Issue 4

Never Enough

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Never Enough
By Eden Haddad – Senior Editor

I had never understood what it meant to be content.

I was always either elated or angered beyond belief, hateful or depressed.

I lived in extremes.

It was only during that brief moment driving through the streets of Chiyah with my Mom and her friend, that I might have glimpsed it, grazed it, in all its own ferocity.

The sun was shining high in the clouds—a rare respite from the clouds veiling our skies and raining down light drops of water whenever I’d happen to find myself without an umbrella.

I was going home for the weekend and had taken the bus to meet my mother at her workplace so that we could leave together. It was a long week at uni, midterms conspired against the students by positioning themselves on the same day and I had exhausted myself beyond belief—night after night pouring over my notes until the words turned into a jumbled mosaic.

I had been excited to go home, despite the latest news regarding the electricity generators.

My apartment had gone from 7 hours a day with no power to 13. The government gave us one hour of power every 2 weeks which caused the laundry to pile up and the internet to run out. It’s been so long since I sat in my room with the comfort of familiarity.

 

When I got down from the bus, I saw my Mom waiting on the corner of the street in front of her car. We exchanged pleasantries and a quick hug that sent my skin crawling before I went to open the passenger door.

“Wait, Fatima is coming with us, we’re driving her home so sit in the back. Eib for her not to sit in front.”

Eib—shame—formed the foundation of every Arab family’s interactions both within and outside of its unit.

I didn’t mind obviously, I much preferred sitting in the backseat. The roads of Lebanon are rife with both cars and motorcycles driving through the streets and sidewalks in every manner they imagined, even and especially if it was the wrong side of the road.

Sitting upfront only made me more aware of it as I saw vehicles whizzing about, setting my heart on the edge of a cliff as I waited for the inevitable crash to occur.

Plus, I liked Fatima. She was a kind woman who, when she found out my favourite foods, made a point to cook them and send them for me, and when she found out I liked spice, she made and sent me a mixture unique to her village. Every word flowing out of her lips was entrenched in warmth and a hard edge she fully capitalised on in the workplace whenever her authority was challenged.

As I set my bag aside and relaxed in the back, Fatima walked out of the building and toward my Mom.

She had matched her hijab to the flowing blue dress she wore and walked with vigour and excitement. My Mom gestured for her to sit in front and when she saw me in the back, immediately shook her head and insisted I take the passenger seat. It was the usual dance that resolved itself shortly after a few headshakes and insistent nods. As both she and my mother got in the car, Fatima turned around and smiled at me so brightly you wouldn’t think she’d spent the last 9 hours sitting in a cramped office with no lights and coworkers each more corrupt than the next.

“Kifik, habibti? Everything good with you and uni?” She asked, as my mother turned on the ignition and pulled onto the road.

“Hamdella, kifik ente? Thank you so much for the mjaddara last week it was so good, you really shouldn’t have.”

“What are you saying, don’t mention it, it was nothing walaw.” She chided, the corner of her eyes crinkling with her widened smile.

“Fatoum, you’re gonna need to guide me, I only vaguely remember where your house is.” My Mom said.

As Fatima twisted back to sit properly, she and Mom conversed about the current ongoings of the country.

No power, no medication, no government, no gas, no water…

I had heard each and every adult repeat this exact montage growing up, and when I joined university I found myself parroting it as well. I couldn’t not to, otherwise it felt as though I was implicit with the corrupt, helping them hide their dirty work as though over 6 million people were not suffering from it.

I had always been a tired child, but now as I stand aware of the world around me, exhaustion has seeped into my bones and made me a husk for it. I could no longer stand most things, the only actions I was capable of taking was staying in bed and staring at the wall, a prisoner to my own thoughts.

My Mom’s laughter broke my reverie. I didn’t recognize it at first, having so rarely heard it.

She and Fatima had moved on to talking about some idiot they work with who got to his position by virtue of his connections alone. I don’t know what Fatima said exactly, but it sent my mother roaring, shaking with mirth and smiling as equally wide as her friend was previously.

We had never been particularly close, my mother and I. Too many mistakes made, too much history had widened the chasm between us until all I could do when I saw her was brace myself and count the minutes until I left.

It was always a quietly antagonistic relationship. As a child, I longed for the mother the TV screens would show, and when my mother failed to live up to it, I developed a grudge against her. She failed me in a time when I only had her to count on.

Similarly, I was never the daughter she wished for. I was always angry and judgmental, I was mean and never cared much about anything and only ever wanted to either be at home or be with my friends. We could never agree on anything, we barely talked besides the occasional text on my part telling her I’m going home for the weekend.

I hated her in the way you can only ever hate someone you love.

 

But, as we passed through the rundown buildings in Chiyah, memories of the blast still vivid like an infected scab in the structures that received little to no help after it occurred, and driving through a desolate country that abandoned its citizens and in turn, was abandoned, my mother laughed with her friend, like she might have laughed before the war, the deaths and mutilations that plastered each inch of the city. Before the fear and the feeble escapes each bomb shelling, before the loss of all her money and her family and her reality. Before time began to move slowly and ghosts and regret became your shadow.

If only I’d known her back then…would she like me as I am now?

 

“Take your right, I’m the building with the-”

“Dekken in the corner, I remember now.” My Mom finished the sentence. She looked at me through the rearview mirror and told me how when Fatima first moved to the place 20 years ago, they had celebrated the move in her apartment with an abundance of food and sweets.

The image just further added strokes to the picture of the stranger in my head. I couldn’t imagine my mother celebrating something or even being outside of the house past 6pm.

Even eating was something difficult if she was alone and someone wasn’t partaking with her.

Loneliness lived in her bones as exhaustion thrived in mine.

She parked haphazardly given the numerous cars already piled up randomly and moved to say goodbye to Fatima.

“Come up for some coffee, at least,” She said to my Mom and I. “Please, you have to, eib.”

“Another time, Fatouma.” My mother declined with a smile on her face.

There would be no other time.

After a few more dances back and forth, Fatima waved goodbye to me and went up the stairs of her building’s stairs.

Years passed by in seconds as the stranger before me disappeared and deflated back into my mother.

We drove home in silence I could not breach—not with the ghost of their laughter in the back of my mind.

 

 

“Oh, come on, That’s insane! In what world would that work?!” My friend exclaimed loudly, hands flailing as the scene continued playing on TV in all its implausibility.

“It’s the power of friendship! The power of love is at play!” I shrieked a few seconds later.

My friend slouched on the couch, eyes wide in disbelief as the credits began rolling.

“All that build up for nothing,” she sighed, “they ruined the whole show in 5 minutes.”

I patted her shoulder comfortingly, at loss for a proper reaction.

Her head lolled to the side, eyes meeting mine.

“Well, that was a waste of emotional investment. I’m gonna head home before it gets dark, we need to pick a new tv show to watch.” She announced, bouncing back to herself immediately and hopped to the front door where her shoes sat.

“Let me know when you get home, dakhilik.” I said as her hands fumbled with the laces, inciting a grin out of me.

“Eh, eh, of course, AND BRUSH YOUR TEETH BEFORE YOU LEAVE YOUR DORM YOU STINK OF GARLIC.” Her finger accusing me in the air. How dare she act as though she didn’t stress eat toum herself during the finale.

“Yeah, yeah lek meen aam yehke, you fucking idiot.” I leaned forward and huffed out a breath next to her nose.

“NOOOO!!” She aimed to defend herself but lost balance and fell back.

I laughed harder than I did during her commentary on the finale. She looked like an angry badger.

“Evil, traitor, ayri fike.”

“Bye, bye.” I sung as the door opened, her glare and middle finger centerspace before her smile matched my own and she disappeared behind the door closing.

I slowly exhaled before turning to see my room, a mess of rumbled sheets and empty food cartons littered the floor.

A ringing slowly came in, a familiar sound that only deigned to appear when I had no one and nothing to distract me.

My limbs turned sluggish as it took all I had to simply make it to my bed, collapsing on the mattress.

 

I’m not sure how much time passed but my phone lit up with a notification. My friend texted me that she was home. I had forgotten I told her to do that.

It seemed like forever ago that she was here. I was so tired and everything seemed so remote from where I lay now.

Right below her text, another one caught my eye. Between the ever growing chats piling up—

A text from my Mom:

Hope ur gd…take care of urself

The Marginalization of Infertile Women and Trans-Women

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The Marginalization of Infertile Women and Trans-Women
By Razan Matar – Staff Writer

As a woman, from a very early age, it is customary to hear the phrase “when you become a mother”. It’s never “if you become a mother.” It’s ingrained in our being that women are meant to reproduce at some point in their lives. In the MENA region, the idea that women will eventually be mothers is a construct that has been adopted into the gender for centuries. Motherhood is considered a rite of passage, an unavoidable direction within our womanhood. As Arendell mentions in his essay, womanhood, and motherhood are treated as “synonymous” identities and experiences (Arendell, 2000). Hence, being a mother in another form that isn’t within the “biological” idea of a woman is rendered as not “real” or invalid. Motherhood is constructed under a binary definition. This binary definition suggests that only people able to partake in heteronormative biological processes of conceiving and giving birth can be considered mothers. This biological process is what essentially dictates whether a woman is worthy of becoming a “real” mother. If you are unable to fulfill this biological process and become a mother through an alternative method, societies label you as unworthy of being a mother.

“There is a special bond between a child and their biological mother.” That’s a sentence you hear repeatedly whenever someone has been adopted or doesn’t have a biological parent. However, there is a much broader conversation to have here. Why are women who don’t fit the checklist of being biological mothers always labeled and deemed as “less than” mothers who can have children biologically? Why is there a specific connotation to the word motherhood?

Definitions and practices of motherhood are seen as dynamic social interactions and relationships that have been organized by a “gendered belief system” (Arendell, 2000). Hence, women who are unable to play their part in this gendered system, whether it be through infertility or other circumstances are considered unworthy of their gender as women, and their role as mothers. As our society evolves, so should the meaning of motherhood. Despite some progress, our comprehension of what it means to be a mother is still outdated. As Arendall explains, the act of mothering is linked with women, because universally, it’s women who do such an act (Arendell, 2000). Furthermore, motherhood is connected with notions of femininity and a specific gender identity which reinforces mothering (Arendell, 2000).

The term ‘motherhood’ is used unconsciously, with little regard for what it genuinely means to brace that title. In an article by Miriam and Ann about viewing motherhood through the lens of infertility, the authors note that the word ‘Infertility’ itself is not a neutral term (Ulrich & Weatherall, 2000). It doesn’t project any negative or positive connotations. However, when used in reference to women, infertility is considered a deficit. The reason for this is due to the induced belief that motherhood is only truly valid when it’s based on biology. This belief rests on the idea that being a mother is hindered by a “blood tie” or lineage, rather than by a bond that is developed and enriched through nurture and care (Miall, 1987).

This fixed view of motherhood not only limits women’s roles as mothers but also restricts and damages a child’s understanding of their mothers. Since society continuously deems infertile women as not “real” mothers, it conjures a harmful and unnecessary hierarchy, with mothers who conceive children as being more legitimate than those who do not or resort to other means. Therefore, the essence of motherhood should lie not in biological notions but should focus on characteristics of nurture, resilience, and care. These qualities are what is truly essential to motherhood, regardless of how it is achieved. Mothers who have children biologically may fail to cater to a child’s growth because of neglect. Motherlike characteristics are not present only when a biological component is included.

In an article that tackles the topic of adoption, it is stated that parental experiences, whether someone is a parent through adoption or not, rely on the same method of parenting (Miall, 1987). Marginalization within motherhood doesn’t come from a lack of knowledge about motherhood itself, but from the judgemental attitudes that society endorses towards non-traditional forms of motherhood.

Infertile women are constantly put in a position in which their inability to conceive is recognized as a personal failure. It’s innate within womanhood that their rite of passage is to partake in motherhood. The pressure to bear a child is amplified for infertile women, who go through extensive processes in an attempt to conceive a child. However, even when these women do become mothers, they are usually isolated and excluded from traditional experiences of motherhood because they opt for adoption.

This stigma surrounding motherhood is not limited to infertile women who adopt children. Even mothers who can conceive but choose to adopt are labeled and criticized as not fulfilling the role of a “real” mother.  For example, a society rejecting other forms of motherhood is seen in the Netflix series Grace and Frankie. In the show, Frankie’s adoption of her two children is belittled by Grace. Grace suggests that Frankie doesn’t fully understand the struggles and experiences of motherhood, because of her infertility. This doesn’t only undermine Frankie’s role as a mother, but also her role as a woman. Yet, time and time again throughout the show, Frankie’s characteristics of being more fanatic and warm-hearted of the character of the duo encourage Grace’s children to have more unfiltered conversations with Frankie.

The idea of motherhood being only certifiable through biology is not an individual construct, it is a reflection of societal attitudes toward family and reproduction. Cultural narratives, medical discourse, and social norms all aid in this narrow view of motherhood. Furthermore, infertile women are constantly pitied for their circumstances, while trans women are often mocked and denied being recognized into motherhood altogether.

This shallow perception of infertile women somewhat mirrors trans women’s experiences. Except, infertile women do not necessarily challenge the expectation and norms regarding gender and motherhood. On the other hand, trans women initially face obstacles to being accepted into womanhood, by being mocked and mislabeled. According to Barber and Yarbrough, trans mothers usually have children before they transition (Barber & Yarbrough, 2014). Yet, trans women whether they have children before or adopt after are still excluded more particularly when they become mothers. To society, they deviate from how a mother should look and behave. They are made to feel as though they do not deserve the title of motherhood not only because of their inability to give birth but also because they are not cisgender women.

Transphobia and cisnormativity are the leading factors that cause trans women to be shut out from traditional motherhood experiences. Unlike infertile women who are seen as “real” women, but not “real” mothers, trans women are categorized as both neither “real” women nor “real” mothers. As a result, trans women are never truly a part of either, a lot of the time they are classified as “others.”

This discrimination towards trans women is an added layer of marginalization that infertile women do not face. The legal frameworks that govern motherhood are designed with heterosexual and cis-gendered couples in mind. Furthermore, they face additional legal barriers and economic inequalities that aren’t set for cis-gendered mothers. Adoption and surrogacy are significant challenges for them. All these factors contribute to the erasure of the opportunities for trans women to participate in motherhood.

With all the following in mind, these individuals showcase a few of the different faces of motherhood. Hence, they are all real and valid mothers and shouldn’t be excluded based on semantics. Parenthood and the dynamics of a mother and father have changed, and so have the dynamics within motherhood. Hence, we need to reframe our perception of the term, without it being hindered by one specific gendered identity. A mother is a parent and a guardian first, where gendered identity and biology should not be the primary focal point of the term.

 

References:

 

  1. Miall, C. E. (1987). The stigma of adoptive parent status: Perceptions of community attitudes toward adoption and the experience of informal social sanctioning. Family Relations, 36(1), 34. https://doi.org/10.2307/584644
  2. Ulrich, M., & Weatherall, A. (2000). Motherhood and infertility: Viewing motherhood through the lens of infertility. Feminism & Psychology, 10(3), 323–336. https://doi.org/10.1177/0959353500010003003
  3. Arendell, T. (2000). Conceiving and investigating motherhood: The decade’s scholarship. Journal of Marriage and Family, 62(4), 1192–1207. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1741-3737.2000.01192.x
  4. Barber, M. E., & Yarbrough, E. (2014). LGBT mothers. Motherhood, Mental Illness and Recovery, 109–117. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-01318-3_8

Like a Match to a Flame / She Gave but Never Lost

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Like a Match to a Flame / She Gave but Never Lost
By Jad Abou Serhal – Staff Writer

She grew up under missiles, hoping that every tribulation would only write her a stronger story for what is to come hereafter. She was raised under the influence of the patriarchy, only to become a human definition of feminism. Reclaiming motherhood from those who spelled it out for her, she wrote her story and fit it into the lives of the generation she raised at home. Reclaiming society’s ideology of femininity, she became an educator who broke the glass ceiling for several generations of women to come.

Her last name was Kabrita, Arabic for match–and the flame was inside of her. The second of three daughters, she refused to follow the trend of eloping in exchange for a life of being a financially supported housewife. That was not the kind of mother she wanted to be. The stronger the war got, the brighter the flame was for her to make it out of the country. Her family was unable to support her education, her mother confined to the house and her father reduced to selling chicken on the road over periods of truce.

“For the most part I only remember war and messy stuff. Messy “yaane” running from one place to another, escaping unpleasant situations. There were years where we had to flee in refuge to schools because the areas we lived in were bombarded. To wrap up, it was not a nice experience environment. I don’t really have clear memories, but I do know it’s a very dark period of the past that… I don’t like it.”

One scholarship after the other, she climbed her way up to a Master’s degree, which opened a door for her to pursue a PhD in the United States.

“I applied for scholarships and got full ones. Same thing when I got to graduate school. I had an assistantship, and same for when I went to the US. I also had to work in a teaching assistant post both before and after I traveled. This also helped, or else I wouldn’t have afforded going”.

Along the way, she found love.

His last name was Daou, Arabic for light–and she lit the flame. She fell in love with an officer, tied by occupation to the homeland she tried to escape. Her ambition to carve a name for herself, rather than passively take on that of a man who did it for her, forbade her from succumbing to the patriarchy. The light believed in her so much that he wouldn’t let her put out her own flame either, not in the name of society.

At the end of the day, there could be no light without a match. After their engagement, she took her burning flame with her to the United States, tied by a ring to an officer who waited six long years for her back home. Away from her folks and fiancé, she earned her family’s first ever title–a woman who had earned her family’s first ever title.

“I wanted to get my doctorate degree. It was definitely fueled by the desire to get out of Lebanon. There were so many things that supported that, mainly that the doctorate degree program at AUB closed during the war. So I didn’t have that option to start with, plus “inno ana” I always worked towards leaving the country.”

From then on, it was Doctor Kabrita to society. A woman who wrote her own story over the handwriting of those who transcribed a certain life for her.

Unfortunately, the patriarchy still managed to pull her by the leg. As she was a signature away from becoming a US citizen, background noise called her back to what used to be home. Society had given her a six-year grace period to fulfill her dreams, but there was a catch: “It was time she became a wife”. It was the only time she had succumbed to the pressure of society’s stereotypical expectations of womanhood, and she made sure it would be the last.

Their last name became Kabrita Daou and light finally met the match after six years. She came back a brighter flame, the light waiting for her to walk down the aisle as a doctor in white, except this time it wasn’t her lab coat. To her tough luck, the walk had to be postponed due to the death of a loved one–a time she could have spent working on her US papers. A time she had lost, all due to her mistake of falling for the patriarchy’s trap. She felt as though being able to do all what she did was too good to be true, and that she had suffered the consequences.

“For staying, my husband was working in the ISF, he was bound to Lebanon. As for the nationality, I simply needed to complete my 6th year in the US, and I was half-way there, but I had to come back as soon as I got my degree to marry my fiancée. However, the wedding got postponed for a year due to the passing of a family member. So overall, the nationality thing just did not work out.”

Through redefining motherhood, however, she found purpose once again. With that, she was back to being stuck in her country, not as a married woman, but a woman who was married. A woman who had placed a chair for herself among all the men in the workforce.

The lit flame slowly spread. She became a mother of many children; two of them biological, and the others, students across several consecutive generations. She worked two simultaneous shifts, as a college professor in class and a teacher of life at home. However, despite the war being over, it was as though her story was a broken record.

“When I came from the US, I thought it was over because I didn’t understand the political play back then, but it was just a refractory period. It is a mechanism that has been going on for ages… recurrent but growing in amplitude.”

She came back to a seemingly peaceful Lebanon, up until history was re-winded. An economic crisis hit her family, but it wasn’t strong enough to break the foundation she had built for herself, her family, and eventually her country. She became the breadwinner of the house, as the country mistreated those who fought for it, namely her husband. The woman, however, kept on fighting on behalf of Lebanon’s citizens. She carried her own children on one shoulder and the future of other families on the other. Not only did she have to manage making her children’s dreams come true amid all roadblocks, but also had to guide students through their careers to be able to help their families overcome the crisis. Just like she had the opportunity to learn and find independence, she was committed to pass that opportunity on to her students, many of which were also mothers sitting across form her in class.

She, to this day, has been passing her flame on to generations of young, liberated minds for 24 years. She interpreted motherhood as an opportunity to find a purpose of her own, one that she can inspire her own children through, but the mother inside of her did not let her stop there. Raising minds became a mission of hers, whether at home or in a classroom. With that, chapters can only ever be added to a story like hers. A story that reclaims motherhood in a context of patriarchy and redefines it through the eyes of a working mother to her children and people.

 

Rebranding Patriarchy: The Divine Feminine

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Rebranding Patriarchy: The Divine Feminine
By Malak Mansour – Senior Editor

Internet trends that originate from and are propagated by social media have always been an indicator of the current cultural zeitgeist. To analyze and critique these trends, it’s critical to understand that dismissing such internet phenomena as simply trends that rise and fall can be reductionist. Trends mostly related to aesthetics eventually coincide with and mold the consumer’s identity. As such, consumerist culture leads to the conflation of what we want with who we are, or at least, whom we should strive to be. With every post, trend, or overnight ‘micro-celebrity’, one wonders how our online behavior is going to reflect in our offline social interactions. One way we can visualize this manifestation is through the field of aesthetics, especially when it comes to those who identify as women or have been socialized as one. Aesthetics have never been constant throughout eras and the platonic ideal of what is beautiful is quite turbulent. Aesthetics are propagated throughout younger generations by selling the idea of individualism and uniqueness. It is the idea that everyone is living unique, independent, and never-seen-before lives, which might sound appealing at first sight but is false, and to take it a step further, alienating.

Women online have seen it all: clean girl aesthetic, cottage-core, dark feminine energy, e-girl aesthetic, it-girl aesthetic, trad wives, light or dark academia aesthetic, and more oddly specific derivatives of femininity that are niche enough to grant a false sense of individuality and differentiation. Maybe you are in your Fleabag era or in your manic pixie dream girl era, whichever you feel like you relate to the most for the month. However, these aesthetics are not restricted to what you wear or how you present yourself but extend deeper into your lifestyle, emotions, and thoughts. Nuance and complex personhood are reduced to identity labels that are mass-produced via viral trends, so you are another Type of Girl. One interesting manifestation of this internet phenomenon is the Divine Feminine aesthetic; a vaguely feminist way (at best) of reclaiming traditional femininity but in a cool girlboss-it’s-my-choice way, not in a misogynistic and patriarchal way, of course.

The divine feminine is the feminine counterpart to the traditional patriarchal figure. The person who embodies the divine feminine is in touch with their femininity or ‘inner goddess’, which is to say that there’s a spiritual aspect to it as well. The aesthetic encourages being in touch with nature and routinely practicing self-care. On the surface, these preaches are quite helpful; there can’t be downsides to taking care of yourself. While this is true, it takes a few minutes of watching ‘how to tap into your divine femininity’ videos to realize that the philosophy of the aesthetic is simply re-packaged gender roles. When you are nurturing, giving, and receiving love and affection, and being understanding you are radiating feminine energy, and when you’re being productive, chasing goals, and being assertive then you are tapping into your masculine energy. But the divine feminine is not just adopting certain behaviors or principles, it can also be largely consumerist because it is based on aspirational beauty, which can never be fully attainable. It heavily relies on how you present yourself aesthetically i.e., what is considered beautiful. Not shockingly, the idea of beauty is parallel if not congruent to what traditional feminine beauty is: no wrinkles, clear skin, hourglass figure, voluminous hair, and so on. Below is a collage of some screenshots from TikTok videos that include #feminine, #feminineenergy, or #divinefeminine as hashtags. The videos allude to womanly hygiene (which includes manicures and shaping eyebrows), being a high-value woman, how to prevent smile lines, wrinkles, crow’s feet, and other natural signs of aging or having a different body type.

 

For feminist activists that have been involved in the movement for a while, especially during the early 2010s, all the strides that have been taken to challenge and deconstruct such beauty standards and ideals of femininity have been revoked, which can be exhausting and tiring to see. The aesthetics of the divine feminine have been preached and encouraged for decades, especially regarding the fact that the standards remain Eurocentric! Moreover, if we were to deconstruct it from a class point of view, much of what is practiced can be financially inaccessible. Maintenance of feminine beauty is costly, and the heads of beauty corporations will be proponents and advocates for such movements if it means more supply and thus, more profit.

At the fundamentals of such trends, we keep going back to the same concept: an obsession with beauty. Adopting archetypes and aesthetics signifies an inability to exist outside of performance, and we end up handicapped by how we are perceived, what other people think of us, and what we hope to embody. We commodify ourselves to appeal to the constant surveillance of beauty and to a perceived audience. What is really required of us is to engage mindfully, actively, and critically with what we choose to consume. Choosing to express a curated aesthetic is really a personal choice, and it can be a fun one as well. But allowing trends to consume us and affect our self-esteem is dangerous because if there’s one thing the internet has taught us, it is that trends are ephemeral, but can greatly affect our identities. Engaging in aesthetics and beauty is not only inevitable but also natural. We connect with and are attracted to what we think is beautiful because it’s indulgent and surrounds us naturally. The problem becomes attributing beauty with morality i.e., what is good and bad. Aesthetic trends seem motivating because they are what drive us to take care of ourselves and to feel better, but they are detrimental in the long run because we never will attain them given that we are complex individuals, and not a carefully curated Pinterest board of idealized images.

 

References:

  1. ‘Our Obsession with Beauty is Dystopian’ https://youtu.be/55MshtmGsP0
  2. ‘Social Media’s Obsession with Aesthetics and Curated Identities’ https://youtu.be/31NDzvFtNnI
  3. ‘Gender Performativity and the Surveillance of Womanhood’ https://youtu.be/clt3Nj6dHwk
  4. ‘Being a queen is your birthright’ https://youtu.be/t9506JGYNDs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Attraction 101: A Brief Introduction to the Nature of Love

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Attraction 101: A Brief Introduction to the Nature of Love
By Mohamad Wehbe

 The oldest recorded reference to a love letter goes back to Indian mythology around 5000 years ago; Mentioned in the Bhagavata Purana, a revered text in Hinduism, a letter by princess Rukmini to king Krishna. According to the story, Rukmini was deeply in love with Krishna and wanted to marry him, but her brother wanted her to marry someone else. Rukmini then wrote a letter to Krishna expressing her love and asking him to come and rescue her from the forced marriage.

From ancient myths and legends to modern love stories, love has been a constant theme throughout human history, a force that has the power to inspire, heal and transform. But what exactly is love, and how does it manifest in our lives? Is it just a feeling or something more complex and nuanced? In recent years, scientists and scholars from a variety of disciplines have explored the concept of love, seeking to unravel its mysteries and understand its neurological and psychological basis. At the same time, cultural factors such as gender roles, societal expectations, and historical contexts have also shaped how we express and experience love.

 

The science of love

Many have experienced the rush of falling in love for the first time or the deep feelings of love for their family and friends. From a biological perspective, it is often said that the brain of someone in love is like that of someone on cocaine, and there is some truth to this claim. Both falling in love and taking cocaine can activate the brain’s reward centers, specifically the ventral tegmental area. This area is responsible for reward processing and is considered the “motivation hub” for the brain. The activation of this area happens when one eats sweets, quenches their thirst, or takes drugs of abuse. Activation releases the “feel good” neurotransmitter dopamine teaching your brain to repeat behaviors in anticipation of the same initial reward. This increased activity of the brain not only makes love feel euphoric but also draws one to their partner at the start. Studies have also shown that love can cause a decrease in activity in the prefrontal cortex of the brain, which is a region that allows individuals to engage in critical thinking, rational behavior, and self-awareness. Therefore, the phrase “love is blind” does hold some truth to it. When relationships develop, one often feels relaxed and attached to their partner, and that is mainly because of two important hormones: oxytocin and vasopressin. Oxytocin has been shown to play a role as a “bonding” hormone which helps us reinforce positive feelings towards people we already love, making us more attached to our family, friends, and significant others.

Despite making significant strides in understanding what love is, there are still many mysteries that remain elusive to science. Questions like: what causes romantic love in the first place? Can love be measured objectively? Why do certain people fall in love? And what role does culture play in shaping love?

 

How does culture shape our understanding of love?

Science is not enough to fully define or understand love as it is more than just the complex interplay of hormones. To answer questions on how certain people fall in love and how culture plays a crucial role in shaping this love, social scientists have studied how this universal emotion was experienced by people in various historical eras and different cultures, and how it manifested itself in different ways. Drawing historical comparisons on how love was viewed and defined in different contexts, such as in China and Europe, can help us better understand the impact culture can have on our current ideas of love.

During early Chinese history, ancient Chinese texts considered love and sexual pleasure as one of the “great joys of life.” Later, (around 1000 years ago), this changed as Chinese attitudes towards love became more repressive especially when it came to the expression of sexuality. Displays of love and sexual acts outside of marriage were heavily restricted, and the man was often assumed to be biologically-destined to seek satisfaction from women. In 1949, in the People’s Republic of China, love did not appear to play a major role in the life of a young Chinese man, where denial of romantic love often affirmed the importance of the “collective” over the “individual.” In the 1990s, things have come back full circle as there has been a rapid shift in the attitudes toward love and sexuality, which is mainly attributed to globalization and the internationalization of cinema.

In Europe, on the other hand, Christianity seemed to have a major influence on the understanding of love. In 12th century Europe, love was viewed as self-sacrificing and unselfish, implying a compassionate and benevolent relationship where love and friendship were closely related. At the end of the 12th century spanning until the 14th century, literature started to become more concerned with the idea of romantic love, and, slowly, a substantial change started to occur where the phenomenon of “courtly love.” Courtly love was seen as devotional with the courtly worship and idealization of a woman. Later, in the age of Shakespeare (16th-17th centuries), love was often described as a “strong, consuming, and powerful force that is impossible to resist.” Finally, during the Victorian era (19th century), love took a more spiritual nature where it was considered to be something “delicate.”

Love has been perceived and approached in diverse ways throughout history, varying across cultures, religions, literature, and politics. As a result, the interpretations of love and attitudes towards it have evolved significantly, impacting how people comprehend and experience love over time.

 

How do we currently experience Love?

A lot of our current expression of love and how we view it as individuals stem from the Western invention of “romantic love.” Some scholars believe that the idealization of love is a Western phenomenon where this concept of romantic love does not seem to exist in cultures like Japan or China. However, this does not seem to be the complete truth, as recent studies have shown that romantic or passionate love is a universal phenomenon, with some evolutionary psychologists suggesting that love may even be innate in human nature. A recent study published in nature in 2023 provided evidence love is a “near” universal human experience, but the level of modernization through education, urbanization, and industrialization may influence the way we express it. Although correlational, this study hypothesizes that cultural changes in a country’s level of modernization may influence the way one may experience intimacy or commitment.

 

Love and gender roles 

Finally, it is important to touch on how societal expectations through patriarchal and gender ideals influence how different individuals express love. Gender roles often limit the way individuals express love, where men and women are often split into a binary of specific societal roles they should fill in the relationship. For example, men are often expected to show their love through acts of protection and provision, while women are expected to show their love through acts of caregiving and emotional support. These traditional expressions of love should be challenged. Individuals should be encouraged to express their love in ways that feel authentic to whom they are rather than conforming to gendered expectations. Similarly to gender, the expression of love is also diverse and fluid. These non-traditional expressions of love should be celebrated because only through them we are truly able to express and be ourselves around our loved ones. As we continue to recognize and celebrate diverse expressions of gender and sexuality, we can create a space where we can be ourselves, free from the constraints of traditional gendered expectations of love.

 

Conclusion

Love is a complex and unique human experience that has been studied for centuries. While science has made significant strides in unraveling the biological and neurological basis of love, cultural and historical factors, as well as modernization continue to shape our understanding and expression of it. As the feeling of love and expression continues to be studied, keeping a sense of openness and acceptance of the different forms it may take is important. Ultimately, love remains a deeply personal and subjective experience, defying easy categorization or explanation.