My Parade
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the best show on Earth! An amazing spectacle! Step right up! An evening of cheek strained laughter and involuntary tinkling awaits you and your confidants. You are invited to marvel on this unique occasion. Cheer for the day of freedom, cheer for the glory, cheer for the day that is Heba’s one night out!
I was on lock down. “Welcome to The Rock!” I would holler when friends would visit me at home. In high school it was rare that I was ever allowed out past 10pm. My parents were over protective and weren’t accustomed to the idea of “going out” and saw that nighttime activities were risky…for girls. Risks like the virginity thief perhaps? The drug pusher? The pedophile? Ah yes, it was a veritable variety of villains just waiting vengefully to make me their victim.
My brother, however, was afforded every privilege of a teenager for no other reason than a certain extra appendage that he possessed. Leaving him able to explore and experiment into the darkness of the night, all while my feeble female disposition kept me at home watching Egyptian satellite television with my parents on friday nights. Double standards were a virtue to my family, but held me, constricted. These double standards are hardwired into both the religion and the culture and unfortunately many women acquiesce and see this inequality as fate.
There was only one way off The Rock and that was a slumber party for someone’s birthday. And as fate would have it, someone had a birthday party each month. Some friends even had bi-annual birthday soirees (wink, wink). It was my one free pass, my one day a month to experience the normalcy of American teenage-hood. For me it was the equivalent of getting out of solitary confinement for good behavior and these days were truly special. Neighborhood parents would extend curfews for my big day and some would even host parties. My friends and I would howl in amusement while indulging in mischievous antics like tee-peeing the hoopty car of our economics teacher. My tribe would gather around me and chant to my latest Michael Jackson moves. Lifetime friendships were forged while skipping down the street arm in arm with my best friend after we'd just gotten our belly buttons pierced. I was ever cognizant of the warm tears of joy as the tight squeeze of my eyes wrung out every last drop.
When I rode my bike home from school on my big day the world appeared to reveal its wonderous magic to me. Clouds appeared like wisps of white streamers against the powdery blue sky while the birds would duck and dive like trapeze artists in gleeful anticipation. The scent of vibrant flowers permeated my nostrils inviting me to fill my lungs with possibility. I paddled harder and faster hoping that the sun would feel my haste and dip below the horizon so that my parade would commence and for that one night I could feel free.
What are your thoughts on double standards? What has been your experience?