The 137 Haram List
The list of things I was not allowed to mention in my Saudi classroom- from my book EVERYTHING IS HARAM (EXCEPT THE SHAWERMA)- MY SAUDI STORIES
After being followed home, I decided to give the niqab a try. Bandar’s wife Noor gave him one to give to me, no doubt after hearing about the incident at the Hamra. Bandar presented it to me in a gift bag along with some dates.
I tried my best to fasten my hijab with bobby pins, wrapping the long black scarf over my head twice until the remainder hung down the side of my face and neck as YouTube had instructed. I put the niqab over my face and tried not to think of bandits and ninjas- but couldn’t help myself. I tied the face cover around the back of my head and adjusted it to cover my eyebrows. If you’re wearing a niqab and your eyebrows are showing, you’re doing it wrong, according to Saudi standards.
I struggled to see, breathe, and hear as I fought to wipe the image of the man’s intense gaze from my mind. I shuddered when I thought about him knowing where I lived and pulled the knot tighter around my head.
My face is haram.
And with this thought came also the sense that somehow simply being female was troublesome, something I should apologize for. In this place where everything seemed to be forbidden, was being a woman haram until proven innocent?
When Bandar pulled up in front of campus, I got out too quickly, stepped on my abaya, and fell to the asphalt, spilling the contents of my purse and jamming my elbow into the hard ground. I let out an ouffff sound and Shouting Man was over me in a flash, making sure no cars ran over me as I collected my things. He frowned over me, and I lifted the niqab so I could breathe and tell him thank you. He raised his eyebrows, and I thought I saw recognition in his eyes. He gave a curt nod of his head, shaking his headdress around him in the air before moving away.
Wearing a niqab was like swimming with squids and realizing I didn’t possess the same propulsion mechanism they did. I didn’t have the advantage of years of practice maneuvering under so much fabric; I was unskilled and swimming out of my depth. I no longer had peripheral vision, and my hearing was impaired under the suffocating cloth. I took small sips of whatever air I could under the niqab and walked toward the wide mouth of the university. How did these women do this every day?
Like the rest of the women, I entered the building through the initial checkpoint where the others stood, unfastening niqabs and shedding abayas. Some tossed their thick hair, and others blotted their makeup after doing so. I pulled my niqab from my head and drew in a deep breath of air, as if I had been underwater too long. Some stared. I had worn my niqab for less than fifteen minutes and had already collapsed and almost suffocated.
Expats affectionately called Saudi women ninjas. The outfit was the reason for this, but the more time I spent with my students, I was unable to gauge whether they had within them the ability to fight or to question at all. For those who didn’t, how lucky to be able to accept the status quo, to not question their society, to not have to grapple with life’s questions the way I always had. I know people had human experiences everywhere, but in this society, all of life’s questions were answered for you by way of Islam. But I also knew that Saudi women came from a formidable bloodline and that when they decided to fight for a cause, they risked life and limb for things like inclusion, driving privileges, and guardianship system reformation. Fighting requires a governing ideology, and this was a culture of submission.
I moved with the pace and flow of the women and climbed the crowded staircases into the mint- green labyrinth, slowly surer of this maze and my place in it. I was learning which staircases to take and which elevators to avoid during the morning rush into class, where staff and students scrambled to be at their assigned places on time.
I entered the third-floor landing and saw teachers clustered around an announcement posted on the wall. Brittany and Selam, two Black women from the Hamra, one African American and one Eritrean British, squinted at it as if it were too bright.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Crazy!” American Brittany shrieked.
“Wow, fashion?!” British Selam said.
I leaned in. Three sheets of paper outlined a list of culturally sensitive haram topics. They were ranked by “avoid” or “caution.”
All instructors are advised to thoroughly read and adhere to the contents of this list. Subjects listed are to be approached cautiously or avoided altogether. If in doubt, avoid the topic altogether and ask your supervisor for help.
I glanced at the list:
Adopted children and children conceived out of wedlock.
Alcoholic and intoxicating drinks
Birthdays
Blended-family concepts (stepsiblings living in the same house)
Boyfriends and girlfriends
Celebrities – actors, musicians, dancers, etc.
Christmas
Concerts
Dating
Demons
Dramas
Drugs
Euthanasia
Eating pork
Filmmaking
Any holiday other than EID al Fitr and Eid Al-Adha
Fashion
HIV and AIDS can only be discussed from a scientific point of view.
Homosexuality
Love stories, being in love, falling in love, love at first sight.
Magic and magicians
Mental situations, mental diseases (only to be discussed from a medical standpoint)
Mixed-gender situations
Movies – only when talking about a particular movie or when the word “movie” is used to refer to the word “cinema.”
Music and musical instruments
Number 13
Partner relationships – unmarried couples
People not dressed properly, wearing shorts (men or women)
Plastic surgery, physical appearance changes
Political topics, elections
Professional dancing
Psychologists or psychiatrists
Religion
Sculpture – animal and human faces
Sexually transmitted diseases
Singing and witchcraft
Social networking (only to be used in an Islamic or educational POV)
Superpowers or superheroes (exercise caution when discussing what makes a hero)
Superstitions – beliefs not based on facts, scientific knowledge, connected with ideas about magic etc.; examples include crossing fingers to wish for good luck, the number 13.
Television – shows like So You Think You Can Dance or American Idol that have anything to do with dancing or music.
Theater (caution when talking about a specific theatrical production)
Valentine’s Day and other Western holidays
Mishigas. The Hebrew word for “nonsense” randomly floated up from my non-Jewish subconscious recesses. After a cursory scan, I realized I had already been in frequent violation. Religion, really? When Wahhabis lived and breathed it? Did the KSU administrators mean that we should avoid proselytizing any other religion than Islam? And fashion? Dramas? Sculpture?
I knew adoption could lead to conversations about conceiving children out of wedlock and that superheroes might be misconstrued to represent angels; there could be some conflict there. But the number 13, should I skip it altogether? 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 … 14 Mishigas!
I thought of the stories I had heard about Valentine’s Day in Riyadh, a day when the colors red and pink are haram. On February 14th, mutawa were said to hunt down unmarried lovers, combing florists and restaurants for signs of public, haram ardor.
I pulled my phone out of my bag, took a picture of the list and finished reading it as I walked into the staff room to unlock my desk and get my teaching materials. I had printed out a quiz on half sheets of paper to conserve resources and went over them to make sure none of the newly outlined haram items were on it.
My nervousness at leading a class had begun to dissipate over the last weeks but rose again shiny and new with the arrival of the haram list. I knew I would never mention a pig for the rest of my days, but now there were 137 things to either avoid or approach (or deflect) with caution, and it felt like a near impossible task.
At 7:15 a.m. my girls sauntered into class at their usual leisurely pace, some with abayas draped around them, some alone, and others in noisy clusters.
I took attendance by asking questions and correcting grammar. I gave out my 137-friendly quiz and moved through the book, scanning for red flags. So far, so good. I opened the lesson with a discussion point I thought they might find interesting.
“Wadha, good morning,” I said.
“Good morning, Teacher,” Wadha replied, looking up from her chair.
“Wadha, what do you like about America?” I asked.
Her eyes moved up to the ceiling in search of an answer and back down to me. “Nothing,” she said.
Right. Maybe I needed to check myself for cultural narcissism. America is only 5 percent of the world’s population, and sometimes we act like we’re the 95. Not everyone likes the USA. I wasn’t sure how much these women knew about the outside world and to what degree international TV and the Internet influenced them.
“Alanood, tell me, what do you like about the U.S., if anything?” I asked.
Alanood perked up. She always wore carefully applied makeup and completed my quizzes and assignments thoroughly. She loved being called on, and I knew she would have an answer to keep the lesson alive, which I hoped would prompt them to think about the world outside Saudi.
“I like movies,” she said. “I like Twilight and Bella and true love. I really like also—”
“Thank you, Alanood!” I stopped her.
Movies and true love: double haram.
This was gonna be harder than I thought.
“Haya, what about you? What do you like about the United States?” I asked.
“I like Barack Obama,” Haya replied.
Technically, this fell under the realm of politics, but I couldn’t fault her for it. Obama was, after all, the leader of the free world, the most famous person on the planet, and if we didn’t enter the realms of political debate, we were fine.
“What do you like about him?” I asked.
“He is good man and love people Muslim,” she said. I relaxed a bit.
“Yes! He’s a good man who loves Muslim people. Remember the adjective goes before the noun.”
I looked around the room and saw Haifa on her phone. “Haifa, are we boring you?”
Haifa looked up and gave a half smile.
“Put the phone away. Your turn. What do you like about America, if anything?”
Haifa shrugged. “I don’t know, Teacher.”
“There must be something,” I coaxed.
Haifa considered this. “Oh yes, Teacher, I know!” she said. “I like Black men.”
I almost choked. Some of the girls giggled.
“Uh, right. Because … they’re- well they’re Black,” was what I actually said. Because I lost my words.
“I like Kardashians but most I like handsome, big, Black—”
“Thank you, Haifa!” Haram alayk! We’re done.
I dismissed class early, even though this was strictly against protocol. When all the students left, I closed the door and slid to the floor, silently pleading to the heavens for help.