It started on January 25 and hasn’t ended yet: the revolution that was 30 years in the making –the popular uprising of millions, young/old, male/female, in Egypt. What the peaceful protesters in Tahrir – Liberation – square want is the remove of the 82 year old dictator Hosni Mubarak. Implicit in his stepping down is the conclusion that his son, Gamal, will not be immediately ushered into office, or indeed ever hold an official position in the Egyptian government. It is the end of an era — of U.S. backed foreign interests in the Middle East, of a population so downtrodden many described them as “lazy”, of life long dictators siphoning national funds to finance their vacation homes abroad.

Living in Qatar brings me geographically closer to the eleven day old uprising than my home base on the East coast of the U.S. Working for a Middle Eastern company and with a largely Arab staff (three people from Egypt) brings it directly into daily conversation about the well being of loved ones, fact versus rumor, waiting and hoping, hoping and waiting that “he” (aka Mubarak) will leave.

Add to this the larger circle of friends and colleagues at surrounding universities with ties to Egypt, mix in the excellent 24 hour coverage by Al Jazeera English on TV, the radio, via Twitter, and bake in the heat of friends posting status updates live from Egypt and you have a region more or less glued to the breaking-news ticker.

Against the backdrop of this history-making bravery, people I know personally are writing in international newspapers like The Guardian about being teargassed while trying to protest peacefully. Against this milieu of people saying what they mean, standing for what they believe, and in general living while they are alive, my petty irritations and conflicts seem so small.

In the midst of  international tumult and the constant broadcasts of pent up desire for freedom, it’s not entirely surprisingly that this week, after a long self-enforced silence, I broke and said what I was really thinking.

What I actually said may not be that important ( this isn’t like saying don’t think about elephants) but rather the way that I came to say it.

I had enough with the lack of respectful practices, disorder and chaos a particular set of people kept bringing into my life.

Since July I thought of ways to get out of being tied to them: over maternity leave, I was hoping we’d grow apart.

And as we started sleeping regularly again, I realized nothing had changed – though I had a seismic shift in my own life with the introduction of our new baby. With said baby, an odd thing happened. Instead of making me the crazy person everyone warned me of, the baby actually brought stability. Suddenly I wasn’t checking email all day and most of the night; I was home for meals instead of wandering from event to event. His presence called me home>

But more than being around. He gave me a reason to live a better life. I wanted to be more for him – happy, present, living up to my ideals.

Yet the difficult group relationship continued, with them walking through personal boundaries and in general wrecking havoc in a way that kept me fighting to stay positive and upbeat.

A long Christmas vacation during which I contemplated how to end this increasingly negative interaction. Returning from a long holiday — was difficult but I was much stronger than I thought. I was able to minimize the ever present irritations better than before. Though things were not perfect, I convinced myself to make the best of it, holding the baby close, and real friends closer – the rest receded a bit.

In the background though, like piano keys stuck together, a discordant note kept plunking.

They weren’t going to change. And my ability to ignore them was wearing thin as their discord further intruded into my resolution to live a life worth living while alive.

Last weekend the world couldn’t look away, and I was no different, watching mouth agape as pro-government thugs storm into the square astride horses and even on the backs of camels, beating those they came across with whips. It brought back childhood memories of students standing in front of tanks in another T-named square, Tienanmen. Unlike the Chinese, the pro-Mubarak supporters, paid thugs or undercover police, didn’t have the honesty to wear their uniforms into the square but came in dressed like everyone else to dilute the reputation of the peaceful protesters.

Like the Egyptians over the years, I had grumbled and complained about this group crowding my happy days and happiness. But I wasn’t ready for action. I wanted change but I didn’t know if I could deal with the discomfort. Was it easier for things to stay as they were? Could I weather the storm that this major shift would bring in my life, the life of my family?

In the middle of this week I, alongside  the example of millions of Egyptians who had finally tired of dictatorship above all else, had enough. We were ready to pay the price, come what may of having our say and reaching for impossible dreams. That of self-sovereignty.

I finally said what I had to say. Without emotion or drama or shouting. In a clear, unshakable voice, I spoke what had been on my mind for several months.

As the flags wave in Tharir square, we don’t know what will happen. And without this toxic group in my life, I’m not sure what will come next.

But the sight of Christians protecting Muslims gives me hope that Egypt won’t be overrun by the islamists as everyone is saying. Rather, unlike Iran or Iraq, Egypt will rise out of this revolution strengthened and renewed for the first time in three decades. This may sound idealistic, and no one is saying it won’t be messy. If you haven’t already seen the images of protesters with blood soaked handkerchiefs, then you don’t know the lengths people are willing to go to have their say.

The people of Tunisia and Egypt and have inspired me and even youth all over the Middle East region.

We can all create a life that we want, rather than the script the West (read: those who thought they were in charge of us) write. We don’t have to be puppets of anyone. It won’t be easy. In fact, it will be the hardest thing we’ve done.

But we know what life under dictatorships is like. The promise of freedom is too compelling to turn away any longer. Live the best life you can. After all, you know what the other option is like.

In what areas do you need to have a personal revolution? And from what parts of current or past history can you garner strength?

I’m at the Frankfurt Book Fair this week; the World Cup, Super Bowl, World Series of all book fairs. The scene at book fairs would surprise most readers because it does not involved authors or readers but rather agents, publishers, and distributors. There are stalls in the tradition of all vendor gatherings where companies display their brightest wares. Whether the Cairo, Abu Dhabi, or Frankfurt book fair, there are deals being made by the back offices of the publishing industry from rights sales of books into various languages and markets as well as bookstores agreeing to take on specific numbers of copies of various titles.

Being in Germany is always interesting and this trip is no different because there is always a small shadow that falls across a conversation that includes references to the Second World War, Hitler, the death camps, or any combination of the above. In my current job I only have two German speaking colleagues but also many people with ties to Germany living in Qatar. I know this generation feels no personal guilt over deeds done long before they were born; movies/books such as THE READER are examples of the disgust and horror the younger generations feel about what happened.

I was as surprised as anyone last night at dinner when a reference came up to a Nazi run labor camp that I suddenly felt a similar twinge of guilt. Not for Germany’s misdeeds but America’s in Iraq and Afghanistan. The last near decade of America pursued conflict has left me cringing anytime anyone mentions recent presidencies as well as shrinking away from questions about why Barack Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace prize.

I am fully aware of the depth of the next sentence but will write it anyway: in the last few years it has been embarrassing to be American. If you’ve been to a comedy night at the Ramada in Doha you’ll hear comedians call out everyone in the room by nationality. When it’s the Americans turn things are uncharacteristically silent. There’s always a joke about this and a lot of ducked chins and sheepish grins around this time. I’m suggesting for a moment that two Iraq wars and incursions in Afghanistan equal anything near the death machine of the Third Reich; the comparison is not to scale but rather as symbolic. At the very least, as in recent observation, the result is the same conversation stopper for the person of that nationality during a discussion.

The good news is that regardless of the Nobel committee’s motivation – leftist conspiracy to under Obama or international prodding to hold true to promises – it is easier to lift my head in the world as an American now than It was in 2005 when I moved to the Middle East.

But our sins are not erased, they are just diminished.  I do pray for wisdom for the man who might be the most scrutinized individual in the world. He has become president at the lowest moment in American history. But already he is demeanor, passion, and character give me much to be proud of.

Traveling in London I’ve found a sure fire technique for never getting lost. Ask a street cleaner for directions. They are everywhere, have fantastic maps, and also know the city better than most.

My coworker last night shared that this piece of advice is true not only for the complicated rabbit warren alleys of England but also Cairo.

"My mother told me to always ask a cleaner," she said smiling as we waited for our other friend who was asking a cleaning gentleman for directions to the nearest outlet of our desired restaurant.

I began wondering if this was the sign of what is really at the heart of a society: the willingness to acknowledge and attribute knowledge across all segments of society. Was it because we were all non-UK nationals, able to see outside the class conscious society of the UK? Or was it because of our generation – we were a mix between Xers and Mellenials – so even any UK twenty or thirtysomething would feel comfortable doing the same? Dare I raise the specter of gender: was it because we were three women that we stopped for directions?

Whatever the case, we did stop for directions, each of us comfortably perched near the edge of upper middle classhood and thanked the gentleman for his help.

Perhaps this is the sign of an eglaitarian mindset on which a society could be built.

Perhaps having a voice, even to give directions, is tied to having a large social presences, like having your voice count?

Hopefully the Iranian people who have been patient are rewarded for their efforts.

If you’ve seen the email forward of the guy on the bike, riding through traffic, on the back of his t shirt is the slogan "It’s called a white house for a reason" then you know some of the fallout from the election results.

People are justifiably upset by this slogan and it’s racist underpinnings.

I think the statement needs more credit. The slogan is true because the mentality behind it has held true. It has been a white house for 43 presidencies. And people have been used to thinking of it as a white man’s job.

Guess what? 

No longer!

Yes, it’s come to that. I’ve found a topic to write about that is interesting to me but potentially harmful to some of my friendships or the image people have of me. It’s a subject that some of you might agree with and others feel alienated. For the first time in my brief year as a blogger, I am contemplating self censorship.

So I ask you, reader, what shall we do? Should we get into it? Or should we keep our focus on the election.

While I await your response, a few thoughts on the last 18 days of this ‘race’.

I read an article a while ago, when Hillary was still heavy into the primary run off, that said, "Yes, marriage is hard, but not that marriage [again]" in the White House. The author presented, very effectively, that while every marriage has issues, it seemed many people had objections to the Clintons because of their well known ones. I thought the author was fair to Bill and Hillary and pointed out that in our flaws, we share what is most human.

Here’s my thought in the same vein:

Yes, a woman VP would be exciting. But this woman? Really?

(Shall we or won’t we get into the nitty gritty of my issue above? I wait to hear from you!)

I went to a debate in here Doha last night, with people who represented both parties, Republican and Democrat. What struck me as I listened was how much was not being said. The Republican representative kept talking about John McCain as the ‘acceptable’ candidate. Now what, in the world, does that mean?

I did ask a question during the Q and A (about why the Republican party likes to apply mud slinging rhetoric to others and ignore their own mud) but not the one I’m contemplating this morning.

Regardless of who wins, what happens next? Will we just go back to pretending the content of a man’s character was not the subject of pre-election days, but rather the color of his middle name? All uncomfortable racial and gender politics that have been uncovered in this long campaign – will they just be swept under the rug and business as usual?

Forget about reaching across party lines for a moment. Who is going to breach the racial divisions?
Let’s hope for our sake it’s whomever is elected president.

Believe it or not, the title of this piece is an actual quote of a woman during a recent NPR story when questioned about her leanings for the 08 vote. This gem came out while she denied that she was "racist or whatever you want to call it." Clearly, as you’ll see in a moment, she couldn’t use the infamous refrain, "some of my best friends are…." because she doesn’t know any. We can assume the last black person she knew was someone she went to high school with. Scary but true of the racial divide in modern society.

Later on in the interview this woman mentioned she  is opposed to John McCain but may not cast a vote in this election because "until he [Obama] was nominated for president, I didn’t really think about it [having a black president]. She’s worried that he [Obama] "would only think about his people".

Revealing, shocking, honest, scary commentary from your average American citizen.

Are the majority scared? Do they sniff change in the air?

The world holds its breath…

Is being attractive or likeable more important than being smart? 

Watching the US "veep" debates and the hours of analysis later, you might think so.  Apparently designer clothes, winks, kisses, and ‘shoutouts’ are what it takes to win the nation’s hearts and minds these days.

I’m tempted to wash my hands of the whole thing and say that they deserve what they get. But I (although with my campaign addicted husband) can’t look away from the TV. It’s like watching a train wreck or the reason why there is so much rubbernecking on the freeway. Bad news makes you stop, stare, and slow everyone else down.

Sure, I like perkiness. I like audacious claims. I even will use slang during important business meetings to show that I haven’t lost my connection to my ‘block.’ But lately I’m realizing how fallible these tenants of being ‘down to earth’ are. Sometimes it’s okay to be smart. It’s fine to use big words that I learned during graduate school.

Let me make this clear: we all want to see women advance in all fields, all over the world. But not just because they are women. I rejoice when people of color do well. But not just because they are people of color. What happened to liking someone because he or she was competent? Or, dare I say it, the best candidate for the job?

Psychology has proven that there is a ‘halo’ effect. That attractive people get more from life and from those around them. We are friendlier to those we consider attractive, give them more leeway, allow them more time.

Hopefully the American people are aware of this bias for the surface charm and will chose, not based on looks, or likeability, race or even gender, but on rationale, reasonable facts. Only 31 more nail biting days to go to see which wins out.

There are rules for polite society – don’t talk about religion, politics, or sex – that lately I have been violating. The primary one being that you don’t talk politics during parties, social gatherings, Monday night football, or lunch at Korean bar-b-que

restaurants.

Yet during our current trip to the US, my husband and I seem to be the only people in our age group not frightened by the supposed eminent threats of higher taxes, more welfare, and the United States being

annihilated by unknown threats.

The fact is, we are both independents, in the much talked about ‘free votes’ group that both parties are scrambling for.  But we are not undecided in this election, 47 days before the big day.

The facts are simple, and yet shockingly missing from the knowledge of the average person in our age group:

America’s number one issue is not ‘security’; a vice presidential candidate who can’t address the doctrine of her own party’s sitting president may not be the ideal number two seat in the country; the great white leader can not continue as a paradigm for a country filled with millions of minorities.

There are a million other issues to chose from to have the headline: the economy, our reputation in the world, cuts in education, millions without health care etc. etc.

Please – get informed on the issues! And vote. This will be the closest election ever (including the much famed disputed one of recent years) and I am very afraid for the future of my adopted country.