Read Online Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia by Jean Sasson - Free Book Online Page A

their backs to
such a disagreeable situation. Father stood, staring, analyzing
Mother’s resolve. Askance at her apparent resoluteness, and wanting
to avoid public interference in a family matter, for once in their
married life, he gave in. Since we were of the Royal Family and he
did not wish to sever his ties with my father, the husband
reluctantly agreed to divorce Sara.
    Islam gives the right of divorce to men,
without any question of motive. Yet it is very difficult for a
woman to divorce her husband. Had Sara been forced to file for the
separation, many difficulties would have arisen, for the religious
authorities might have ruled, “You might dislike a thing for which
Allah has meant for your own good”, and forced Sara to remain with
her husband. But Sara’s husband relented and uttered the words “I
divorce you” three times in the presence of two male witnesses. The
divorce was final in a matter of moments.
    Sara was free! She returned to our home.
Every upheaval is a transition. My young world was transformed by
Sara’s wedding, attempted suicide, and divorce. Fresh thoughts and
ideas began to grow in my mind; I was never to think as a child
again.
    For hours I pondered the primitive traditions
surrounding marriage in my land. Numerous factors determine the
marriageability of a girl in Saudi Arabia: her family name, her
family fortune, her lack of deformities, and her beauty. Social
dating is taboo, so a man must depend on his eagle-eyed mother and
sisters to constantly seek out proper matches for him. Even after
the promise to marry is made and the date is set, rarely does a
girl meet her future husband prior to the wedding, though there are
times when individual families allow the exchange of pictures.
    If a girl is of a good family and without
deformity, she will enjoy a number of marriage proposals. If she is
a beauty, many men will send their mothers or fathers to beg for
marriage, for beauty is a great commodity for women in Saudi
Arabia. Of course, no scandal can mar the reputation of the beauty,
or her desirability will fade; such a girl will find herself
married as the third or fourth wife to an old man in a faraway
village.
    Many Saudi men leave the final decision of
the marriage of their daughters to their wives, knowing they will
make the best match possible for the family. Still, often the
mother too will insist upon an unwanted marriage, even as her
daughter protests. After all, she herself had married a man she
feared, and her life had progressed without the anticipated horror
or pain. Love and affection do not last, the mother will caution
her daughter; it is best to marry into a family that they know. And
then there are men, such as my father, who base their decision of
their daughters’ marriages upon possible personal or economic gain
through the union, and there is no higher authority to question the
verdict. Sara, for all her beauty, intelligence, and childhood
dreams, in the end was no more than a pawn in my father’s schemes
for wealth.
    This intimate view of my beloved sister’s
predicament filled me with a new resolve: It was my thought that we
women should have a voice in the final decision on issues that
would alter our lives forever. From this time, I began to live,
breathe, and plot for the rights of women in my country so that we
could live with the dignity and personal fulfillment that are the
birthright of men.
     

Chapter Five: Ali
    A few months after Sara’s return, my oldest
sister, Nura, convinced Father that Sara and I needed to see the
world outside Saudi Arabia. None of us had been able to rouse Sara
from her chronic depression, and Nura thought a trip would be just
the right medicine. As to the extent of my travels, I had visited
Spain twice, but I had been so young, my recollections did not
count.
    Nura, married to one of our first king’s
grandsons, pleased Father with her marriage and her calm, placid
outlook on life. She did as she was told, no questions