"THE DIFFERENTLY ABLED SUICIDE BOMBER"

The Iconcolast ^ | November 11, 2002 | Shinaz Nasreen Damaj Hijaj

[clintonbaiter]

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"THE DIFFERENTLY ABLED SUICIDE BOMBER"
by Shinaz Nasreen Damaj Hijaj
Translated by Marni Soupcoff

My name is Shinaz Nasreen Damaj Hijaj. I am a paraplegic. I am a lesbian. But foremost, I am a Palestinian suicide bomber.

When I was growing up, people told me that I could not do things the other children could do. When my friends were out throwing large rocks at the Israeli soldiers, trying to get them to shoot so that the Western reporters could take pictures, I was told to stay at home. I was told I could not join in the fun because I had no legs. I was only allowed to wheel myself out once the shooting started so that I might get in one of the pictures.

Things only got worse as I matured. I realized when I was about fourteen that I was not sexually attracted to men. This is not considered a problem where I come from, as women are not really supposed to be sexual at all. But it was worse: I realized that my biggest turn-on was women in headscarves. This was frowned upon in my traditional Palestinian family. I became an outcast.

But I refused to give in. I had always -- from the day I was a little girl -- dreamt of being part of a glorious jihad. I could think of nothing more satisfying than blowing a bunch of Israeli civilians into smithereens by strapping myself with explosives and igniting myself on a cross-town bus. And what was more, I knew I had an advantage over other soldiers in the Jihad: no one would ever suspect a handicapped lesbian!

The day I turned eighteen, I approached the guy in my village in charge of suicide bombings. When I was young and naïve, I used to think that suicide bombings just happened. I thought they were something beautiful and natural: spontaneous, unplanned expressions of hate. But it turns out they actually take a lot of planning. So, that's why this guy named Nabil, who lives down the street from me, is in charge of organizing stuff.

As I rolled myself up to Nabil's house, I took a deep breath. I had been practicing my speech for a long time about the fact that I was not disabled, but differently abled. I knew what I was going to say about my years of feeling disenfranchised and isolated and my decision to end all that by making a positive contribution to the glorious jihad.

When Nabil came to the door, he recognized me right away.

"Hey, you're that dyke quad," he said.

I ignored his insensitivity and intolerance. I was there to empower myself. I refused to be bound by the limits and small thinking of others. I embraced myself (mentally -- I am not really able to physically), and told Nabil my plan.

"You've got to be kidding," Nabil said.

I told him that I was not. I explained the strategic advantage I possessed as a woman and someone with an apparent handicap. I could not remember how being a lesbian helped, though I knew at some point I had figured out that it did. I pleaded with Nabil to open his mind and consider the valuable contributions I could make.

But, alas, Nabil could not see beyond the physical me to those things that made me special and different -- a strong spiritually-empowered woman of alternate sexual preferences who was eager and willing to carry out the glorious Jihad.

"Get out of my face dyke quad," Nabil said.

It was then that the tears started streaming down my cheeks, searing my skin as they fell onto my arms and hands. I felt the terrible hatred of prejudice dig into me like a thousand knives, and I wept for all the people I would not be able to kill because of the small minds of others.

But as I rolled slowly away from Nabil's home, I realized that no matter how hurtful or vicious Nabil's words, they could never crush my spirit. Nabil might not appreciate my abilities, but in my heart I knew I was a strong individual, a bright young lesbian woman who did not need the approval of others to define her self worth. I would stop depending on the outside world and start taking responsibility for my own situation. I would take control. I would file a complaint with the United Nations.

My United Nations complaint took a very long time. I thought it would be a simple matter. I would explain that I was a lesbian paraplegic who was being discriminated against in her efforts to become a terrorist. But when I came to the part of my complaint where I wanted to say which treaties or laws Nabil was violating by not accommodating me and letting me join the Jihad, I found there were a lot more than I had expected. It turned out that by not letting me blow up Israelis, Nabil was violating The Universal Declaration of Human Rights; the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights; the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights; the ILO Vocational Rehabilitation and Employment (Disabled Persons) Convention (No. 159); the Declaration on the Rights of Disabled Persons; the World Programme of Action Concerning Disabled Persons; the Vienna Declaration; the Cairo Programme of Action; the Copenhagen Declaration; the Copenhagen Programme of Action; the Bejing Platform for Action; and the Istanbul Declaration. Nabil was looking like a really bad guy!

It turned out that by keeping me from being a terrorist, Nabil was violating more laws, compacts, and conventions than I could catalogue. But I made some tough choices and limited my complaint to thirty pages, so that it would have a better chance of being read. Then, on a very hot and dry morning, I sent it off.

The waiting was unbearable. Every day, I would wake early, hoping to hear news from the UN, but there would be nothing. I would watch the children I had grown up with trot proudly off to blow up Israeli nightclubs and cafes, but I was powerless to help. I felt more marginalized than I ever had before....

[clintonbaiter]

Tears at the heartstrings.

Please do NOT read if you are a regular reader of the New York Times or The Nation. Dangerous to your mental health.

[Dimensio]

I wonder if that will make the rounds as a 'true' story as demonstration of the outlandish nature of some group...

[Pearls Before Swine]

Hilarious! "Get out of my face, dyke quad."

Thanks for posting.

[ConservativeConvert]

This HAS to be a joke...

[pttttt]

This has to be a gag. If it was in the US PNW, it might be believable.

[clintonbaiter]

Of course it's a joke! And a pretty irreverent and insightful one at that!

[packrat01]

hey, unhand me. Leggo my leg!

Does Janet R know there's a new cause to fight for???

[rocknotsand]

Its way too far-fetched to be funny. It flags itself to early in the piece. A joke like this should sustain your "is it or isn't it" suspicions until the last line.

The idea that Nabil would be cordial is too unrealistic. In reality, Nabil or his ilk tag the would-be homicide bomer an infiltrator and she is shot or hanged or stoned as an anti-Islam deviant etc.

[MrJingles]

Very funny! Bump!