Look for the Woman

By the woman of letters Mrs. Asma Tubi

Look for... the woman who laid the greatest stone in the building of the Pasteur Institute.
Look for... the woman who raised the great man of the Arabs in Andalusia.
Look for... the woman who contents herself with the portion of the unknown soldier.
"And it might only be just to look for the man!"

It is an idea that has prevailed until it has become a fixed creed — the idea that at the root of every disturbance that befalls society, or misfortune that strikes a family, there is a woman.. So whenever the blow falls, people whisper without examination, men and women alike: look for the woman.

An unemployment crisis descends upon the world, and workless laborers fill the land asking for work to bring in bread for their children; meetings are held to consider a solution to the crisis or a lightening of it; they study the matter and study it, then come out shaking their heads and saying, "Look for the woman." Woman has crowded in upon the man, and this crowding has produced the crisis.. And they have forgotten, or pretended to forget, that this woman works, most often, to support her people or her children after they have lost their breadwinner, or to support herself after she had been a heavy burden on the man's shoulder; so she is not a rival at all, but a partner, working just as he works, to lighten the woes of life..

A scandal breaks out in a family; two friends quarrel over a corrupt passion until blood may even be shed, and tender youth and a brilliant future destroyed; and people whisper, and there issues from their mouths, in a pained sigh: look for the woman. Were they fair, they would lay the responsibility upon the two partners together — upon the friend who betrayed the trust, and upon the wife who betrayed the pledge... Were they fair, they would lay the blame upon a corrupt passion that knows neither selflessness nor sacrifice, upon a debased character, and upon a slack friendship never braced by brotherly love and lofty sincerity.

"I passed a little girl of five, sitting on a doorstep and crying. I asked her, what is the matter, little one? And with all the simplicity of children she answered: Mother has given birth to a girl."

Chaos reigns in a house — chaos in its finances, chaos in the treatment of the little ones, chaos in every corner of the house; the neighbors and visitors take notice and whisper: look for the woman. And perhaps justice would demand that they look for the man; for the master of the house may be a spendthrift and a gambler who begrudges his wife whatever would secure the family's happiness; he may be a drunkard and a profligate who has so ill-used the poor woman that her nerves have broken, and her pains and her despair have turned her away from everything around her..

And woman has her share in the greatest of affairs. Here is the discoverer of America, knocking at the doors of the kings of Europe, asking protection and money to bring into being an idea that set his brain aflame — and all of them fail him; and when he comes before the great king of Spain, and he in his turn fails him, the woman stepped in: she prevailed over the members of the council that had been convened to consider the matter and had resolved to refuse the request, and she prevailed likewise over the monarch, who feared to hazard the expenses of the brave seafarer.. Isabella the wise, the monarch's wife, went on arguing and persuading, and then offered her jewels to meet Columbus's expenses, until the monarch, before such sacrifice and such courage, was compelled to yield, crying: Let it be as the beloved Isabella wills.. And the idea was carried out, and history recorded for Columbus his immortal deed, while Isabella lay down in one of history's modest corners — and no one said, look for the woman.

And here is Pasteur, the man of blessing to the world, gathering charity to build an institute or a laboratory. He calls upon a certain lady, and she hands him a check, which he takes with thanks, without looking at it, believing that the benefactress had given a thousand francs at the very most. The man goes out — then comes back in haste, seizing the lady's hand, emotion locking the words of thanks in his mouth: he had read on the paper these words, "Pay to the order of Louis Pasteur one million francs." And the Pasteur Institute was built — that institute whose motto is: here

a man is not asked who he is, nor what faith he professes; all that is said to him is: you are suffering, and your pains shall be relieved. The Pasteur Institute was built, and history kept for the king of humanity the fairest of remembrance; but the woman who laid the biggest stone in the building of the institute lay down in a modest corner — and no one said, look for the woman.

And here is the great man of the Arabs in Andalusia, Abd al-Rahman al-Nasir — the man who took charge of Andalusia while it reeled with seditions and drowned in blood, and it was not long before it grew calm under his wisdom; the man who took seventy fortresses in a single campaign, then pressed deep into the heart of France, and penetrated into the bowels of Switzerland, and gathered in the edges of Italy — this man, a wonder in his intelligence, his daring, and his devotion: where is he who will recall his greatness in his conquests, his greatness in his rule, his greatness in his monuments, and then search for the woman who alone brought him up after she lost her husband while he was still young — who laid up in his breast the secret of perfection, and in his soul the secret of loftiness? Where is he who will search for this woman, so as to say before the assembled people: look for the woman?

How many an Arab woman has lived to plant the spirit of ambition in her child's soul; and how many a woman has stood at a man's side, feeding him with hopes, upholding him with devotion, breathing energy and resolve into his spirit — until, when he had climbed the ladder of glory and she had presented him to his nation a great man, she stepped aside, content with the unknown soldier's portion of this world..

We want justice for woman — justice, not mercy. We want justice for this creature who is wronged as an unborn child, so that the mother would deliberately cast her off could she but be certain of her sex; who is wronged the very hour she looks out upon the world — for when the angel of peace comes down to the mother's house bearing her infant upon his arms, the faces darken and the mouths whisper bitterly, "a girl"; who is wronged as a child, for she stands in second place after her brother — his is a double portion of affection and indulgence and everything else — and she notices it, child though she is, and suffers. I passed one day a little girl of five sitting on a doorstep, crying so bitterly that her eyes were swollen. I asked her, what is the matter, little one? And with all the simplicity and trust of children she answered, sobbing, "Mother has given birth to a girl — now we are four".. And I went on my way with the picture of the child keeping me company: a creature who feels that her presence in the house is not wanted — can anything be expected of her but that she grow up resentful of the world, and of those who brought her into the world?

We want justice for her as a wife. For hundreds of years we have gone on asking her to bear patiently with the husband's faults and to cover over his defects, and we shall go on asking it of her; but we shall ask of the other partner that he perform his duty toward her with the utmost sincerity, and if he holds back, we shall not lay upon her the burden of his holding back, nor whisper bitterly, look for the woman..

We want justice for her as a mother; for all that is spent for her sake does not equal one tear she has shed for ours. And whatever may appear in her that does not agree with our minds and our inclinations — her motherhood, which human beings are powerless to describe, intercedes for it.

We want justice for her in all circumstances and conditions — a creature like the rest of mankind, with her faults and her errors, and with her merits and her virtues; a creature with her part in the tragedies and the joys, in the good and the evil..

We want justice for woman. But where does this justice begin, if not in the heart of woman? And where is its seed planted, if not in the home over which a woman rules and whose people she guides?