Women-only beauty salons are an important part of Middle Eastern culture. Beyond the hairstyling, make-up application and nail care, there is a world of ideas, customs exchanges and assimilation into the overall popular culture of the region.
These old-school small shops scattered around uninteresting parts of the city may lack glamour, but they make up for this in content and experience.
My childhood included many trips with my mother to these salons, which to me carried a resemblance to the famous 17th-century literary salons of Paris, albeit in a far less sophisticated way. As then, a range of subjects, from the social and literary, all the way to the political, are discussed.
These trips are still an integral part of my experience as an adult. On most occasions, they are fun and educational. At other times, they reveal some intricate and harmful practices within our culture.
On a recent trip to my usual salon, a discussion ensued among the ladies gathered around the small coffee table. They were sharing news of a common acquaintance. In the midst of the discussion, one of the group erupted into criticism of this woman.
Shortly after the first woman spoke, a common three-letter Arabic word surfaced in the conversation. The use of this short yet powerful word is ingrained within the Middle Eastern oral culture. The word directly translates to “flaw”, and it carries a shaming effect to whomever it is directed at.
When a young child snatches an object from another child or an adult, the word is used on its own to signify to the child that he or she should stop what they are doing. If an adult questions or rejects the opinion of an older figure, the three-lettered word appears.
In almost any given situation, interaction or experience that occurs outside the boundaries of acceptable cultural practices, “flaw” is present to abruptly put an end to the behaviour.
There is a famous saying that goes: “Words can inspire and words can destroy. Choose yours well.” But how damaging is one small word that is a habitual part of our vocabulary? Words are as inspiring and as destructive as the emotion they arouse in their recipient.
The renowned psychiatrist Peter Breggin argues that shame and guilt are the worst and most disheartening emotions that brew inside us. When they are triggered, they render us feeling worthless, inferior and flawed. When they take hold within us, they show up in the form of anxiety, anger and emotional numbness. At their extreme, these manifestations can be destructive.
But the use of such words that are part of our everyday vocabulary is merely the tip of the iceberg. In a culture so deeply rooted in conforming to familial, societal and religious norms, the problem is multiplied.
With so many norms to keep up with and abide by, the probability of missing the mark is high. Our many “flaws” are then pointed out and criticised through the use of small, quick yet emotionally destructive words. Shame and guilt are intensified.
Today, the average young Arab person is surrounded by interactions and experiences that intensify these emotionally negative feelings. At home, we are still challenged by generations of parents who pay little attention to the emotional health of their children and the way they are affected by subtle and ingrained practices.
At school, the traditional push by educators to conform and comply can help give rise to feelings of guilt and shame.
We need to relinquish a thought system based on fear for one that is based on constructive emotions.
As we look towards lifting our region to a better future, we are confronted with tackling an assortment of political and economic challenges. Our specific cultural challenges are of equal, if not superior, importance. Can we start this latter battle by rooting out shame and guilt from our culture in all their manifestations?
Rana Askoul is a writer in Dubai focusing on women and Middle East issues
On Twitter: @Ranaaskoul
