Displaced Diaries: Syria
Za’atari Refugee Camp, Jordan
Hassan* literally just saw me walking to school one morning and said to his mom, “I’m choosing this girl.” It’s not uncommon to marry based on physical appearance. He didn’t study or care about many things. He didn’t have any passions. He didn’t like to talk about meaningful things. He barely liked to talk at all. I’m not sure what we had in common other than the fact we were physically attracted to one another. I’m not sure why I said yes. Probably because I was so young, and it’s what everyone did.
My mother never approved, and I should have listened. She thinks it’s unnatural for women in our culture to marry so young. In the camp, it’s emphasized and encouraged to marry before 18. They say this is to protect the girl, but I never understood this and wish I had waited until I was older and possessed a stronger awareness of people and myself. Even from 16 to 20, I’ve changed so much. My father was more supportive of the idea, claiming that because most girls in the camp marry young, it would be a good idea for my safety and reputation. So, I signed the paperwork and completed the transaction because that’s how marriage usually works.
The first time I met Hassan was at our engagement. We didn’t speak at all before then. I had only seen him once or twice, and shortly after we got married, Hassan began traveling to Abu Dhabi for work. In my culture, a girl usually lives at her husband's house with his family when she gets married. There’s almost always a callous power dynamic between the wife and mother-in-law. I was 16 and being harassed by my husband’s mother and sisters. They would say nasty things about me—to my face and behind my back. Most of the time, I stayed in my room with the door shut, reading and praying to God.
Eight months into my marriage, I had a big exam at school. When I got to school, I realized I had forgotten the I.D. card that permitted me to take the exam. Panicked, I ran back to Hassan’s house to retrieve my card. When I told him what happened, he was upset with me and wouldn’t let me take it. I was so angry that I called my father, and he came to Hassan’s house, and they got into a fight. Hassan punched my father in the face.
“You have to choose between your family and me!” he yelled.
The word “divorcee” is used frequently in the camp. It’s kind of taboo. Most girls get married at 15 or 16 and don’t know anything. They just know about the pretty dresses, the parties, the makeup, and the dancing. It all sounds so fancy and exciting. Then, once the wedding celebrations are over, reality sets in.
People said a lot of terrible things about me when I divorced Hassan, but my family supported me because they knew how unhappy I was in my marriage. When I first divorced Mahmoud, I didn’t want to talk about it. I would hide in my room and shut everyone out. I fell into a terrible depression, but soon I learned how many other girls my age had similar problems. And they weren’t talking either. Like me, they would keep all of their problems hidden inside because they were too afraid to talk about them. I knew I had to be the one to break the silence.
Girls and families are now becoming more aware of the consequences of early marriage. Some of this awareness is thanks to the NGOs in the camp, and some of it is thanks to word of mouth. Some of this is because people are hearing stories like mine. Now, this is a topic of open discussion in my own family. We talk about it all the time – my younger sisters even say they don’t want to marry at all!
And now, I give advice to other girls who have gone through similar situations or experiences. I tell them to stop thinking about what happened to them. Go out and change your environment. Write. Draw. Paint. Learn a new skill. Don’t worry if people talk about you, because they will no matter what. Whatever you do—you can’t let their opinions hinder you.
In most marriages in the camp, there is no love. Here, it is very rare to find real love between a man and a woman. But what I’ve learned is if there is no love, you can easily have problems. It would be much better if people actually married who they loved.
My marriage taught me not to let people walk all over me. Now, I feel like if there’s something that I really want and know is right; I’ll go after it. The same goes with what I know is wrong—I’ll speak out against it. It’s important to stay true to yourself and trust your instincts. It’s better to talk about things and not keep them inside. That’s the only way to heal.
*Names have been changed.