Viagra Sandwish

This evening I have nothing profound or important to say. Just that there are times when I am actually thankful to live in Saudi Arabia.I’m thankful that when it rains here it’s so special it brings tears to my eyes. I’m thankful that I bought breakfast for my friend and I for under $1 this morning. I’m thankful that I spoke with a clerk from India today who nearly cried just because I spoke to him, asked him how he was doing, and ask him about his home instead of yelling at him like the women behind me in the line. And I am thankful for the fact that English is not spoken as a first language here, because it leaves the doors wide open for priceless errors in translation. I leave you with the brochure for the place I grabbed dinner from tonight. Enjoy. And find something to be thankful for.

Get your erection in sandwish form, gentlemen.

Ramblings

I want to go home. And you know what’s funny? I’m not even talking about America. I want to go home to my house that’s 5 minutes away from my mother in law’s house. I want to go back to my dusty as hell, never quite clean house where my ears and my mind have peace. I feel this house seething with negativity despite the several hundred amulets and Quran writings hanging around on the walls and propped up on the tables.

I’ve been working hard on inner peace, but I haven’t quite figured out how to maintain it when there is very little peace in my environment. I am currently worried that I will only achieve the peace I’m looking for if I become a crazy hermit woman who lives in a tent in the woods like my best friend Chris’s neighbor back home. We always used to think that guy was nuts. He had plenty of money, but opted to live in a lean to in the woods. Now I think he was probably onto something. It’s obvious to me now that he was made to live with a family member and he instead decided to say say fuck it and live in the woods. Next time I’m in town I may take him a cup of coffee.

When I’m not here at my mil’s house, I’m keeping busy with friends. Last week my friend B invited me over to learn how to make soap. It was a really exciting experience and it’s always fun to learn something new. I think I’ll need like 700 more lessons before I could call myself a maker of soap though, and I have a whole new respect for B who somehow keeps her head on straight when dealing with the whole process. I’ll stick to cooking where adjusting recipes will not result in the burning of skin or other undesirable chemical reactions.

Thursday was breakfast day for the most fabulous Riyadh blogging girls. It’s always great to hang out with friends, especially those who share a love for writing and a frustration with life in Riyadh, and this meeting was especially exciting because we got to meet a new face too. Um Lujain (my gossip partner) from Lost in Riyadh, Nicole (cutest pregnant lady around) from The Same Rainbow’s End, Layla from Blue Abaya, and *drumroll please* Mama B from Ya Maamaa (she fit right in!) were all there. We ate and chatted about everything and nothing all at once, as women do, and I tried my best not to eat my food like a hungry lion. Surprisingly, NO ONE talked about anyone’s blog! It’s still so surreal to me that every single one of my friends here have been made thanks to either this blog or Facebook. Never knock online relationships, people. They’re amazing. I may find my next husband on the internet.

Thankfully, I have a few more outings scheduled this week that will help to keep me sane. I’ll be making another trip to B’s house to mostly talk and discuss what we should be doing and maybe create something, maybe photograph her baby, and maybe feed the children. Tuesday, I’m so excited to report, I will be meeting with one of my frequent participators here on the blog, Maha, for coffee and chatting as we always say we will do someday. I had no idea someday would be this week, but man am I excited! To my other readers in Riyadh, I’m always up for a meeting. Unless you’re crazy. Thursday will be a Mother’s Day brunch at Um Lujain’s house and yes, it will be as fancy as it sounds. Must decide what to cook, must find expandable yet cute outfit, must blow the dust off my makeup.

Yesterday I received my daughter’s end of year exam schedule and found out school will end on the 29th of May. I realized that HOLY CRAP we are already in May and when I told her there were only 25 days left until the end of school, my girl did a wild child dance around the house and made up a song on the spot about it. I’m not really ready for the end of school yet. It totally came out of nowhere, and I’m not ready for my daughter to be a third grader. It was in the third grade that I had my first real life crush on a boy (Brett Skaggs, who impressed me by eating an ant for $1 and who stole my heart by giving me a box of pencils) and when I met a few lifelong friends. It’s crazy to think of the third grade as a turning point in your life, but it was in mine, and as my daughter grows further and further away from the tiny baby I used to hold in my arms, I feel like maybe her third grade year will not only change her life, but will change mine as well.

Summer vacation plans are still sketchy. With The Mr. being out of the country (have I mentioned how fabulous that is, btw?) and unsure of his return date, he is not yet into discussing sending us away for a long stretch of time. Understandably, this has set my family and friends into panic mode, wondering when I’ll be there or if I’m coming at all. I’ve decided to accept whatever happens. If I go, I go, if not…oh well. I do hope going is in the cards though, because my family needs me as much as I need them, and I feel guilty for being away.

I guess this turned into another update post, didn’t it? Or maybe just a ramble. I swear I have several posts in the drafts folder, but I just felt like chatting today. Maybe I’ll get around to the others eventually.

Everyone Loves Updates

I suppose it’s time to update you all with an obligatory I’m not dead post. And everyone loves updates, so here we go!

The past several weeks have been chaotic, but in a good way. In an effort to stay busy and make money, I signed up to sell my food at a bazaar for a health fair about a month ago. I figured since I cook all the time anyway, I should see if other people might like my cooking and if they’d be willing to pay for it. The event took place this past Thursday, and I accomplished both parts of my goal. I stayed mega busy until about three days ago, and made a little spending money. I’ve managed to catch up on blog comments and emails from readers, but deciding what to write about first has been a struggle for me. So naturally, I decided on an update.  Three days after the bazaar and I am only now starting to feel my brain come back to life.

The same night of the bazaar The Mr. left the country for a business trip. He’d been saying he was going to have to go for the past few weeks and was just waiting on the confirmation of exactly when. No, I did not will this trip into existence, the Universe was just being kind to me, obviously knowing I needed a break. It sounds awful, but I am absolutely thrilled about it. Except for the fact that I’m not allowed to stay at my house during his trip. He’d been telling me for weeks that I’d have to go to his mother’s to stay while he was out of the country, and I’d been insisting that in no way shape or form would I be doing any such thing, but at the end of the day I decided not to fight it and go. I’m not excited about it, but I’m trying to treat my stay here as a mini vacation. Yes, it’s loud and chaotic and the TV is on a constant rotation of news footage of abuse in Syria, ridiculous religious programs, and cooking shows, but hey…I don’t have to clean here. So it’s a decent trade-off. I’ve had plenty of time to read, to stare at my computer and argue with myself about what I want to write, and I’m brushing up on my Arabic, which I’ve realized is in a sad state these days. Apparently if you don’t use it you really do lose it.

I’ve been somewhat antisocial lately. Well, not in the traditional sense of the word I guess. There are still friends I talk to every day and would hang out with any time, but the irritation that I feel from some individuals and groups of people is overwhelming, so it’s just easier to stay away. I think it is because I’m trying really hard to keep negativity out of my life, so when any of it comes my way I feel anxious, nervous, and sick to my stomach. I have to figure out a way to be peaceful inside and deal with the not so peaceful outside. Right now I’d like to crawl under a rock, but not because I don’t love life. I adore life. I just want a brief period of alone time between life and I. I need to scoop up about 3 or 4 people, escape to a secluded location (which still has indoor plumbing), and cut out the rest of the world for at least a month. Maybe longer.

The news. For a person who has mostly cut out TV, there seems to be a lot of news coming my way that I’m not asking for. There’s a reason I cut out the TV and the news in particular. I feel like it drains me. Yes, there are bad things happening in the world, but I don’t believe that endless consumption of images and stories of the world going to Hell in a handbasket is going to solve anything. I’m really all done with hearing about wars, bombings and violence and witnessing the speculation, misinformation, and manipulation of events that are inevitably, and one could even say happily, dished out by the media. I was doing great on my TV fast, just sticking to my Cosby show schedule and occasional movie, but then everyone on Facebook and Twitter decided they’d like to rudely ignore my preferences. And we’re back to longing for the life of a hermit and a possible break from the entire internet as a whole.

Today I got a haircut for the first time in well over a year. I’ve been in an unchanging cycle for the past 20 years or so where I swear I’m going to grow my hair long, it gets long and I can’t stand it so I put it in a ponytail every day, then I hack it all off and swear I’m going to grow it out again. So I was in the long phase until just a few hours ago. Back home the cycle used to move a little more quickly because I had a trusted stylist and I didn’t have a panic attack every time I entered  her salon. I knew she understood how to work with my fine, thin hair, she knew what cuts looked good with the shape of my face, and she knows all about my tendency to be lazy and pull my hair into a ponytail. So I was never afraid that I’d come out looking like a sideshow freak. Here it’s a totally different story. I’ve had my hair cut, dyed, and, styled here, all at different times and different salons. All horrific outcomes. In an attempt to have highlights I was once given pumpkin colored orange streaks. Once when I went to get my hair curled for a party I came out looking like one of the Golden Girls. Last year I got a cut at an upscale salon and the lady (I won’t even call her a stylist), in an attempt to create volume, created a bald spot in the back of my head. So this time I decided that enough is enough, and took the advice of a couple of friends and tried a new salon. The cut isn’t exactly what I was looking for, but I do feel lighter and fresher, and maybe if I Youtube it I can get it to where I want it shape wise. I feel a little like a mushroom. But it’s so much better than I was expecting and what I’ve had in the past. I didn’t even cry when I saw it, and I’d consider going back if I ever got stuck in the ponytail phase for too long again.

So that’s my news for now, Readers. I have no less than 5 posts in the works and if I can ever get my brain, my emotions, and my fingers to work toward the same goal, you  might find one of them published here someday. It turns out it’s kind of hard to write about your life when you’re not allowed to write about your life. So until I figure it out, bear with me.

We Do Things Differently

Everyone who moves to Saudi, no matter why they come here or where they come from, has to make some adjustments to their normal way of life. Of course, there are cultural norms and customs to take into consideration, prayer times to work around when shopping or visiting any business, shower schedule changes when the temperatures rise, and of course, as a woman, you’re always waiting on someone or something.

But as honorary members of Saudi families, my fellow Saudi wives and I have gone a few steps beyond the basics. There are certain things we do here that we would never do back home and some that we wouldn’t even do in front of fellow expats who are not Saudi by association. Here’s a peek into our weirdness.

Feet Washing
When my sister and I were little we stayed with my Gram. We’d play outside barefooted like little kids do, so of course Gram would yell at us every night before bed, saying “Wash your feet! You’re not going to dirty up my sheets!” which was always a mystery to me considering she washed the sheets faithfully every week. Nevertheless, that lecture from Gram stuck with me and I still can’t go to bed with dirty feet. Back home, I usually wouldn’t have a reason to wash them before bed because my playing barefoot outside ended with my childhood, so unless they were visibly dirty, no washing. In Saudi, feet washing is a must! The dust is constant, sandals are worn almost year round, so our whole family has a nightly routine of teeth brushing and feet washing.

These are not allowed on the sheets!

Night Owls
If you make a late night trip to WalMart for milk (and these cute candles you found in the clearance aisle, and some nail polish that looks good with that dress you’re wearing this weekend, and OMG they have no-bake cookies in the bakery, and oooh strawberries in April…I wonder if they’ll taste good yet) and you get to the cashier to find yourself behind a mother and her 3 half dressed, dirty children bargaining for candy at 11 o’clock on a Tuesday night, you’re likely to think to yourself “what kind of parent has their kids out at 11 o’clock on a school night?” But if you’re in Saudi Arabia, scenes such as those will start to be come less and less strange. People here have different sleeping habits such as long afternoon/evening naps followed by late nights. During Ramadan this is practiced by nearly everyone I know. Even malls stay open until nearly dawn and they are PACKED. I’d never dream of letting my daughter stay up until 1 or 2am back home, but in KSA it’s par for the course. The picture above is one example of how a kid passes out when you let them stay awake until obscene hours of the night. Here’s another:

Kicking men out
By now you’re all aware that in Saudi Arabia there is strict segregation between the sexes, and that segregation doesn’t only happen in public places. In Saudi homes, unrelated men and women don’t typically mix. This means when I am invited to a friend’s home, she’s already told her husband to get lost and not come back until I leave. The same goes when I invite girlfriends over as well. From the outside looking in, it may seem offensive or unfair, and maybe it is, but we learn to love it. And in a country where women are usually the ones being inconvenienced, it’s a welcome practice.
All is usually well unless the man of the house needs to come home or pass through for something. Then you may find yourself hiding in a different room. Or the man of the house may find himself unable to enter his own house, or be made to enter through a different door. And the men are polite enough here that when they enter a house or a room where unrelated women may be, they’ll make their presence known first. My friend’s husband gives a loud and hilarious throat clear. The Mr. will announce a loud and manly SALAM ALAIKUM. There have been times at gatherings where men have entered unannounced. It has always resulted in women screaming, diving for cover, and using creative items to cover their heads, such as couch cushions, kleenex, or babies.
Back home this generally would not happen because mixing is generally fine, and women who cover will remain covered unless they’ve been given explicit guarantees that no men will be coming home.

Washing the yard
You’ve probably mowed a lawn before, or raked some leaves. You’ve weeded out your garden and trimmed your hedges. Maybe you’re a pro when it comes to gardening. But unless you’ve called Saudi Arabia (or the greater Middle East) home, you’ve probably not had much experience with washing your yard. Here it is common for most homes to be surrounded by tiles or bricks, not grass. Some homes will have grass as well, but all homes have at least some paved or tiled areas that need washing. As I mentioned, the dust here is constant and overwhelming, and no one likes it all being tracked inside. So once a week, I unwind my garden hose and wash down the yard, the doors, the windows, and the walls surrounding my house. When it’s really hot outside, I even let my daughter wear her bathing suit and play in the water as I wash. Like this:

Cleaning Frequency
Back home I had a weekend cleaning routine, usually on Saturdays, that lasted maximum two hours. I’d vacuum, mop, dust, clean bedrooms and bathrooms, windows and all in one cleaning frenzy and for the other six days a week, I could get by with doing the dishes and a load of laundry every day. Here is another story. When I first moved into my current house, I would spend hours every day cleaning. I tried to do it all every day too, which eventually became exhausting and living in a dirty home started to seem more and more appealing. I’ve found a balance now with days off and have become at peace with the fact that my house will never be entirely clean. Even with that peace, maintaining an almost clean house takes 10x the work it took me to have a spic and span place in the States. No, I’m not showing you a picture of my dusty house.

Kleenex
This paper product is solely reserved for the blowing of noses in the US of A. I would never dream of inviting friends over for a meal and tossing a box of kleenex in the middle of the table for them to wipe their hands on. But here, it’s what you do. Kleenex is a multi-purpose item used for nose blowing, mess cleaning, window washing, hand and face cleaning, bum drying, and hand drying. Etc. Even in the nicest of restaurants here, you will find a box of kleenex on the table. Pro tip: take a few with you to the bathroom because there probably won’t be anything in there for bum or hand drying.

 

Had a friend over for breakfast. Kleenex.

This is my holiday party. Kleenex.

The Sufra 
A lot of people here use a covering on their tables (or floors, should they eat on them) called sufra. It’s roll of plastic tablecloth that can be measured out and torn off, then placed on the table to prevent food from getting all over your table.. No one likes to clean little bits of rice and who knows what up after a meal, so the sufra, although I don’t use it, really comes in handy. The other day I was having lunch at a friend’s house and as I picked the chicken off the bones and tossed the bones onto the sufra, I told her isn’t it funny how we do this here but we’d never consider it at home. I mean, imagine you’re at a dinner party and you chuck your bones and other inedible items onto the table beside your plate! That would be your very last dinner party invite. But here, it’s expected. And since the sufra is there, when the meal is over you can just roll it all up and toss it into the trash. Presto! Clean table.

Dish Bowl
I thought it was so strange when I first moved here. I wondered why I kept seeing these dishes of soapy water sitting beside everyone’s kitchen sinks. Why don’t they just fill up the sink with soapy water and put the dishes in? I believe this habit exists because water is a commodity here. We don’t really have endless supplies of it and it is possible to run out. So instead of filling the sink, you fill a little bowl with super soapy water, wash all the dishes, then turn the water on just long enough to rinse them off. I’ve embraced the dish bowl now and I wouldn’t have it any other way!

All of these quirks are left behind when I board a plane out of here. My daughter has a strict bedtime all year round, I’d never expect a friend to kick her husband out, I provide napkins to dinner guests, and I have a dishwasher to waste all sorts of water with.

If you’ve lived in a country other than your own, what are some ways that you’ve adjusted your lifestyle, or some things that you’ve changed? Are there any local habits you’ve picked up upon? Any you’ve taken home with you?

Stop Complaining

Yesterday I shared this picture on my Facebook wall, courtesy of  Purpose Fairy, which is now in my top 3 change-your-life websites I visit on the regular (along with Marc and Angel and Tiny Buddha).

Inspired by a combination of the websites listed above, the book The Secret, and @JihadiJew‘s no kvetch challenge, I’ve been trying this out for a while now. I’m not always successful. After all, I am a woman, and complaining and/or venting does happen now and then, but I’ve succeeded in cutting down about 95% of my complaining. No exaggeration. And most of the remaining 5% goes on inside of my head as a sarcastic commentary on people who annoy me.

In middle school, my sister and I shared a bathroom with a black and white checker tiled floor with a full length mirror, where I spent countless hours as a pre-teen studying my pores and my  constantly changing body. I can remember a note that my mom had hanging there for us, probably because we were dramatic, whiny pre-teen girls. It said “life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” I’m not sure why it took me EIGHTEEN YEARS (I had previously written 28…I am embarrassingly bad at math) to fully grasp the meaning and the profundity of that statement, but it is true, and when you understand and believe it, your life will change almost instantly.

You don’t realize how much time and energy you waste on complaining until you stop doing it. Complaining is nothing more than arguing with reality. While it may be true that it is hotter than hell in Saudi Arabia, or still snowing in April in the States, or that your husband is an unappreciative jerkface, or that your friend canceled plans with you to make plans with cooler friends. But when is the last time that complaining about any of those things actually changed the reality of them?

At best, complaining has helped you not to murder people in a fit of rage, but still. After your rage fueled vent session on the phone with a friend about how you are going to kill the maid/driver/husband (<—most common KSA housewife conversations revolve around one of those things), did the maid/driver/husband quit being an idiot? No. Reality is still the same and nothing has changed except your blood pressure.

Complaining doesn’t change anything except your mood. Trust me, I know. I live in what is possibly the most frustrating place on earth. I am surrounded by people who are racist, closed minded, and backwards in countless ways. I live with a man who, when I used to let him, would have me irritated to the point of tears daily. I’m far away from my family. I have zero dollars to my name. I have very little freedom of movement. But guess what? I’m the happiest I can remember being at any point in my life, because I stopped complaining about all of those things listed above. I stopped focusing on what I don’t like and started being thankful for all of the wonderful things in my life.

And I’ve gone a step further than just not complaining. I’ve stopped listening to others complain. This doesn’t mean I don’t absolutely LOVE the daily morning dish sessions with one of my favorite Desperate Housewives and it doesn’t mean that I don’t indulge in needless gossip and complaining with my friends now and then. But it does mean that when a friend or a group of friends complains constantly over things that they are not trying to or willing to change, I stay out of it. Maybe that sounds like bad friend behavior, but it’s not. I wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors by feeding the flames. I’ll offer advice on how to handle something or tips on how to change it, but I’ll not participate in endless bitching just for the sake of bitching. I thank GF and The Consultant for that skill. They’ve used it countless times on me, and it works.

Anyhow, Readers, if you change your attitude about life, your life will change. You have a choice every single day, no matter what is going on around you or what is happening to you, to be happy and feel amazing. It’s not a mystery. The only key to your happiness is located right between your ears, and you’re the only one with access to that key. So use it.

I challenge you to a day of no complaining. And when you finish with that day, do another. Then make it a habit. Then pass it on to your friends. Then shoot me an email and let me know how it goes.

On Being Broken

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. That’s an idiom we’ve probably all heard and used several times in our lives, usually in response to less than ideal relationships. Occasionally we’ve heard it from our husbands in regards to the drippy faucet or jammed window he hasn’t got around to fixing yet. And although we might not think of this phrase as applying to ourselves, it does. We apply it almost constantly by pretending everything is/will be alright.

No matter how many times we ourselves say that phrase, humans have an innate desire to improve things, to make life easier, to see things more clearly. And usually we have to do a little breaking before we can get to the fixing.

Just like rules, our relationships, ideals, dreams, and our worlds are sometimes meant to be broken. And although the breaking sometimes hurts like hell, the end product–YOU–is always worth the pain endured. In my own experience, being broken is what has led to most of my personal growth.

As a kid I loved to take things apart, see how they work, take a look at what was going on inside, and then put them back together. I would feel like I knew  secret, like I had an inside look at how things work. I enjoyed the feeling that I was seeing what the consumer was not really intended to see. As an adult I deconstruct myself almost constantly.

Society teaches us that we’re not supposed to look at the insides of ourselves or others. We’re supposed to look at the shiny packaging of people and their lives and we’re supposed to present the same to others. We lie daily about our wonderful marriage, our perfect job, our intelligent, well-behaved children, and our ability to cope with everything life throws our way. We’re not meant to let others in, to let them see our nuts and bolts or our imperfections. We don’t need others to see us or to fix us. Hell, we’re not even supposed to try to fix ourselves. That’s what therapists and mood stabilizing drugs are for.

There’s a point I’m coming to, I promise. 

The most common comments/emails that I receive from readers usually include something like “You’re so strong and so brave” or “I don’t know how you do it” and I want those of you who believe these things about me to also believe them about yourselves. YOU are strong, brave, and courageous. YOU have what it takes to overcome whatever life throws at you. YOU can make it through any difficulty. You just have to be willing to let yourself break open.

Shame is such a huge concept here in the Middle East that I often wonder if anyone is really real at all. People are ashamed of themselves, of their families, of their bodies, of their  beliefs and desires; there’s practically no end to the things one could or should feel shame over. And the fear of shame is not only huge here, it’s prevalent all over the world. We’re all afraid of people finding us out–who we really are and what we really think.

I’m encouraging you to not buy into that garbage. Be open, be vulnerable, be willing to share yourself with others, be honest with yourself about who you are and what you find when you look inside. Do these things constantly until it becomes second nature and who you are inside matches who you present to the outside.

Opening up and stripping away the facade that life is grand and I’ve got it all together all the time has allowed me to take a cold, hard look at my broken self and decide which pieces I want to put back together and where exactly I want to put them.

It’s not always easy to admit certain things about myself, especially publicly, but over time I’ve learned to be comfortable with vulnerability and to do away with the shame we’re supposed to feel about being human. Despite all of the circumstances that are not necessarily in my favor in my life, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been because I’ve become comfortable with who I am. And I owe it to my broken times.

The Anti-feminist Soldier

Happy Easter, Readers! Well, to those of you who celebrate at least.

As my gift to you, I am sharing a gem of a comment that I discovered it in my spam folder, likely because of the length of the text and the over use of CAPS LOCK throughout.

The message is from a man named John Rambo who refers to himself as an Anti-feminist Soldier (yes, he capitalized it) who is on a mission to boycott American women. It seems he’s been burned a time or two…I do feel bad for the guy.

At first I thought it was just a muddled mess of words like most of my spam comments are, but looking at it I realized that  a human had put thought and effort into it. And I also noticed there was a blog address attached.  Yes, this man is so passionate about the dangers posed by American women that he has not only taken the time to send me his manifesto, but has dedicated 3 years to writing a blog about it. I checked the blog, and I was one of two recent visitors, so I thought I’d help John get his message out about my evil countrywomen.

Please note, this was not a private email, but an attempt to post a public comment on my public blog.

Here we go…

BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN
Why American men should not marry American women

http://boycottamericanwomen.blogspot.com/

I am an American man, and I have decided to never marry an American woman. In a nutshell, American women are the most likely to cheat on you, to divorce you, to get fat, to steal half of your money in the divorce courts, don’t know how to cook or clean, don’t want to have children, etc. Therefore, what intelligent man would want to get involved with American women?

American women are generally immature, selfish, extremely arrogant and self-centered, mentally unstable, irresponsible, and highly unchaste. The behavior of most American women is utterly disgusting, to say the least.

I encourage ALL American men to NEVER MARRY American women, and date/marry only foreign (non-American) women.

Tens of millions of American men have had their lives completely destroyed by American women through the following crimes:

1. False rape accusations (it has been proven that up to 80 percent of rape accusations are FALSE)

2. False domestic violence (DV) charges (same as above, and up to 40 percent of domestic violence victims are MALE, with their female partners INITIATING the violence)

3. False sexual harassment charges

4. Financial destruction of men in divorce courts through alimony and support payments (women get up to 95 percent of their ex-husband’s income and savings, as well as the house, car, etc)

5. Emotional destruction of men by ex-wives who have stolen their children from them and forbidden the fathers from having custody or contact with their own children

6. Divorced dads who commit suicide as a result

Not one single American woman has EVER condemned their fellow American women for committing these crimes against men. Silence means consent. Therefore, American women support and enjoy destroying men’s lives and causing men to commit suicide. Apparently, American women think it is okay to be a criminal, just as long as you are a woman. Therefore, is it any surprise that a huge percent of American men no longer want anything to do with American women, other than using them for easy sex and then throwing them away?

The women always say “Well, not all women are like that”. Okay, if that is true, then why are there no American women who are speaking out against feminism? Sorry, but YOU ARE ALL EXACTLY LIKE THAT! I personally have asked over 2,000 American women during the past year to help me speak out against feminism. Only two agreed to help me. So, the other 99.9 percent of women support feminism and feminism’s crimes against men either directly or indirectly through their silence. So whenever a woman says “Not all women are like that”, they are LYING. THEY ARE ALL EXACTLY LIKE THAT!!! And if they are not all like that? Then why don’t they speak out against feminism and the crimes that their fellow women commit against men?

American women hate men so much that they do not even care if you commit suicide. In America, 25,000 men kill themselves every year, many of them due to the abuse they have received from their ex-wives and through the divoce courts. Do the women speak out against feminism even then? No. They could care less if men kill themselves. Even if their OWN SONS kill themselves due to the abuse they have received from their ex-wives or through the divorce/custody courts, EVEN THEN THE WOMEN WILL STILL NOT SPEAK OUT. To all the men reading this- your own mothers do not care if you kill yourself. If you are abused by your ex-wife in divorce and have your children kidnapped from you by your ex-wife, and as a result you become emotionally depressed and end up committing suicide? Guess what? NO WOMEN WILL GIVE A DAMN! EVEN YOUR OWN MOTHERS WILL NOT SPEAK OUT AGAINST FEMINISM. So, indeed, ALL WOMEN ARE LIKE THAT. Do not listen to the lies of the women when they claim “There are some good women out there, we are not all like that”. Okay, if there are some “good women” out there, then why aren’t they speaking out against feminism and women who commit crimes against men?

And when I speak about this very serious subject about men who have their children kidnapped and denied custody or contact by their ex-wives and who commit suicide as a result of being thus emotionally devasted? You know what the most common reaction from women is? THEY LAUGH ABOUT IT. THAT IS CORRECT. WOMEN WILL LAUGH AT YOU IF YOU COMMIT SUICIDE. THAT IS HOW EVIL AND MONSTROUS AMERICAN WOMEN HAVE BECOME! American women truly are the most evil people on this earth.

Another reason to never marry or have children with an American woman: 60 percent of child abuse/molestation in America is done by WOMEN to children, according to US Government statistics. Therefore, the majority of child abuse/molestation in America is done by WOMEN. Also, did you know that 1 out of 4 women in America take psychiatric drugs for mental disorders? Yes, AMERICAN WOMEN ARE INSANE! Oh, and just one more interesting fact- 70 percent of criminals in America were raised by single mothers. Single mothers produce future criminals. Criminals destroy society. Thus, feminism destroys society.

When confronted with this evidence, American women will deny any responsibility for their own criminal actions and behaviors, and will attack the man who is presenting these facts and evidences. This is proof that American women are a bunch of liars, hypocrites, and criminals. They REFUSE to accept the FACT that they have destroyed tens of millions of men’s lives and ruined the lives of millions of children as well. It is because American women have become sociopathic man-haters. Far from being “equal” to men, American women can’t even take responsibility for their own actions, which is the trait of any normal adult. Thus, American women are just a bunch of spoiled little children. They are NOT equal to men. American women REFUSE to accept the truth of how evil and vile they have become. American women are living in their own pathetic little fantasy world, where they think they are a perfect little princess. Sorry, but you are NOT a perfect little princess. In fact, you American women are the most hideous, disgusting, monstrous creatures on the face of the earth.

Remember, 90 percent of divorces are initiated by women, mostly against the will of their husbands. If you marry an American woman, there is a 90 percent chance that SHE will be the one that DIVORCES YOU, and will then proceed to financially destroy you in the divorce courts, demanding large payments of alimony and child support. Even worse, she will also kidnap your own children from you against your will and then deny you custody or even contact with your own children. That’s right, there is a very good chance that you won’t even be able to see your own children anymore, once your WIFE files the divorce. So marrying an American woman is not only extremely stupid, but very dangerous. If you want to get married, find a nice foreign girl from Asia, or South America, or Russia/Eastern Europe. DO NOT MARRY AN AMERICAN WOMAN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!

Another thing I noticed, is that whenever you bring up the topic of American men marrying asian women in front of an American woman, she will make some racist and hateful comment about asian women, calling them “slaves” or “mail order brides”. My question is this: If American women are so “independent”, “confident”, “strong”, and “empowered” like they claim to be, why do they feel threatened by Asian women? Why are American women so jealous towards Asian women? The real reason is this- Asian women are 1000 times superior to American women, and any American man who has dated/married an Asian woman will tell you this.

Over 50 percent of American women are single, without a boyfriend or husband; so the fact is most American men no longer want to marry American women. Let these worthless American women grow old living alone with their 10 cats.

NEVER MARRY AN AMERICAN WOMAN! BOYCOTT AMERICAN WOMEN!

Sincerely,
John Rambo, Anti-feminist Soldier
John.Rambo@crimesagainstfathers.com