The Black Eyed*

"Unanswered questions. Answers unquestioned."

Women oppressed, making their voices heard through the language of silence. The alluring and tempestuous Delilah weilding her power with a glance. Aiesha, isolated by exile angrily flailing the only weapon she could find. Taman, stone cold silent throughout her violation and subdued when telling the tale. And the other girl, alone in her fantasy, stunting her life with each self-fulfilling script.

All these characters collide while in the pink room of limbo at the door to the martyr's room. Though living at separate time periods, their stories echo familiar refrains. We laugh, we sigh, we are disgusted, we sympathize. This is our story, too, we think.

But how can I, a blue-eyed woman, married to the woman of her choice, travelling at will, working for leisure, the daughter of a blue-eyed hippie feminist from Oklahoma, relate in anyway to the black-eyed women, sisters, daughters, wives and mothers of men named Mohammed. How can I claim in anyway to empathize with her plight?

My decisions are my own. Hers are handed down.

But ...

Your rules don't apply to me. I claim the right to claim your rights. I empathize through action. My actions will break your chain of stolen ownership. My dignity will be her dignity. You cannot stop the waves of freedom from crashing through your barrier walls.

I question your answers. Don't you dare question mine.

* A play by Betty Shamieh