, not her "guardian", is going to receive punishment. Now, how is that fair? If I am not fit to make my own decisions, and if someone else has been given the power to make those decisions for me, how is it that I am going to benefit from punishment? I have no brains, nor do I have legal power to make my own decisions and thus learn from my mistake, remember? I am but a feeble-minded Saudi woman.
A group of Saudi women launched a public plea called "My Wali, i.e. guardian, Knows What's Best for Me". Another group of Saudi women started a counter-plea called "My Wali Doesn't Know Anything About Me". Those are very interesting social movements we are witnessing. Maybe, someday if I ever get married, my daughter will live in a Saudi Arabia that does not group her with children.
Do not get me wrong, many are the times when I have to wait in a store or at a place and see my fellow men instinctively get into their cars and drive away, not thinking twice about having to call a driver, coordinate a pickup schedule and be stranded somewhere waiting for their ride and I wish I had that privilege. However, how useful is the right to drive if we women still cannot exercise that privilege unless we are permitted to by a loving father, a protective brother, a doting husband, or a concerned son?
Almost everyday there is a newspeice or such in the local papers that shows how women struggle to finish paperwork yet cannot because they do not have a "guardian's" approval. You look up the procedures for acquiring a passport, and there you find separate procedures for Saudi Women and Children. When did being a woman equate being a minor? Every little thing in my life as a Saudi woman requires that sign-off from my "guardian": getting into college, taking a semester off, leaving the campus before 12 p.m. even if I do not have classes, applying to work, getting married, accepting a better work offer or going to a better school outside the country, everything that Saudi men, and citizen of other Gulf States, are privileged to do.
By contrast, if a Saudi woman is to commit a crime, even unknowingly as her world is confined by what her "guardian" permits her to do, she, not her "guardian", is going to receive punishment. Now, how is that fair? If I am not fit to make my own decisions, and if someone else has been given the power to make those decisions for me, how is it that I am going to benefit from punishment? I have no brains, nor do I have legal power to make my own decisions and thus learn from my mistake, remember? I am but a feeble-minded Saudi woman.
A group of Saudi women launched a public plea called "My Wali, i.e. guardian, Knows What's Best for Me". Another group of Saudi women started a counter-plea called "My Wali Doesn't Know Anything About Me". Those are very interesting social movements we are witnessing. Maybe, someday if I ever get married, my daughter will live in a Saudi Arabia that does not group her with children.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Boredom
It's an interesting feeling, boredom. With all the work I have to do, the studies I'm planning for, and my busy personal life, I can't seem to shake off boredom.
"I am bored." I've said it. I've heard it. What do you do when you have the means, the health, and nowhere to go?
Nevertheless, I have a sneaking suspicion this paralyzing boredom is not for lack of entertaining activities, be they duties or pleasures. I think it is because I am not doing what I had planned to be doing by now. So, to argue semantics, it is actually lack of interest, rather than boredom.
I had planned and worked to create a life somewhere else; in a place where I would be accepted as the misfit my circles seem to think I am. Years of my life have been spent planning, arguing, fighting, pleading, and trying one way after another has been blocked. Years later, and here I am, staring at the same white ceiling I have come to dread as I lie awake at night wailing and raking my brains for a way out. Hope has been replaced with a chilling fear: would I spend the next decade in this same place? Would I die in this room? Would my potential go unfulfilled, my goals unrealized? This is the reality I cannot bear to live with everyday, and thus subconsciously hide it under a mask of boredom and thrill seeking.
If you are here, voluntarily or not, then you might relate. If you do, as much as it breaks my heart that someone has to endure what I have to, it is comforting to know I am not alone.
"I am bored." I've said it. I've heard it. What do you do when you have the means, the health, and nowhere to go?
Nevertheless, I have a sneaking suspicion this paralyzing boredom is not for lack of entertaining activities, be they duties or pleasures. I think it is because I am not doing what I had planned to be doing by now. So, to argue semantics, it is actually lack of interest, rather than boredom.
I had planned and worked to create a life somewhere else; in a place where I would be accepted as the misfit my circles seem to think I am. Years of my life have been spent planning, arguing, fighting, pleading, and trying one way after another has been blocked. Years later, and here I am, staring at the same white ceiling I have come to dread as I lie awake at night wailing and raking my brains for a way out. Hope has been replaced with a chilling fear: would I spend the next decade in this same place? Would I die in this room? Would my potential go unfulfilled, my goals unrealized? This is the reality I cannot bear to live with everyday, and thus subconsciously hide it under a mask of boredom and thrill seeking.
If you are here, voluntarily or not, then you might relate. If you do, as much as it breaks my heart that someone has to endure what I have to, it is comforting to know I am not alone.
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