Date: Wed, 26 Feb 2003 09:21:22 -0500
Subject: Fwd: Re: Eve Ensler's "Under the Burqa"


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>From: Jaspal Singh <jaspaljoth-AT-hotmail.com>
>To: postcolonial-AT-lists.village.virginia.edu
>Subject: Re: Eve Ensler's "Under the Burqa"
>Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 15:37:48 -0800
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>This following piece was perfomed as part of the Vagina Monologue at my 
>university; my daughter and I were present at this event.  We walked out 
>in protest.  The VOX--Voices Of Planned Parenthood--organized this event 
>as a fund raiser.  As we walked out, they followed us and asked us why we 
>were protesting and leaving.  We explained to the students why we found 
>the piece problematic and racist.  As the piece was being perfomed and the 
>lines starting with "imagine a huge dark, etc.,  . . . imagine . . . "  I 
>rose up with my black shawl over my head and headed out the door, saying, 
>this is not right, my daughter shouted, "Imagine White Feminist racism." 
>Now they still want a written explanation so the organizers could write to 
>the author and she can edit this material.  How do you think I should 
>address it so that the monologue can also continue while it turns into a 
>dialogue with us?  Thanks.
>
>
>
>Last year Eve Ensler had the opportunity to go to Afghanistan. There, she 
>witnessed firsthand what the outcome of misogyny would be if it were 
>allowed to manifest itself totally. Under the Taliban, women are 
>essentially living the lives of walking corpses. This monologue is for the 
>brave, tender, fierce women of Afghanistan. That we may all rise up to 
>save them.
>
>Under The Burqa
>imagine a huge dark piece of cloth
>hung over your entire body
>like you were a shameful statue
>imagine there's only a drop of light
>enough to know there is still daylight for others
>imagine it's hot, very hot
>imagine you are being encased in cloth,
>drowning in fabric, in darkness.
>imagine you are begging in this bedspread
>reaching out your hand inside the cloth
>which must remained covered, unpolished, unseen
>or they might smash it or cut it off
>imagine no one is putting rupees in your invisible hand
>because no one can see your face
>so you do not exist
>imagine you cannot find your children
>because they came for your husband
>the only man you ever loved
>even though it was an arranged marriage
>because they came and shot him
>you tried to defend him and they trampled you
>four men on your back
>in front of your screaming children
>imagine you went mad
>but you did not know you were mad
>because you hadn't seen the sun in years
>and you remembered your two daughters vaguely
>like a dream the way you remembered sky.
>
>imagine muttering as a way of talking
>because words did not form anymore in the darkness
>and you did not cry because it got too hot and wet in there.
>imagine bearded men that you could only decipher
>by their smell
>beating you
>because your socks were white
>imagine being flogged in the streets
>in front of people you could not see
>imagine no peripheral vision
>so like a wounded animal
>you could not defend yourself
>or even duck from the sideward blow! s
>
>imagine that laughter was banned
>throughout your country and music
>and the only sounds you heard
>were the muffled sounds of the azun*
>or the cries of other women flogged
>inside their cloth, inside their dark.
>
>imagine you had no place to live
>your only roof was the cloth
>as you wandered the streets
>and this tomb
>was getting smaller and smellier every day
>you were beginning to walk into things
>imagine suffocating
>while you were still breathing
>imagine you could no longer distinguish
>between living and dying
>so you stopped trying to kill yourself
>because it would be redundant
>
>imagine me inside the inside
>of the darkness in you
>i am caught there
>i am lost there
>inside the cloth
>which is your head
>inside the dark we share
>imagine you can see me
>
>i was beautiful once
>big dark eyes
>you would know me.
>
>
>(*"azun" is pronounced AH - ZOON)
>
>
>
>
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