You whore.

Words that punch into my gut, and cut like a knife. However, rarely has anyone stepped up enough to verbalize that – instead they simply assume, and treat me like one. Cringing deep inside, my first instinct is to fight back – to retaliate – and then, to want to cry.

Yesterday my roomie Chrystal and I went to look at a dorm we’d been hoping to move into this weekend. It was our third visit to the place, and with the help of a Jordanian friend of ours, we were hoping to make the final  negotiations.

Since we brought a guy with us, we were immediately set aside from the discussion and took a back seat to let them negotiate. After about twenty five minutes a girl, her brother, and her mom walked into the place to take a look at her room which was across the hall from us.

Immediately the atmosphere became hostile as the mom looked us up and down. Without ever having spoken to us, she assumed we were “that type of girl” simply because we were foreigners. Becoming nearly hysterical at the thought of her daughter living with us, she explained that guys and alcohol weren’t allowed in the house. Our friend tried to defend our honor by explaining that we were good people, but it was obvious that she had already made her decision about our character. We were whores.

Only 30 minutes later I was headed to the Biblical Arabic class I attend at a Catholic church in the evenings. Since it was on the way, I rode with my roomie and our friend part of the way until he pulled over to let us catch  taxis. Still upset by the situation that had just unfolded, which ended in us leaving the dorm and refusing the room, I waited in front of my friend’s car on the street waiting to hail the next taxi.

Suddenly a red car slammed on the brakes, and began backing up – coming straight towards me. Feeling confused, I began edging away from the oncoming car. Seeing the man in the driver’s seat motion towards me, I realized his assumption – he thought I was a prostitute.

You might be thinking, “Sheesh..Esther… what were you wearing?”… but I dress extremely modestly every day, and in fact, was wearing long, loose black pants and a big jacket. People in the States file sexual harassment lawsuits for less than I recieve on an almost daily basis.

The man in the car was determined to purchase my time because it took my friend honking his car horn at least five times, and me running over to his car, for the guy to leave. The most upsetting part for me was that he drove off thinking he arrived only a few seconds too late because I’d just been bought.

It disgusts me. It makes my stomach turn at the way women, especially foreign women, are treated. The systematic inequality is staggering. Women are simply not valued as an equal human being. Boys are always given preferential treatment, even inside the home, and so they grow up thinking that females were created for their pleasure, entertainment, and service.

Things are far from perfect in the U.S., especially with the statistical odds of 1 in 4 of being sexually assaulted on a university campus, but at least there is awareness, dialogue and punishments set in place to deter such behaviour.

The mistreatment of women seems to be a cross-cultural link found across the world, only giving me further proof that all humans have endemic flaws.

I don’t wish to misportray women or men in Jordan. Not all men treat women like objects – but many do. This isn’t any different than in the U.S., it just manifests itself in a more direct fashion. Here men will blatantly stare, whistle, make sexual gestures or comments – and while it’s true that men don’t generally do that in the U.S. they are often objectifying women just as often. Maybe it takes place more subtly, such as in their home by watching pornography, but it is nonetheless still very common.

It often feels as if the words woman and whore are synonymous for men here and across the world. This disturbs and frustrates me to no end. It’s always an uphill battle, trying to prove my worth as a person and to dispel all myths about “Western women” - it’s tiring… and to be honest… it’s unfair.

This blog was born more out of frustration than anything. Something I needed to put out to the world… just to tell someone… anyone… it’s NOT OKAY for you to treat me like this.

I’m so thankful and grateful for the One who loves all of us no matter if we have a Y chromosone or not. The stories about reaching out to women who truly were in precarious situations means so much more to me now that I know how it would’ve been for them. The daily humiliation and suffering would’ve been almost unbearable – and then add the weight of their sins on top of that… Yet He went to them in humility and love… removing their weight, and telling them to go in peace and sin no more.

What so many women across the world don’t know is that there IS One who respects them, who admires them, who cherishes and longs to protect them. They don’t realize He too agonizes over their pain and mistreatment, and desperately desires to embrace them and make them whole – from both things they’ve willingly done and things they’ve unwillingly been subjected to by others.

I truly believe that those who’ve been given an opportunity to have a voice in the world MUST use it. We can’t sit idly by, because with every moment we’re silent, we say it’s okay – that it’s okay for women to be objectified, it’s okay for them to be raped/beaten, that it’s okay if they don’t know about Him.

I’m desperate.. there are so many women (and men, and children) who don’t know the truth. They feel hopeless, lost, discouraged. Things can change. Lives, homes, communities change when they’ve experienced Love.

We were given one job: to tell about the greatest Love in the universe.

And we are each given one lifetime to do it.

I try and remember that anytime apathy begins to stifle and threaten to silent my voice.