Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia

thought of
asking Father about the teachings of the Koran—the instructions
from God that each Muslim was supposed to divide his days and
evenings among four wives. Since the day he had wed Randa, his
three older wives had been virtually ignored. After consideration,
I thought better of my boldness. And so the evenings were a repeat
of the lunch break. Randa would call for her dinner around eight
o’clock, eat, and go to her rooms for her bath and preparation for
her husband. I generally would not see her again until after my
father left for work the next morning. She had orders to wait in
the bedroom until he had left.
    The anxiety of watching Randa’s bleak life
unfold spurred me on to mischief. I had two girlfriends who
frightened even me with their boldness; their liveliness might
encourage Randa to become more assertive. Little did I know what
forces I would unleash by forming a girl’s club, with Randa, my two
indomitable friends, and myself as the sole members.
    We called our club “Lively Lips,” for we had
as our goal to talk ourselves into bravery to battle the silent
acceptance of the role of women in our society. We solemnly vowed
to uphold the following goals:
    --
    1. At every opportunity, let the spirit of
women’s rights move our lips and guide our tongues.
    2. Each member should strive to bring in one
new member per month.
    3. Our first goal would be to stop marriages
of young women to old men.
    --
    We young women of Arabia recognized that the
men of our land would never pursue social change for our sex, that
we would have to force change. As long as Saudi women accepted
their authority, men would rule. We surmised that it was the
responsibility of each individual woman to ferment desire for
control of her life and other female lives within her small circle.
Our women are so beaten down by centuries of mistreatment that our
movement had to begin with an awakening of the spirit. My two
friends, Nadia and Wafa, were not of the Royal Family, but were
children of prominent families in the city of Riyadh.
    Nadia’s father owned a huge contracting
company. Because of his willingness to give large kickbacks to
various princes, his company was awarded large government building
contracts. He employed thousands of foreign workers from Sri Lanka,
the Philippines, and Yemen. Nadia’s father was almost as wealthy as
the royals; he easily supported three wives and fourteen children.
Nadia was seventeen, the middle of seven daughters. She had watched
with dismay as her three older sisters were married off for the
purposes of family connections and convenience. Surprisingly, all
three marriages had suited her sisters and they were happy, with
good husbands. Nadia said that kind of luck would never continue.
She felt with increasing pessimism that she would end up with an
old, ugly, and cruel husband.
    Nadia was indeed more fortunate than most
Saudi women; her father had determined that she could continue her
education. He had told her she did not have to marry until she was
twenty-one. This imposed deadline stirred Nadia into action. She
declared that since she had only four more years of freedom left,
she was going to taste every aspect of life during that time to
provide dreams for the remainder of a dull life married to an old
man. Wafa’s father was a leading mutawa and his extremism had
driven his daughter to extremes of her own. Her father had only one
wife, Wafa’s mother, but he was a cruel and vicious man. Wafa swore
she wanted nothing to do with a religion that appointed such men as
her father as a leader. Wafa believed in God and thought Mohammed
had been his messenger, but she thought that somehow Mohammed’s
messages had been conveyed incorrectly by his followers, for no God
would wish such grief on women, half of the world’s people.
    Wafa needed to look no farther than her own
home. Her mother was never allowed out of the house; she was a
virtual prisoner, enslaved by a man of God. There were six
children, five of whom were adult sons. Wafa had been a late
surprise to her parents, and her father was so disappointed that he
had a girl-child, he had virtually ignored her except to give her
orders. She was ordered to stay in the home and learn to sew and
cook. From the age of seven, Wafa was forced to wear an abaaya and
to cover her hair. Each morning from the time she was nine, her
father would ask her if she had seen her first blood. He was
alarmed that his daughter would venture out, face