Loading ...Nazareth Women's Magazine Editor Is Shaping Public Opinion
In an interview with Shlomi Eldar, Yara Mashour, editor of the Arabic-language magazine Lilac, describes herself as a liberated woman who is not afraid of shattering conventions, both in Arab and Israeli society.
BY Shlomi Eldar
Al-Monitor
“There was practically nothing here four years ago,” says Yara Mashour, editor of the women’s magazine Lilac (part of the Sinara group), while glancing proudly at Nazareth’s growing promenade. “If we ever wanted to go out, we’d have to go to Haifa or Tel Aviv. These days we don’t have to go quite so far.” That was probably why she decided to hold the interview at the Sabah wa-Masa restaurant, on the promenade that she says changed the city.
We sat outside, in a brightly lit area, at a table overlooking a small church. The raspy voice of Amy Winehouse in the background was a nice complement to the sacred atmosphere that Nazareth always seems to exude.
Yara smiled and immediately launched her attack. “So, tell me,” she began. “Why don’t Jews come here? Do they really think the Arabs will attack them? That’s too funny.”
“That’s just how it is,” I try to explain. “Arabs are afraid of Jews, and Jews are afraid of Arabs. It’s the fear of the ‘Other.’”
“It’s mostly the Jews. They really don’t know anything about Arab society, and the changes taking place within it.”
“That’s why I really wanted to meet you. You’re one of the women who shape public opinion in the Arab sector, maybe even the most important woman.”
“What do you even know about the Arab sector?”
“Why do you think I don’t know anything about it?”
“You people see us a certain way and don’t want to change that. What you know now is the same thing you knew about ‘the Arabs’ twenty years ago. You don’t want to change. You find it much more convenient for things to stay the same.”
Then Yara continued: “I always say that my father would have never accepted being treated the same way as my grandfather. Well, I’m not willing to accept the way my father was treated, and I know that the next generation will be furious about what I do accept.”
What exactly do you mean?
“We’re fed up with constantly hearing: ‘What’s the matter? Don’t you have it good here? Do you think you’d have it better in Syria or Lebanon?’ It’s as if we’re not a part of everything that’s going on here.”
As first course we had tabouleh and a sour rocket salad with plenty of lemon. I ordered a beer on tap. So did Yara, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“I went to school in the US and England. My father decided, and rightly so, that Arabs who get accepted to Israeli universities spend all their time on the political struggle, so they have no time to study. Instead of participating in the struggle, he wanted my sister, Waria, and me to actually learn something. We picked the US and went to Belmont Abbey College in North Carolina, because my aunt lives there. My sister was sixteen, and I was eighteen. Think about it. We made the transition from Nazareth to North Carolina. But the real culture shock came when we went to England to study for our M.A.’s. We both studied political thought at the London School of Economics, and they actually did teach us how to think. Yes, to think, and not just to memorize. That’s the big difference.”
The girls’ father, Lutfi Mashour, died of cancer seven years ago. Lutfi was the founder of as-Sinara (“The Fishing Rod”), the first independent Arabic-language newspaper to be published in Israel. Launched in 1983, this weekly paper set a new precedent for the Israeli-Arab press: It had no political affiliation. Mashour established its guiding principle, which still holds true today. The paper was, and is, anti-establishment. First and foremost, it criticizes the political establishment in Israel, but it doesn’t stop there. It is also critical of the Arab parties in the Knesset, and the politicians who are supposed to represent the Arab-Israeli sector. To do this, as-Sinara developed a new journalistic style, which has since become a model for emulation. One of the many spaces where its critique is voiced is in the new sections of the paper documenting day-to-day life in the community, along with gossip and crime in Arab-Israeli society. None of these received any attention in the sector’s traditional newspapers.
People were quick to write the paper’s obituary as soon as Lutfi Mashour died. It was his life’s work, imbued with his spirit, his soul, and most of all, his vision, and that could be felt in every word he published. But the skeptics were soon proved wrong. The media empire that he built was taken over by the three women in his life. His wife, Wida Mashour, was appointed senior editor, Yara became editor of Lilac, and her sister, Waria, took over the advertising agency, which is the lifeblood of the as-Sinara empire.
“No one ever considered shutting down the paper,” Yara is quick to emphasize. “It was a life work, a legacy, an idea. It was an important to promote the interests of our sector. We knew that despite all the sorrow and pain that came with my father’s death, we could manage the newspaper ourselves. He had spent his entire life preparing us to do that.” And in fact, under these three women, as-Sinara became the most widely read newspaper in the Arab sector, with an enormous impact on the community’s agenda.
As editor of the magazine Lilac, Yara not only continues the liberal line that her father left behind. She actually takes it further, and a lot further at that. Under her stewardship, the magazine has become a bone of contention in the Arab sector, because of how provocative it is. She recently brought the wrath, not only of the Arab sector, but also of the Arab world, down upon herself when Lilac’s cover photo featured the Arab model Huda Nakash, winner of the Miss Earth pageant. It didn’t just feature her. It featured her in a bikini.
Not only did you start the Arab beauty queen pageant. You also put a picture of a model in a bikini on the cover.
”I managed to win international attention for an Arab girl, who spent three years modeling on the sidelines. It was really revolutionary. We had an Arab representing the country in a bikini, and she appeared on the cover of an Arab magazine. Obviously, I was worried about how people would accept that. We’re talking about a woman’s life here.”
How did you get into that?
“We had a series of photo shoots, some of them in swimsuits. The results were incredible, so we said to ourselves, ‘Let’s think about it. Can we use it for a cover shot?’ It was obvious that it would get international attention. The model, Huda Nakash, spoke to her parents, and they agreed. There were other Arab girls who were photographed in bikinis before that, but none of the pictures appeared in the Arab press, not even in Lebanon. Nowhere.”
And how was it received?
“The amazing thing about the whole story is that the Arab sector took it in a civilized, democratic way. About 40 percent of the community agreed with us. Another 60 percent did not, but even they had no choice but to deal with it. People sometimes ask me, ‘So, is she still alive?’ I tell them, ‘Sorry, but not only is she alive. She has even become a celebrity. People all over the world want her to model for them now. No one ever threatened her about the photograph.”
Yara admits that her magazine also got considerable attention because of that photo. An article about it, which appeared on Al Arabiya’s website, got no less than 70,000 responses, most of them critical, in just a few hours. “Some people claimed it was a ‘Zionist plot,’ and that the girl wasn’t even an Arab. Some people asked cynically if that’s what the Palestinian revolution looks like.”
The Israeli media didn’t miss it either. This is how it was described on the Mako website:
“Forget about all the demonstrations in the streets, the revolutions, and the UN’s declarations. This week we received real evidence that significant change is under way in the Arab world from a tiny little office right here in Israel, which publishes the Arab-language weekly Lilac. Huda Nakash, a 22-year-old model and an Arab-Israeli, was selected to be the first woman to shatter one of the biggest social taboos in the Muslim world.”
For our main course we had entrecote with a tangy sauce and a seafood combination plate.
Yara considers herself an Israeli in every conceivable way. She even takes pride in the fact that the model she selected to feature on the cover of her magazine went on to represent Israel with honor throughout the world. Nevertheless, some people still insist on reminding her of her “natural place in the pecking order.” She can barely hide how insulted she was, when she tells me the following story:
“It happened last February at the airport in Milan. Huda Nakash and I were about to board an El Al flight on our way home. Just before we got on the plane, they started interrogating us, and the way they did it made no sense at all. It was inhuman of them, and absolutely unacceptable. We were tortured by the security staff for an hour and a half. They asked us ridiculous questions, like, ‘What did you eat: spaghetti Bolognese or with a cream sauce?’ I finally told them that there was no way I would answer another question. The security officer then told me that if that was the case, I would not be allowed to board the plane, so I told him that I’ll pass on the flight. That’s how we got stuck in Milan. It was 11 p.m. and we had no flight home. But I knew that I couldn’t go on like that.”
“It took twenty-four hours for me to get home, and when I did, I contacted [former Knesset member] Yossi Sarid. He wrote about it in the Haaretz newspaper, and they made a big deal out of it. You’d never believe how many people, Arabs and Jews, called me about it. Suddenly, I was a hero.”
You know what, Yara? When I look at you, I see a Christian, a feminist, and a career woman. It’s certainly different. You don’t fit the image of the typical Arab.
I knew that I was taking a risk, but I asked the question anyway. As I expected, Yara was insulted. “Don’t call me a Christian. My religion isn’t important. I’m an Arab. I have Muslim friends. There’s no difference between us. Take yourself, for example. You may well have more in common with a secular Arab woman than a religious, ultra-Orthodox Jew. It’s a waste of time to bring religion into the mix, because it’s wrong. It’s too bad we’re even taking it in that direction.”
I started stuttering out an embarrassed response, but Yara kept going. “As for feminism, there are plenty of Arab-Israeli feminists. At one point I didn’t even like that term. I just want you to know that there are plenty of incredible Arab women who get married late because they realize that they have to go to school and become economically independent. Only then should they consider getting married.”
We ended our meal at Sabah wa-Masa with some halva for dessert.
It was only to be expected now that she would surprise me with a question of her own. “Now it’s my turn to ask you something. We, and by that I mean the Arab sector, are constantly trying to integrate into Israeli society, but to no avail. You know us better than others, Shlomi. Maybe you can tell me what we’re doing wrong.”
For one brief moment, I was left speechless. A moment later I came up with the answer: “It’s not you. It’s us.”
Source: www.al-monitor.com