Lujayn, 16, is not thinking about falling in love.
“I’m still young. In the future, not now,” she laughed nervously, while sitting next to her mother Laila (not her real name).
Dressed in a grey sweatshirt and a brown hijab, Lujayn explained how she and her friends were “pretty normal” and more focussed on studying and hanging out than love.
“We don’t do anything about that stuff,” she added with a shy smile.
Asked when she thought she would be old enough for love, the teenager paused for thought.
“University. I don’t know. I'll get married,” she said with hand held to her chin.
Credit: Mayur Gala/ Unsplash
What's love got to do with it?
As part of the 'She' podcast, SBS Arabic 24 spoke to a number of Arabic-speaking parents and their teenage daughters about love and its relation to family, religion and culture.
Michael J. Oghia, the author of writes that although it is sometimes framed as a modern Western invention, love is rich in Arabic literature, language, music and history.
However, love remains the elephant in the room to some in the Arab community.
Romantic relationships among teenagers are mostly frowned upon, and a by the Pew Research Institute shows that, not surprisingly, people are getting married later due to factors like increased focus on study and career.
Journalist argued in his article for The Guardian that in Arabic music – whether modern or traditional – love “seems to be just about the only theme”.
But at what age and in what context are Arab boys and girls allowed to have a taste of the magical elixir singers have been singing about for centuries?
Lujayn’s mother, Laila, was displaced from her birthplace in Iraq when she was a teenager. Her effort to continue her studies in her new home was in vain, and she ended up getting married at the age of 17.
But Lujayn, who grew up in Sydney, tells her mother she will never marry that young.
“Lujyan doesn’t even want to know if someone proposes to her. ‘Not until I finish my undergraduate studies,’ she tells me,” Laila explained.
Historically Arab lovers have never had it easy: from (Layla’s Lunatic), who lost his mind because his lover’s father refused to give her in marriage, to poets who had to go on risky night adventures to meet their sweethearts behind their family members' backs.
Laila, who describes herself as “open-minded”, said that if Lujayn says she likes someone, she will be happy to meet him. But she believes that everything must have “proper boundaries”.
Not simply because she [Lujayn] likes someone, can she talk to him and go out with him. This might be normal for other people, but it’s not for us. In our community, those issues are red lines.Laila, Lujayn’s mother
in his article for The Guardian, puts forward the argument that the fixation on love in cultural expression reveals a scarcity rather than abundance.
“[It] may reflect the large number of social barriers that keep the sexes apart, as well as the disempowerment and lack of choice many young people feel in their love lives.”
A large portion of love songs, according to Diab, are “melodramatic”, dealing with themes like the agony of romance, the large distances separating lovers, desperate yearning, pain and lost dreams.
Poetry has been no less dramatic.
In his famous early 20th century poem Nahj al-Burdah (The Way of the Mantle), Ahmed Shawqi described both the physical and the cultural boundaries.
“Between you and me, there is a barrier of spears, and above all a barrier of chastity.
"I have never visited you except in my dreams. Your place is farther for your seeker than Iram (mythical town).”
One hundred years later and more than 10,000 km away from the Arab world, Arab teenage girls and their families in Australia still talk about “boundaries”.
But where do those boundaries come from?
Yara Samir, a child psychiatrist Credit: Supplied
But not everyone thinks that lovers should be kept apart.
Mary (not her real name), a Syrian immigrant, has already had a few chats with her 14-year-old about love and romance, and she prefers to adopt a pragmatic approach.
“If my daughter tells me she likes someone, I’ll tell her to bring him home,” Mary said.
“I’ll tell her they can spend time here under my supervision, but they have to abide by certain rules. Otherwise, it is not allowed.”
The emphasis by both girls and families on feelings versus actions mirrors a concern about dating more than just falling in love.
Noor Hossam and her mother Heba Ibrahem echoed that worry.
“At the end of the day, we are humans, and we have feelings. You can’t control your feelings,” said Noor, who started university this year.
“As long as you don’t act upon it and put yourself in a bad situation, it’s OK,” she added.
Heba too is more concerned about the possible consequences of falling in love.
“It’s pretty normal to like someone at her age. But what matters is that she manages to control it.”
According to child psychiatrist Yara Samir, girls’ emotional development is not a linear process and is part of a bigger journey that eventually leads to maturity.
“Emotional development goes hand in hand with physical and cognitive development as well as hormonal changes,” Yara explained.
But usually by the age of 16, she said, most girls would feel “curious” about romance, though there are individual and cultural factors that influence the process.
“The patterns of relationships in a girl’s social circles affect her emotional development as well.
The environment shapes what it means to be a girl. ‘Who am I?’ is the biggest question that teenagers face. And their environment plays a major role in finding the answer.Child psychiatrist Yara Samir
'Family business'
Some respondents described love as a “family business”, with author Oghia writing that family involvement and endorsement of romantic partners is inevitable.
Heba said, “If she [daughter Noor] falls in love, she has to come and tell me.”
Noor agreed, explaining how her mother “has much more experience” and how she can help her make better choices.
Ayman Kamal acknowledged that while mothers are usually Arab girls’ secret keepers, he would like his teenage daughter to talk to him if she has feelings for someone.
When asked if he would allow his daughter to have a boyfriend, Kamal said firmly, “I wouldn’t allow it, if you want a yes or no answer. I’m a Middle Eastern man at the end of the day.”
Kamal, who has a 14-year-old daughter, believes that the main difference between how taboo subjects are approached here in Australia compared to the Arab world is the “room for discussion”.
“We will have a big discussion about it, and hopefully I’ll manage to convince her,” he said.
In Arab communities, mostly the only kind of love that can get some sort of social approval is the one that leads to marriage.
“Romantic relationships in Arab society are inextricably connected to marriage, which is relegated to the family and kinship networks,” writes .
The only acceptable context for romance, according to Randa, 16, is marriage, which she believes should come after university years.
“I don’t believe in the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing. It's a waste of time,” said Randa, a Year 12 student.
Laila and Heba proposed “seriousness” as a prerequisite for allowing their girls to engage in romance.
“He should be ready to start a family,” said Heba, explaining the characteristics of a potential suitable partner for Noor.
Despite his conservative stance, Kamal thinks that Arab parents in Australia should not assume that by showing their children right from wrong, they would automatically listen.
“They’ll make their own decisions at the end of the day,” he added.
Child psychiatrist Samir believes parents should be their children’s “safe haven” no matter what.
“Wrong decisions might be taken. And it might be painful for the parents to watch, but they need to be close to their children,” she said.
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