To Love In The Arabic Culture.

Love, the spontaneous emotion we seek the most in a life filled of blood and sadness, for love may be the light in the dark, some of its essence are lost toward some utterly idiotic acts.

 “Love is like the wind, you can't see it but you can feel it.” Said Nicholas Sparks. We are associated with the emotions king named “Love” almost daily, it fluctuates in its presences, but its essence is continual transversely along of all its silhouettes. To love someone or something is to consent that entity to penetrate through the fortifications of your mind, the fortifications that allow you to outline the logical from the illogical, to love is to challenge your pride and ego to co-exist with a power that challenge them unswervingly. It flops the regular thinking of one’s mind, it has changed warriors to pacifist, and it has changed mere humans to war machines, as the storytellers go through Hitler’s motives for exterminating a good majority of the Jews, they found about his failed love toward a Jewish woman. Because love, though beautiful, is utterly terrifying. But is the definition of “Love” everlasting? Did it come with a set of rules, or is it a spontaneous emotion that has existed even before mortals?

I was raised in a culture that marked men with a romantic sense as “weak”, turning Romance entirely into a shameful act committed only by fragile men, and deeming the act putative if only carried out by a female, yet even then, men aren’t allowed to contribute, they should act “Cold”. Women on the other hand, are stripped of the joy of confessing love, if she did however, she shall and will be deemed a disgrace to the “family” and will render her in all aspects a “mistake”, and in some places, she will most likely have a dance with the grim ripper as soon as her father or brother be notified of her human nature, of her spontaneous emotion, of her humanely act, that is to love.

I’m not one to question rules set decades before my arrival, but I’m one to fight the ignorance of allowing such morels to escape their glory days, and set themselves kings in my days, men have the job of protecting “her” whoever the her may be, a daughter, a sister, a cousin. And I have no knowledge of protection by death, because after death, “her” will cease to exist, such acts only represent that the killer is only protecting himself, the killer cares for his reputation, cares for his prestigious name to be unharmed by mere words, but not even a slight of care toward the victim. Men according to the morels may love whomever they wish, between women shall be trained to fight the devilish thoughts, that’s to even think about love. and if so and they do, they must await whoever they loved to act the first move, because doing so herself, would make her “Easy” or “Common”. Women too should act taciturn. “Cold” Weak” Easy” “Common” such expressions have constructed themselves immortal against time, and are now embodied on the minds of many innocent youths, they have sadly bough into erroneous mores without questioning their illegibility.

Love is one of the aspects for your existence here in our earth, it’s an art that begs to be admired, I, as brother will never stripe my sister of such joy, because such thing will never act as “shame”, what’s outrageous, is that we as Arabs, are indeed home to Islam, portrayed as the most complete peaceful religion, we call upon the world to master humanity as good as we do, yet we, kill, neglect, and punish those of us who dare to feel the sweetest of emotions. We feel the urge to love for the sake of completion, as if we exist as mere puzzles and love is the messing piece, yet though imperfect, we were created complete by any means of creation you believe into, a deity or evolution, we require love to feel aliveness and not completeness.

Author's Note

All your criticisms and insights are highly treasured, I would love to hear your stories about love. Thank you for reading, and though this one has been long, i still feel its lacked due to how much i have left off.