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

status quo. After all, our country is the home of
Islam; we Saudis are the “keepers of the faith.” To cover our shame
at our forced repressions, we spoke proudly to our Kuwaiti sisters
of our unique heritage: We Saudi women hold high the symbols of
Muslim belief the world over. Then, suddenly, middle-class Saudi
women threw down their shackles. They faced the fundamentalists
head-on and called out for the world to free them in the same
instant they freed the besieged Kuwaitis!
    Sara caused me to tremble when she rushed
into the palace screaming. My only thought was that of chemicals
invading the air my children were breathing! Had an enemy plane
filled with chemical bombs escaped the detection of the forces
guarding our land? I stood still, holding my breath, undecided as
to where to go or what to do. Any moment I would more than likely
be writhing on the floor, thinking my last thoughts. I cursed
myself! I should have followed Kareem’s wishes and taken our young
ones to London, far from the possibility of painful slow deaths for
those I had carried in my womb.
    Sara’s words finally penetrated my fear and
the news she told rung as a celebration in my ears. Asad had just
called her; Saudi, yes, Saudi women were actually driving
automobiles up and down the streets of Riyadh!
    I cried out with joy! Sara and I hugged and
danced. My youngest daughter began to sob in fear when she came
into the room and saw her mother and auntie rolling and screaming
on the floor. I soothed her fears when I grabbed her in my arms and
assured her our silly nonsense was a result of great happiness; my
prayers had been answered. The American presence was going to alter
our lives in a wonderful, wonderful way!
    Kareem burst through the door with a dark
look in his eyes. He wanted to know what the trouble was; he could
hear our cries in the garden.
    Did he not know? Women had broken the first
of the unyielding barriers—they were claiming their right to drive!
Kareem’s response sobered our reaction. I knew his opinion on the
matter; there is no mention of such in our religion, he would say.
He, like many other Saudi men, had always thought it absurd that
Saudi women were not allowed to drive.
    With a weary tone, my husband now voiced the
unthinkable. “This is exactly the type of action that we did not
want you women to take! We have been battling the fanatics for
every concession! Their biggest fear is that our decisions will
result in women moving toward more privileges. What is more
important to you, Sultana,” he cried out, “to have soldiers to
protect our lives from the Iraqi menace, or to choose this time to
drive?”
    I was furious with Kareem. Many times he had
protested against the silly custom that chains Saudi women to their
homes. And now, his fear of the men of religion brought his
cowardly soul to the surface. How I yearned to be wed to a warrior,
a man with the hot flame of righteousness to guide his life.
    In a temper, I hotly replied that we women
could not be “beggars with conditions.” What luxury to be able to
pick our time and place! We had to take what small opportunities
were presented. Now was our time too, and Kareem should stand by
our side. Surely, the throne would not be toppled over the mere
fact that women drove in our streets!
    My husband was angry at all women at that
moment and told me in a hard voice that this incident would delay
women’s causes for decades. He told us our joy would turn to sorrow
when we witnessed the punishment meted out to those so foolish. The
proper time will come for women to drive, he warned, but this was
not the moment for such drama. His words hung in the air as he made
his retreat. A man had spoken!
    Kareem had stolen our small moment of
pleasure. I hissed like a cat at his back and Sara’s lips trembled
as she held back her smile. She dismissed Kareem’s words with
contempt. She reminded me that the men in our family talked
sympathetically about women’s rights, but in reality they were
little different than the extremists. All men liked a heavy hand on
the heads of their women. Otherwise, we would have seen some
lifting of our heavy burdens. Our husbands and father were of the
Royal Family that ruled the land; if they could not help us, who
could?
    “The Americans!” I said with a smile. “The
Americans.”
    Kareem’s words proved to be true. The
forty-seven brave young women who demonstrated against the informal
ban on driving became the scapegoats of