Memory, Trauma, and Citizenship: Arab Iraqi Women
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MEMORY, TRAUMA, AND CITIZENSHIP: ARAB IRAQI WOMEN by Sajedeh Zahraei A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Graduate Department of Social Work University of Toronto © Copyright by Sajedeh Zahraei 2014 Memory, Trauma, and Citizenship: Arab Iraqi Women Sajedeh Zahraei Doctor of Philosophy Factor-Inwentash Faculty of Social Work University of Toronto 2014 Abstract This dissertation examines Arab Iraqi refugee women’s experiences of the “war on terror” from a gendered historical perspective within the contemporary structural violence of state policies and practices in the Canadian context. Drawing on critical anti-racist and anti- colonial feminist theoretical frameworks, I argue that Iraqi refugee women experience the “war on terror” as both a historical and contemporary phenomenon. Historical ideological constructions of Arab Muslim women as terrorists, unsuitable for integration into Canadian society, facilitate their current social exclusion and eviction from civil society. Examining the trauma of the “war on terror” and Iraqi women’s everyday experiences in this light shifts the focus away from disease focused psychiatric conceptualizations of trauma while centering the participants’ experiences and varied responses to their circumstances in the Canadian context. Using a historically-based multi-level trauma framework of the “war on terror” enables us to move away from artificial binaries of “us” and “them” and facilitate a better understanding of the structural dynamics of our interconnected world in order to foster alliances across transnational borders and boundaries aimed at developing multi-level transformative interventions. ii Dedication This work is dedicated to the memory of my beloved mother, Saleemeh Salman Mohammed Al- Imrani (1926-2008), who continues to be a source of love and inspiration long after she is gone. It still pains me deeply when I think of how colonial wars, border controls and state patriarchal violence forced her to live her life in exile and prevented us from accompanying her body to be buried in her sacred homeland as was her wish. November 14, 2013 marked the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death. I was unable to attend her funeral and have never been able to visit her grave. She was simply sent off alone across the Iran-Iraq border to be buried in war-ravaged Karbala and we were left dealing with the pain. Sharing my mother’s story of pain and suffering brought about by state violence, war, and colonial patriarchal institutions is my way of memorializing her. On the fifth anniversary of her death, I refuse to let her be forgotten or to let her be another nameless, faceless statistic, yet another Iraqi woman who was victimized by war and violence. I want to remember her beyond her pain and suffering. I want to remember her as the beautiful, kind, compassionate and strong generous person that she was. I also want to imagine all the possibilities that she could have had, but never did. Rather than sensationalizing her pain and suffering, I speak out about it in order to expose the state structural violence that altered the course of her life. My mother’s story of pain and suffering is not unique, colonial imperialist patriarchal violence has devastated countless women’s lives around the world. By sharing the particularities of my mother’s life story, I want to show how these structural forces play out in the everyday individual women’s lives. By doing so, I hope to create an alternative vision of a world where women and girls can live out their lives free of patriarchal oppression and all forms of violence. Whether they be living in Iraq, Iran, Canada or anywhere else in the world, our current depressing reality is that violence against women is a universal phenomenon that is yet to be eradicated. My brother Amir originally wrote the following poem in Arabic as a tribute to my mother shortly following her death in 2008. With Amir’s help, I translated the poem into English in 2009 when I began my journey to tell Iraqi women’s experiences of the “war on terror”, beginning with my mother’s story and discovering my own history in the process. I present this tribute here as an attempt to resist erasures, and keep my mother’s memory alive in the transnational network of iii our hearts and minds, while celebrating her strength, faith, resilience, and compassion for humanity. My Tale On a pitch dark chilly night I was born Whence I collided with A pale coloured, Obscure, speechless ghost What is your name? I asked, with an innocent smile. Echo from his silence rebounded: Alif, Lam, and Meem It is said to be. As for me, I wish I could be Alif, Meem and Lam. That’s how my spiritual twin I met Neither compliments nor arguments exchanged. Who am I? I do not know No one told me My date of birth, my name, and the end My father, a fearless man From the family of toil Iron willed, knew no despair A proud soul iv Never bowed his head He gave me roots The badge of honour and poverty He taught me about The grandeur of the palm tree Love of the land, Humanity, The plough, And dates Engulfed in his love, Caresses and affection I was filled with joy And security wherever he went I ran, playfully, in the meadow Unlike other children For no reason, nor toys My brief childhood I wrapped On the banks of forgetfulness Slender I grew as a cane Resilient and strong My curly hair Untamed braids flying in the air The radiance of two hazel eyes And beautifully trimmed Like a branch of pine With the scent of Jasmine and Basil Hardship glazed me Solid as granite rock Then planted me an Oak For loved ones my shade to share v Confident, determined, strict, honest With fine demeanor A lion heart of a man I wedded He battled poverty as an orphan And rose to great heights Flew like an eagle and Ascended the summit The self-made man Then came the foes With turbans riding insanity Forcing names to flee into exiles Incarcerations and battle fields No fault of mine it was Yet, I had to depart Hence, from one estrangement to another I went Affection and longing my only sustenance Treaded barefoot On a thorny rough terrain What a time it was? What a time it was? Falsehood, hypocrisy, and degradation Mean coward beings Goaded by insatiable greed Warring pseudo men Racing for corruption Voluntarily stoop under the boot Vain souls hanging by a thread of smoke vi What a time it was? What a time it was? I despise living in this torment I despise living in the wolves’ den Kathem Algheyth (conjurer of rage) vanished In the campaign of beheadings And on the guillotine of ignorance They all witnessed slaying of the book Freedom fighters were executed en mass Indeed, here lies the debris of a homeland A waterless desert Only sand dunes and mirage I have no choice I have no choice But to shed tears on this soil Take my love My vineyard My almonds And my figs Donate all things around me For these never mattered to me As for me My mended old garment suffices A loaf of bread suffices A breath of fresh air suffices The morning prayer in the niche suffices Song of the dove Dome of the shrine And a soul filled with longing The embrace of God suffices vii Don’t cry for me Don’t cry for me Do you know the meaning of love? Or that of resistance? The taste of suffering since infancy And the myth of existence? The taste of salt in a mother’s tears Fighting the brutality of the soldiers The blood kneaded with stubborn hunger And debris, barricades, and shackles Don’t cry for me Don’t cry for me In our land They propagated destruction, corruption, and a fragile peace So, what in it is left for us? Except for lashes and graves? Why, then, shouldn’t we leave? And to the soil not return? Don’t cry for me Don’t cry for me If the horizon tapers And my veins collapse Don’t cry for me If my vision blurs Or to mud I return Don’t cry for me Don’t get teary eyed Frigidity of the earth Cry of the crow viii Throbbing of the heart Essence of the soul Death of a spike Scattering of wheat grains Showers of rain A journey to eternity A journey to eternity A journey to eternity Amir Zahraei, November 2008, Toronto ix Acknowledgments As the old saying goes, it takes a village to raise a child. I would add it takes a community to complete a PhD. I have been extremely blessed with the presence of a strong community of support who saw me through this long, at many times painful and incredibly rewarding journey. This research would not have been possible without their participation and support of the Arab Iraqi refugee women, service providers and community members who took part in the study and provided their valuable insights and perspectives. I would like to sincerely thank my amazing thesis committee members who generously gave their time, shared their knowledge and expertise, and supported me on many levels throughout the years of my doctoral education. In particular I would like to thank my thesis supervisor, Charmaine Williams, whose practical guidance and calm supportive presence kept me level headed and helped me stay on task through every stage of the dissertation; Rupaleem Bhuyan, for imparting her extensive knowledge of interpretive research methodologies, her generosity with her time and her wisdom, humanity, and respectful compassion and for standing by me offering her endless support in times of crisis in the course of conducting my research; Shahrzad Mojab, for sharing her vast store of knowledge of women, war, and revolution in the Middle East, her sharp critical analysis, her revolutionary spirit, tireless activism, and her love of life and travel; Izumi Sakamoto, for her inspiring community activism and scholarship, her ongoing encouragement and support in helping me establish a thesis group, and creating opportunities for me to present and discuss my work with students and colleagues.