The Wayward Orientalist vs. Media Tropes

As previously mentioned, I read the news for a living*. This means I end up identifying a lot of recurring tropes—conventional storytelling devices—in mainstream media, whose goal is to simplify the narrative(s) about the Middle East in a way that is easily digestible for a (presumedly) Western audience.

As you can guess, the vast majority of these tropes are ridiculous, insulting and just plain stupid. Here are a handful that I happen to find extremely grating.

The Middle East is one big blob.

On banning "Arab Spring" from your vocabulary

No one can tell how Arab, Spanish or American you are behind a Guy Fawkes mask.
Photo found on The Examiner.

I know what you're thinking, and yes, you're about to sit through another one of my rants. (It's still not too late to close the tab.)

One of the things that irk me when reading the news (and you must be aware by now that many things irk me) is this easy turn of phrase to summarize just about everything going on in the region for the past two years: the "Arab Spring." Here is my case for why you should stop using this term once and for all.

The Confused Wayward Orientalist

La mort de Sardanapale by Eugène Delacroix, or
Sensual Oppressed Ladiez and Violent Menz: the Middle East in a Nutshell, Y'all!

As many of you might know, my life calling is to scour the Internet for articles and cute animal pictures. And one of my favorite things to do—besides showing dog photos to my roommate to try and convince her that we should get a pet—is to become overly aggravated about offensive articles on a) women and b) the Middle East. Articles about idiotic Republican policies are a close third... and often tied to the two aforementioned topics.

For example, this perfect illustration of modern-day Orientalism is the sort of news that will send me down an inevitable spiral of angry ranting ("An Oriental adventure"? "The history and the culture of the region"? Monolithism much??? ARGH MY BLOOD PRESSURE).

But of course, not all articles on the region fall into the sort of oversimplifications barely worth the exertion of rolling one's eyes. Much of the news coming out of the Arab world deals with death, destruction and oppression, as if nothing positive and empowering ever came out of the Middle East. The early days of the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions* might have been a short truce, if only because the Western media thought this meant the whole Middle East was going to become more like "us."

I have written in the past about my fear that, by writing this blog, I would either contribute to the vast canon of negative clichés on Lebanon and the Middle East, or go too far in the other direction and gloss over the problematic aspects of Middle Eastern cultures. This has led to numerous occasions when my feminist and anti-colonialist/orientalist beliefs have felt at odds.

On Race and Racism: "Arabness" and the Lebanese identity

The thing about discussions on race and identity is that nothing is as straightforward as it might seem. While the world seems to have clear-cut notions of what being "black," "Asian" or "French" might mean or look like, in practice, it is a completely different story. As I quickly found out, this is also the case with the notion of "Arabness" in Lebanon.

From a complete outsider's perspective, the question of whether Lebanon is an Arab state seems like an easy one: its population speaks Arabic and the country is situated in a historically Arab region (current Zionist neighbor notwithstanding). What else could it be? So why is there such a debate on Lebanon's Arab identity?

This is a sarcastic article on articles on Beirut

From NOW Lebanon, "This is a cliché article about why 'Beirut is back'"

My favorite part:

This paragraph begins with one of the four “p” metaphors: pawn, playground, pearl or Paris. Beirut is like one of these. I could also use Switzerland as an analogy, but that is *so* overdone. And take note: I will repeatedly refer to Lebanon’s capital throughout this article as if it is representative of the country as a whole.

And also:

I will also peg a picture to the side of the article that shows a woman wearing a mini-skirt and high heels walking down the same street as a woman wearing a hijab, just in case I didn’t quite prove to you how “Western” Lebanon is.

You are allowed to beat me with a stick (or a plastic ruler, if you're a service driver) if I ever use any of the horrific platitudes exhibited in that article.

Al-Janub, Part II

From my last post, my trip to the South might sound like it was a sad meditation on life in a war zone—and undoubtedly it was partially that—but it was also an eye-opener on how unexpectedly normal (if such a word can be said about anything) my stay was there.

The Wayward Orientalist

So, from the beginning I have been thinking about a catchy title for this blog, something that could sum up what I want to convey here, and, lacking inspiration, I had settled temporarily for the most obvious way to describe what I was going through: In Beirut.

I have been struggling with what I should write here. How do I sum up my experience? There are many clichés and easy generalizations to make about Beirut or Lebanon, and while they might contain a kernel of truth (which stereotype doesn’t?), I can’t help but bristle with annoyance when I hear “They” statements:

D minus five days, or: let there be rambling

So here it goes, the quasi-mandatory abroad blog, where I will discuss my adventures in the Land of Cedars for as long as possible before I get bored of this writing venture and decide to move on to co-author yet another unfinished novel with LKat. Long-term writing goals have never really been my strong suit, but I keep going back to them as if I can somehow distract myself from the inevitable premature demise of one project by starting another.

Anyway... I'm on the road again, off to another location where I barely know anyone... although I think I've topped myself this time. I've never before made plans to stay this long in a country as unfamiliar... and it is a little scary. It took me a while to get used to New York (although a lot of factors that made that particular move difficult are thankfully no longer relevant...), so I definitely have some apprehension about starting from scratch again. But somehow, relocating across the world to Beirut is the most sense-full decision at this point in my life—and this despite the looks of genuine concern regarding my mental health which might indicate to the contrary.

I definitely have concerns; my Arabic is terrifyingly rusty, and I know practically nothing of the Lebanese dialect. My longest stay in the Middle East thus far has been an hour spent in the Qatar airport, and what I know of Lebanon (and the Arab world in general), I gathered from books, movies, second-hand accounts... which is to say, in a sense, that I know nothing.

But knowing nothing... is strangely freeing. I am looking forward to no longer being labeled a "Middle East expert" by people around me who think I am somehow qualified enough to make assessments about an entire region based on a couple of classes I've taken or articles I've read. I want to finally experience firsthand what day-to-day life is like in Lebanon—well, day-to-day life as I can observe it from my privileged and self-consciously orientalist point of view...

Hopefully, I'll have some interesting/not-so-stupid things to share with you all (Hopefully, I will also learn to use fewer ellipses). I've been waiting for this moment for a year, and it's so hard to realize that less than a week from now, this will no longer be projections, scenarios and hypotheses; this will be real.

So here's to my new beginning.