Nadine, as per usual, writes a compelling piece about Jordanian women in Amman’s Spoken Word scene.
Its further proof of Jordan’s confusing identity; the reality of so many different types of people and lifestyles darting across this region that make it impossible to speak about Jordan – the Middle East – or Arabs in any sweeping generalizations.
As tonight’s poetry reading draws to a close, Aysha speaks her own manifesto of youth. The emotion is raw, but no one looks away as her piece crescendos.
“It was my friends who hugged their canvases and wept for brothers killed in the doom of Arab revolution, and guilted over the fire exit of their breath,” she raps, her words echo within the narrow walls.
“But I still have my dictators falling, as the Arab Spring fireworks into a festive autumn. So for all I care me and my friends are the sunrise.”
Read all here —> Jordan’s Underground Female Slam Poetry Scene
Julie in Jordan! 