More Girl Talk, or Day 52 in Doha

I finally got my Indian visa today... which means tomorrow night I have nothing stopping me from getting on the flight to Delhi.

But if I thought being a woman was good yesterday (and this morning), when I got to jump a ten-person queue and stay in a special waiting room, this afternoon amazed me. I walked in about ten minutes before I could pick up my passport and visa, and the line I was supposed to be in was nearly our the door--easily fifty people long. I asked the guy in the official-looking uniform where I needed to go, and he said to sit then pointed directly at the window. Seriously? I could waltz up to the window, when there were a bunch of men waiting, and just pick up my visa before them?

Yes, is the answer. I walked over, slightly hesitantly, and one of the men in line motioned me forward to take my place at the window next. They gave me my passport and visa, and I booked it out of there (once I checked out my visa, of course).

For a girl who praises gender equality, I had my hesitations about using my gender so blatantly to speed up my life in detriment to a group of men. Was is hypocritical to use that advantage when I don't support men using their gender-given advantages? I'm not a woman who is "scared" of public spaces and must get out of them as soon as possible; I'm not of the religious bend that thinks that men and women should be separated as much as possible. So my reasons for using the female "queue" were simply because I could and it would save me time.

You can tell that I'm struggling, probably a bit more with this than necessary, but I feel that it is something that is going to come up again and again. And how hard do I want to fight the cultural to advance my ideals?

Speaking of women and culture, my Islamic Feminism class started late today, so I gathered with the other girls by the couches outside before going in when the professor showed up. While we were out there, there were a variety of conversations going on, and when I looked over at Noef (one of the girls in the class who is wonderfully sensitive about me not knowing Arabic), she said that the others were talking about pregnancy.

Ok, that's all well and good. It was only when another girl asked about one of the girls' pregnancy that I became a bit shocked. Pregnant? Apparently, married and five months along.

I took that ok; you know, she's young, but it's the culture, and so forth. It is only when the other married girl in the class started talking about her newly-discovered pregnancy when the culture shock set in for real. Two married and pregnant women in my class. In university. In the states... never.

Tomorrow is going to be an odd day. I'm taking a (short, 3-hour) red-eye flight to Delhi at night, so I'll post before I leave, then probably once I have a clear head and some internet once I'm there. I don't think I'll be taking my laptop, since internet cafes have their own computers to use rather cheaply.

I am going with a friend named Max, who blogs as well, so our adventures should be well-documented. Wish me luck (and keep me in your prayers)!