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Saturday, March 23, 2019

byJean P. Sasson Topics Women -- Saudi Arabia -- Social conditions., Princesses Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files. Jean Sasson grew up in a small town in Alabama—her mind always in a book and her hands always searching cover image of Princess Sultana's Daughters . SECRETS TO SHARE is Jean Sasson's explosive and riveting new book. As the world's attention traces the reluctant social advances in the Middle East.

Princess Jean Sasson Epub

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Princess More Tears to Cry by Jean Sasson. Read online, or download in secure EPUB format. DOWNLOAD The Complete Princess Trilogy: Princess; Princess Sultana's Daughters; and Princess Sultana's Circle by Jean Sasson [PDF EBOOK EPUB. [EPUB KINDLE PDF EBOOK] DOWNLOADS READ FREE Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arab By Jean Sasson. Success Ful Library.

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Princess Sultana's daughters

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Forever after, she divided her life into the time before the trip and the time after the trip. Once she told me that the trip had been the end of her youth, for she was too young to understand what lay ahead of her at the end of the long journey. Her parents had died in a fever epidemic, leaving her orphaned at the age of eight.

She had been married at the age of twelve to an intense man filled with dark cruelties. She was ill-equipped to do little more in life than his bidding.

My father was a merciless man; as a predictable result, my mother was a melancholy woman. Their tragic union eventually produced sixteen children, of whom eleven survived perilous childhoods.

Today, their ten female offspring live their lives controlled by the men to whom they are married. Their only surviving son, a prominent Saudi prince and businessman with four wives and numerous mistresses, leads a life of great promise and pleasure. From my reading, I know that most civilized successors of early cultures smile at the primitive ignorance of their ancestors.

As civilization advances, the fear of freedom for the individual is overcome through enlightenment. Human society eagerly rushes to embrace knowledge and change. Astonishingly, the land of my ancestors is little changed from that of a thousand years ago. Yes, modern buildings spring up, the latest health care is available to all, but consideration for women and for the quality of their lives still receives a shrug of indifference.

It is wrong, however, to blame our Muslim faith for the lowly position of women in our society. Although the Koran does state that women are secondary to men, much in the same way the Bible authorizes men to rule over women, our Prophet Mohammed taught only kindness and fairness toward those of my sex. Our Prophet scorned the practice of infanticide, a common custom in his day of ridding the family of unwanted females.

Yet there is nothing men will not do, there is nothing they have not done, in this land to ensure the birth of male, not female, offspring. The worth of a child born in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is still measured by the absence or the presence of a male organ. The men of my country feel they are what they have had to become.

Convinced that women have no control over their own sexual desires, it then becomes essential that the dominant male carefully guard the sexuality of the female. The authority of a Saudi male is unlimited; his wife and children survive only if he desires. In our homes, he is the state. This complex situation begins with the rearing of our young boys. From an early age, the male child is taught that women are of little value: They exist only for his comfort and convenience.

The child witnesses the disdain shown his mother and sisters by his father; this open contempt leads to his scorn of all females, and makes it impossible for him to enjoy friendship with anyone of the opposite sex.

Taught only the role of master to slave, it is little wonder that by the time he is old enough to take a mate, he considers her his chattel, not his partner. And so it comes to be that women in my land are ignored by their fathers, scorned by their brothers, and abused by their husbands.

This cycle is difficult to break, for the men who impose this life upon their women ensure their own marital unhappiness. For what man can be truly content surrounded by such misery? It is evident that the men of my land are searching for gratification by taking one wife after the other, followed by mistress after mistress. Little do these men know that their happiness can be found in their own home, with one woman of equality.

By treating women as slaves, as property, men have made themselves as unhappy as the women they rule, and have made love and true companionship unattainable to both sexes. The history of our women is buried behind the black veil of secrecy. Neither our births nor our deaths are made official in any public record. Although births of male children are documented in family or tribal records, none are maintained anywhere for females. The common emotion expressed at the birth of a female is either sorrow or shame.

Although hospital births and government record keeping are increasing, the majority of rural births take place at home. No country census is maintained by the government of Saudi Arabia. I have often asked myself, does this mean that we women of the desert do not exist, if our coming and our passing goes unrecorded?

If no one knows of my existence, does that mean I do not exist? This fact, more than the injustices of my life, has prompted me to take this very real risk in order to tell my story. The women of my country may be hidden by the veil and firmly controlled by our stern patriarchal society, but change will have to come, for we are a sex that is weary of the restraints of customs.

We yearn for our personal freedom. I will attempt to uncover the buried lives of other Saudi women, the millions of ordinary women not born of the Royal Family. My passion for the truth is simple, for I am one of those women who were ignored by their fathers, scorned by their brothers, and abused by their husbands. I am not alone in this. There are many more, just like me, who have no opportunity to tell their stories.

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It is rare that truth escapes from a Saudi palace, for there is great secrecy in our society, but what I have spoken here and what the author has written here are true. Chapter One: Childhood Ali slapped me to the ground, but I declined to hand over the shiny red apple just given me by the Pakistani cook.

Refusing to give in to his male prerogative of superiority, I had committed a grave act and knew that I would soon suffer the consequences. My sisters feared Omar almost as much as they did Ali or my father. They disappeared into the villa, leaving me alone to face the combined wrath of the men of the house. Moments later, Omar, followed by Ali, rushed through the side gate. I knew they would be the victors, for my young life was already rich with precedent.

Nevertheless, I swallowed the last bite of the apple and looked in triumph at my brother.


Reluctantly, my father looked up from his black ledger and glanced with irritation at his seemingly ever-present, unwanted daughter while holding out his arms in invitation to that treasured jewel, his eldest son. Ali was allowed to speak, while I was forbidden to respond.

I shouted out the truth of the incident. My father and brother were stunned into silence at my outburst, for females in my world are reconciled to a stern society that frowns upon the voicing of our opinions. All women learn at an early age to manipulate rather than to confront. The fires in the hearts of the once proud and fierce bedouin women have been extinguished; soft women who bear little resemblance to them remain in their stead.

The fear curled in my belly when I heard the shouting of my voice. My legs trembled under my body when my father arose from his chair, and I saw the movement of his arm but never felt the blow to my face. As punishment, Ali was given all my toys. To teach me that men were my masters, my father decreed that Ali would have the exclusive right to fill my plate at mealtimes. The triumphant Ali gave me the tiniest of portions and the worst cuts of meat.

Each night, I went to sleep hungry, for Ali placed a guard at my door and ordered him to forbid me to receive food from my mother or my sisters. My brother taunted me by entering my room at midnight laden with plates steaming with the delicious smells of cooked chicken and hot rice. Finally Ali wearied of his torture, but from that time on, when he was only nine years old, he was my devoted enemy.

Although I was only seven years old, as a result of the apple incident, I first became aware that I was a female who was shackled by males unburdened with consciences.

I saw the broken spirits of my mother and sisters, but I remained faithful to optimism and never doubted that I would one day triumph and my pain would be compensated by true justice. With this determination, from an early age, I was the family troublemaker. There were pleasant times in my young life too. Widowed, too old for further notice and thus complications from men, she was now merry and filled with wonderful stories from her youth of the days of the tribal battles.

She had witnessed the birth of our nation and mesmerized us with the tales of the valor of King Abdul Aziz and his followers. Sitting cross-legged on priceless Oriental carpets, my sisters and I nibbled on date pastries and almond cakes while immersed in the drama of the great victories of our kinsmen. This show of loyalty ensured their entry into the Royal Family by the marriages of their daughters.

The stage was set for my destiny as a princess.

In my youth, my family was privileged, though not yet wealthy. The income from oil production ensured that food was plentiful and medical care available, which at that time in our history seemed the greatest of luxuries.

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We lived in a large villa, made of concrete blocks painted snowy white. Through advances in education and with access to work, Saudi women are breaking through the barriers; they are becoming doctors, social workers, business owners and are even managing to push at the boundaries of public life.

Major steps forward have, undoubtedly, been made. But this is not the whole story. Sadly, despite changes in the law, all too often legal loopholes leave women exposed to terrible suppression, abuse and crimes of psychological and physical violence.

For many, the struggle for basic human rights continues. This fascinating insight will include personal stories of triumph and heartbreak, as told to Princess 'Sultana', her eldest daughter, and author Jean Sasson. Each of these stories will offer the reader a glimpse into different aspects of Saudi society, including the lives of the Princess, her daughter and other members of the Al-Saud Royal family.Later, he would recall how he burned with shame as his father ordered him to crawl into a large bag that was then slung over the saddle horn of his camel.

It is wrong, however, to blame our Muslim faith for the lowly position of women in our society. Each of these stories will offer the reader a glimpse into different aspects of Saudi society, including the lives of the Princess, her daughter and other members of the Al-Saud Royal family. It is evident that the men of my land are searching for gratification by taking one wife after the other, followed by mistress after mistress.

Mayada, Daughter of Iraq.