I said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m very grateful to live in the U.S. When I see the atrocities that people suffer around the world due to vicious and vile governments, I think, “But for the Grace of God go I.” If I had been born in some of the African countries or some of the nations ruled by extremist Muslim wack-jobs—with my same personality—I’d be in deep doo-doo by now. Like the deepest darkest prison cell. Or dead. Because as I would shoot off my mouth, they would shoot off their guns.
A news story that has captivated me is the saga of 34-year-old Lubna Ahmed Al Hussein, a Sudanese journalist who was charged with the crime of “indecent dress.” Was she caught wearing a micro-mini? A bikini? No underpants? No—just pants. Ai Yi Yi.
The punishment in Sudan: A $200 fine and 40 lashings.
First of all, doesn’t this kind of insanity put a dent in the Sudanese tourist industry? Does the government issue burqas at the border?
Second of all—lashings? How barbaric is that? I know unemployment is rampant, but who wants that job? What kind of person applies for it?
Interviewer: Do you know what a lasher does?
Interviewee: Inflicts great bodily harm on another human being for any or no reason at all.
Interviewer: What would make a good lasher?
Interviewee: The more painful screaming the better.
Interviewer: What are your qualifications to be a lasher?
Interviewee: Plenty of experience. I beat the crap out of my family on a regular basis. Especially my wife.
Interviewer: Perfect! You’re hired. And make sure you leave permanent scars.
Ms. Hussein has taken her case public (sent out invitations to her trial) in an attempt to change the law and bring worldwide attention to the treatment of women in her country. She said, “I am Muslim; I understand Muslim law. But I ask: what passage in the Koran says women can’t wear pants? This is not nice.”
Amnesty International has stepped in and called for an end to flogging laws as well as the exoneration of Ms. Hussein.
Yesterday the Sudanese court convicted Ms. Hussein of her crime. Her sentence: Pay the $200 fine; forget about the 40 lashes. But Ms. Hussein will not compromise because as she has stated, it ain’t about the pants. It’s about the principle. She refuses to pay the $200. She said she would rather sit in jail.
What will happen to Ms. Hussein? Will the Sudanese government back down and erase the fine? Will the no-pants law be changed?
I don’t know the answers. But I do know one thing. Ms. Hussein, you are incredible! You have heart and brains, not to mention guts and balls. You are a role model extraordinaire. And a FuchsiaWoman in spirit.
When you get this mess cleared up, you also need to get a public relations manger, come to the United States, get booked on the Oprah Show, and start fundraising. The Secretary of State in our country loves pants and she’s loaded. We also have: a famous singer named Barbra who wore pants to the Academy Awards Show (she’s rich); a domestic goddess named Martha who wore them to a White House dinner (she’s even rich); and our own First Lady wore an abbreviated version of pants called “shorts” to the Grand Canyon on a hot summer day (not that rich but really smart). American women adore their pants!
After your successful fundraising efforts, head back to Sudan and start waving around big wads of cash in front of the politicians. All politicians can be bought. That’s not a phenomena restricted only to the U.S. It’s called government by special interests. If you’re not too picky about how the no-pants law gets changed, I say try the bribe method. It may be easier than trying to change a thousand years of the male psyche in your neck of the woods.
If you’re ever in my neck of the woods, c’mon over. I have a closet full of pants you can have. I’ll also take you over to the mall where there are even more ladies’ pants. All sizes, styles, colors, prices. I say the more pants the merrier. And thank God America is big on diversity.
Lubna, I loved the quote about your mother being on your side and praying for you. Good luck with your mission. I’ll be thinkin’ boutcha.
