As the Obama pastor "scandal" has unfurled, and as the senator has effectively rebounded with a speech many pundits are praising as a nomination-clincher, I wondered where the HRC campaign was. Why wouldn't they strike now?
Then I came across this Huffington Post article by Barbara Ehrenreich, which details a secretive group called the "Fellowship," or the "Family." Basically, these folks are crazier about Jesus than even Fox News, and I mean in the most profoundly dangerous way. Ehrenreich refers to a Mother Jones article which is also worth a close read. You can debate as to whether HRC's participation in this group is merely politically strategic, but keep in mind the association goes back for at least 15 years, if not more. Could she possibly have held the same political aspirations that began to surface post-Lewinsky? Doubtful. Read and draw your own conclusions.
In other political notes, Senator McCreepy McCain thinks that Iran, Iraq, Al-Qaeda, Sunnis, and Shiites are all the same thing. What a bright fellow! Who says geriatrics aren't capable of leadership and global understanding?
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
"Desert Scarves," or, The Misappropriation of Culture
As my cohort the Prince of Kabob introduced in a previous post, one subject that has received much of my ire lately is the recent (though not new) trend of wearing the Palestinian keffiyeh, apparently known to Urban Outfitters (among other retailers) and clueless wearers as a "desert scarf," as a casual clothing accessory. My opinion on the matter began as interested, became conflicted, and eventually has evolved into straight-up anger. When I first began to see people wearing the keffiyeh a couple of years ago-- here and there, not very often-- I would think that it was maybe kind of cool, that maybe they were wearing it as a political statement of being down for the Palestinian cause-- but mostly, I wondered why 21st century San Francisco hipsters were interested in dressing like my deceased great-grandfather and his peers, the keffiyeh being first and foremost just a regular old traditional Arab scarf that farmers and other men used to wear (and still do) to protect their heads from the sun and dirt and sand, which has also evolved into a symbol of Palestinian nationalism and culture. I too have worn the keffiyeh, before this "desert scarf" business came about, both as a symbol of my activism and heritage, and as a means of keeping warm.
Within the past couple of years, though, more and more people-- namely those trend-focused persons whose numerous atrocities in the name of "fashion" I will refrain from detailing at the moment-- have been wearing the keffiyeh, to the point at which it has evolved into a simple, mass-produced, completely inauthentic, trendy piece of clothing that has lost its meaning. I have seen it sold, in many ridiculous colors, by Urban Outfitters (as mentioned before), at army surplus stores, and at shops in trendy neighborhoods.
My issues here are severalfold. First, it makes me laugh that people will pay eighteen dollars (!) for this mass-produced item, when the real thing (which is much more attractive, incidentally) costs much less. Second, it irritates me that people are appropriating this piece of Arab culture without having any idea at all what it represents, or what it means to wear this, or caring to find out, or even knowing its origin-- in essence, being very ignorant about what they choose to put on their bodies. I realize that some non-Arab people do wear this while participating in acts of activism or in support of the cause, and I accept this as long as they educate themselves on the keffiyeh and its meaning and do not fetishize it or the Palestinian/Arab people. If you like the scarf and want to wear it, fine-- just know what it's all about.
Perhaps most of all, it angers me that Arab culture is being commodified and sold by a capitalist and colonialist nation which dares to accuse people of terrorism while unapologetically committing horrible acts of terrorism itself (see previous post for an example). Essentially the commodification of the keffiyeh is an act to discredit the Palestinian cause, making it something to take lightly via the mainstream misappropriation of one of its most recognizable images. That a nation's retailers would promote the production and sale of this imitation item while simultaneously condemning those who have worn it and brought it into the public view as an item of both culture and the cause (Leila Khaled, Arafat, the Palestinian people and most Arabs) is outrageous and hypocritical, but, sadly, not surprising. Why not make a few bucks off the people who we work hard to keep ignorant (Americans) and who we work hard to disenfranchise and destroy (Palestinians, Iraqis, etc...)? It is, after all, the American way!
Yes, I do think it carries much different meaning when an Arab-American wears the scarf as opposed to other types of American. I will bet you that 99 percent of the time, when an Arab wears this scarf, this person will know exactly what it means to do so, whether culturally or as a sign of solidarity, or both. I know that this is not the case with most of those who wear the sweatshop-made, mass-produced imitations in such fun colors as pink and yellow. If somebody likes the appearance of the keffiyeh and chooses to wear it, they are free to do so, but in my opinion should at least be aware of the connotations, and if they do not agree with them, or do not care either way, should not wear the keffiyeh. It troubles me to have my heritage and my people's struggles commodified and trivialized in such a way, and that is exactly what is being done, whether the wearer is aware of it or not.
And for the record, it's not called a freaking "desert scarf."
Within the past couple of years, though, more and more people-- namely those trend-focused persons whose numerous atrocities in the name of "fashion" I will refrain from detailing at the moment-- have been wearing the keffiyeh, to the point at which it has evolved into a simple, mass-produced, completely inauthentic, trendy piece of clothing that has lost its meaning. I have seen it sold, in many ridiculous colors, by Urban Outfitters (as mentioned before), at army surplus stores, and at shops in trendy neighborhoods.
My issues here are severalfold. First, it makes me laugh that people will pay eighteen dollars (!) for this mass-produced item, when the real thing (which is much more attractive, incidentally) costs much less. Second, it irritates me that people are appropriating this piece of Arab culture without having any idea at all what it represents, or what it means to wear this, or caring to find out, or even knowing its origin-- in essence, being very ignorant about what they choose to put on their bodies. I realize that some non-Arab people do wear this while participating in acts of activism or in support of the cause, and I accept this as long as they educate themselves on the keffiyeh and its meaning and do not fetishize it or the Palestinian/Arab people. If you like the scarf and want to wear it, fine-- just know what it's all about.
Perhaps most of all, it angers me that Arab culture is being commodified and sold by a capitalist and colonialist nation which dares to accuse people of terrorism while unapologetically committing horrible acts of terrorism itself (see previous post for an example). Essentially the commodification of the keffiyeh is an act to discredit the Palestinian cause, making it something to take lightly via the mainstream misappropriation of one of its most recognizable images. That a nation's retailers would promote the production and sale of this imitation item while simultaneously condemning those who have worn it and brought it into the public view as an item of both culture and the cause (Leila Khaled, Arafat, the Palestinian people and most Arabs) is outrageous and hypocritical, but, sadly, not surprising. Why not make a few bucks off the people who we work hard to keep ignorant (Americans) and who we work hard to disenfranchise and destroy (Palestinians, Iraqis, etc...)? It is, after all, the American way!
Yes, I do think it carries much different meaning when an Arab-American wears the scarf as opposed to other types of American. I will bet you that 99 percent of the time, when an Arab wears this scarf, this person will know exactly what it means to do so, whether culturally or as a sign of solidarity, or both. I know that this is not the case with most of those who wear the sweatshop-made, mass-produced imitations in such fun colors as pink and yellow. If somebody likes the appearance of the keffiyeh and chooses to wear it, they are free to do so, but in my opinion should at least be aware of the connotations, and if they do not agree with them, or do not care either way, should not wear the keffiyeh. It troubles me to have my heritage and my people's struggles commodified and trivialized in such a way, and that is exactly what is being done, whether the wearer is aware of it or not.
And for the record, it's not called a freaking "desert scarf."
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Anniversaries
Today is the 40th anniversary of the My Lai Massacre, during which the US forces in Vietnam slaughtered about 500 Vietnamese villagers. The general American public did not learn of My Lai until November 1969, more than 1.5 years later, when an investigative reporter broke the story.
Later this week comes the 5th anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq. How many My Lais are there in Iraq? You'd have to go far back, looking at the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s, when the Reagan administration generously provided Saddam Hussein with chemical weapons and more, allowing him to further brutalize not only Iran but also the Kurds of his own country. (The New York Times broke this story in August 2002. I encourage you to research and learn more for yourself.) Fast forward a bit to the most recent Iraq war: in September 2007, a reputable independent research firm (ORB of the UK) put the number at 1.2 million dead Iraqis. For your reference, there are currently about 4,000 dead US soldiers.
1.2 million dead is not a massacre. It is not a war. It is a genocide. But the US feels "uncomfortable" with that word. They won't pin it on the Ottoman Empire for trying to eradicate as many Armenians as possible. They certainly won't pin it on themselves despite actively warmongering. They'll hope that because the 1.2 million dead include Arabs and Kurds, you'll assume that one group is definitely a bunch of terrorists and the others probably are too (even though you have no idea who or what Kurds are), and thus you won't get too inquisitive. And they certainly hope you never start asking about any My Lais in Palestine or in Lebanon, because then you'd certainly stop believing everything your government tells you. You'll start doing all sorts of unpredictable things, like figuring out that Barack Obama is not Muslim and didn't take his senatorial oath on a Quran...
Why does this matter to the US? We are, for better or for worse, a democratic republic. We participate in democracy (certain restrictions apply, such as hanging chads and poor voter/ballot access in areas with high concentrations of people of color) and choose our leaders. I do firmly believe if you vote for national leaders who support a particular war, you have Iraqi blood on your hands. (I do also firmly believe Hillary Clinton is included in this hawk category, but that's for another post.)
Why does this matter to me specifically?
Because I have roots in the mysterious "Middle East" - like the other blog operators and much of the readership. Because I am Armenian, an Armenian American fortunate enough to not have immediate family members dead in the early 20th century at the hands of the Young Turks but an Armenian American who feels both grateful to be spared that personal history and absolutely furious that it's continually denied by Turkey and pooh-poohed by the US and the UK.
Because I am also Serbian, the granddaughter of a non-Jewish Holocaust survivor. My paternal grandfather lived in a small village around Zagreb, now in Croatia. As an adolescent, he participated in the local anti-Nazi resistance movements, as a messenger boy. At one point, he was caught, refused to surrender his message to the Nazis, and instead ate it. He was arrested and detained in a concentration camp. After local resistance fighters somehow captured a Nazi general, he was thrown into a prisoner exchange program. Thirty Slavs, one German. When he crawled back to his parents' home, half-dead of tuberculosis, his own mother did not recognize him.
So, another roll of the dice - maybe my grandfather didn't make it in the group of Slavs being exchanged for the Nazi general, maybe my maternal grandmother's family had lived a few miles west on the "wrong" side of the Iran - Turkey border, and I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be free and well-educated and empowered in America. I would quite possibly not be alive. And I am not unique in this situation; this country is teeming with similar narratives, if you would only listen.
I tell these stories to keep this narrative, my family's narrative, alive, as I realize countless other similar narratives will never be spoken of or written publicly. As comfortable as I may be in a "safe haven" city like San Francisco, I cannot and should not get too comfortable. You shouldn't either.
Later this week comes the 5th anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq. How many My Lais are there in Iraq? You'd have to go far back, looking at the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s, when the Reagan administration generously provided Saddam Hussein with chemical weapons and more, allowing him to further brutalize not only Iran but also the Kurds of his own country. (The New York Times broke this story in August 2002. I encourage you to research and learn more for yourself.) Fast forward a bit to the most recent Iraq war: in September 2007, a reputable independent research firm (ORB of the UK) put the number at 1.2 million dead Iraqis. For your reference, there are currently about 4,000 dead US soldiers.
1.2 million dead is not a massacre. It is not a war. It is a genocide. But the US feels "uncomfortable" with that word. They won't pin it on the Ottoman Empire for trying to eradicate as many Armenians as possible. They certainly won't pin it on themselves despite actively warmongering. They'll hope that because the 1.2 million dead include Arabs and Kurds, you'll assume that one group is definitely a bunch of terrorists and the others probably are too (even though you have no idea who or what Kurds are), and thus you won't get too inquisitive. And they certainly hope you never start asking about any My Lais in Palestine or in Lebanon, because then you'd certainly stop believing everything your government tells you. You'll start doing all sorts of unpredictable things, like figuring out that Barack Obama is not Muslim and didn't take his senatorial oath on a Quran...
Why does this matter to the US? We are, for better or for worse, a democratic republic. We participate in democracy (certain restrictions apply, such as hanging chads and poor voter/ballot access in areas with high concentrations of people of color) and choose our leaders. I do firmly believe if you vote for national leaders who support a particular war, you have Iraqi blood on your hands. (I do also firmly believe Hillary Clinton is included in this hawk category, but that's for another post.)
Why does this matter to me specifically?
Because I have roots in the mysterious "Middle East" - like the other blog operators and much of the readership. Because I am Armenian, an Armenian American fortunate enough to not have immediate family members dead in the early 20th century at the hands of the Young Turks but an Armenian American who feels both grateful to be spared that personal history and absolutely furious that it's continually denied by Turkey and pooh-poohed by the US and the UK.
Because I am also Serbian, the granddaughter of a non-Jewish Holocaust survivor. My paternal grandfather lived in a small village around Zagreb, now in Croatia. As an adolescent, he participated in the local anti-Nazi resistance movements, as a messenger boy. At one point, he was caught, refused to surrender his message to the Nazis, and instead ate it. He was arrested and detained in a concentration camp. After local resistance fighters somehow captured a Nazi general, he was thrown into a prisoner exchange program. Thirty Slavs, one German. When he crawled back to his parents' home, half-dead of tuberculosis, his own mother did not recognize him.
So, another roll of the dice - maybe my grandfather didn't make it in the group of Slavs being exchanged for the Nazi general, maybe my maternal grandmother's family had lived a few miles west on the "wrong" side of the Iran - Turkey border, and I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be free and well-educated and empowered in America. I would quite possibly not be alive. And I am not unique in this situation; this country is teeming with similar narratives, if you would only listen.
I tell these stories to keep this narrative, my family's narrative, alive, as I realize countless other similar narratives will never be spoken of or written publicly. As comfortable as I may be in a "safe haven" city like San Francisco, I cannot and should not get too comfortable. You shouldn't either.
The Revolution is Available for Purchase
Did you remember to get your mustard-colored keffiyeh - um, I mean, your "houndstooth desert scarf" - from Urban Outfitters? They're available on their US online store! Woo hoo! Maybe they can change their name to Desert Outfitters! The desert is so in, just like skinny jeans, dirty ballet flats, disgustingly big facial hair (on men, that is) waxed into place, and falsely claiming militant vegan status while drinking completely unvegan alcoholic beverages. Anyway, look for more detailed analysis from al-Nawariyeh in the weeks to come. She's been stewing over this disturbing trend for years and will grace us with her rapier wisdom soon.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
The Berkeley Hippie and People's Park
It's not like Berkeley and San Francisco are that much different. In both places you have every kind of person out there ... so diverse and so beautiful, yet my friends in San Francisco insist that I am "Sooo Berkeley!" They always reinforce this by calling me a hippie, labeling me "Berkeley", and insisting that I take a shower ... Who needs showers anyway? I take pride in my Berkeley roots, as I'm from here (and Palestine, of course) born, raised, and now as a scholar. They perpetually label me and even introduce me to new people as a Berkeley hippie! Come on guys ... that's so unfair. (I don't really mind this label, but sometimes they take it to extremes!) I don't have dread locks, I'm not sleeping in the trees (though I support the people sleeping there's cause and give them food or beanies, blankets, etc. when I can), and I do make it to the shower every so often. I'm not saying all hippies are what I just described, but that is the common stereotype.
So yesterday at this event I was a part of planning, we had an excess of food left over and didn't know what to do with it. I said load me up, let's give it to homeless people. I'll leave it in People's Park. They, not knowing much of Berkeley, asked me what People's Park was. People's Park is a park built by and for the people and lits of homeless people reside there and the non-homeless of Berkeley always drop off free food there. So, I went to People's Park carrying trays of food. The homeless people I walked by were talking to me, "Good Morning," "How are you," and other things of this sort. Someone asked if that was free food, and I said "YES! Free Food!" As soon as I set the food on the picnic table, I see this flock of socializing homeless people briskly making their way toward me. I smiled and left before I was trapped in a mob of homeless people. I felt bad that some of the food was soggy due to the rain falling on the bed of my truck where I stored the food on the drive back to Berkeley and People's Park. I was happy that at least the food got there right though. They seemed to appreciate it. Besides, you know what they say ... beggars can't be choosers!
So yesterday at this event I was a part of planning, we had an excess of food left over and didn't know what to do with it. I said load me up, let's give it to homeless people. I'll leave it in People's Park. They, not knowing much of Berkeley, asked me what People's Park was. People's Park is a park built by and for the people and lits of homeless people reside there and the non-homeless of Berkeley always drop off free food there. So, I went to People's Park carrying trays of food. The homeless people I walked by were talking to me, "Good Morning," "How are you," and other things of this sort. Someone asked if that was free food, and I said "YES! Free Food!" As soon as I set the food on the picnic table, I see this flock of socializing homeless people briskly making their way toward me. I smiled and left before I was trapped in a mob of homeless people. I felt bad that some of the food was soggy due to the rain falling on the bed of my truck where I stored the food on the drive back to Berkeley and People's Park. I was happy that at least the food got there right though. They seemed to appreciate it. Besides, you know what they say ... beggars can't be choosers!
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Camping and Vacations
What is the point of camping, this mysterious ritual which leads millions of otherwise well-intending Americans into the "wilderness" to sleep outside, forsake personal hygiene, and embrace the destruction of marshmallows? Personally, I am not inclined to participate. I've spoken with a variety of other WMEGs who concur: camping gives them the creeps.
Why sleep outside? Did our parents come to this country, in many cases as refugees, for us to sleep on dirt? Of course, sleeping on the floor in a room full of anywhere between 6-9 siblings and/or cousins is acceptable. Family is important. Furthermore, what is so enticing about being dirty? We like getting dirty, but not literally, just figuratively (and preferably, sensually). And how could we go for so long without access to full-length mirrors?
Please don't mistake these feelings as disdain for the outdoors. Acceptable outdoor activities include playing football (real football); shopping in outdoor areas like farmer's markets, swap meets, or the overwhelmingly bland malls of Southern California; lying around in a park to drink, smoke, and make out; gardening (because you can't trust the herbs and vegetables from the supermarket); picnicking with 25 of your immediate family members. Our ancestors are laborers. We are people of the sun. But this is America, goddammit, and we're not sleeping outside!
Perhaps this fascination with camping can be attributed to the general attitude toward "vacation." What is vacation to a Middle Eastern family living in America? Allow me to introduce the options, and imagine your own parents' voices echoing through your memory:
1. Vacation? Is this a new word?
2. We are not going anywhere this summer, because you will spend it learning your multiplication tables all the way up to the 12s. I did it back home, and you're going to do it here. I don't care if you're 8 years old!
3. Vacation? We will pile into a van borrowed from your uncle Amir/Serouj/Kian and drive all over within a 300 mile radius visiting all the Arab/Armenian/Persian families we can schedule within a 5 day period.
4. Vacation? Oh, yes! We need to escape from your overbearing grandparents, so we'll book 2 nights at the dinkiest hotel honoring AAA discounts. And it's only 100 miles away, in case something happens. And something will happen - someone will fall ill or fake it - and we'll cut it short. Or we won't be able to handle the excessive phone calls making sure everyone's all right. And we'll cut it short.
5. Vacation, yes! We are going back home. For six weeks, in the heat of summer.
So...yeah. No room for sleeping outdoors there!
Why sleep outside? Did our parents come to this country, in many cases as refugees, for us to sleep on dirt? Of course, sleeping on the floor in a room full of anywhere between 6-9 siblings and/or cousins is acceptable. Family is important. Furthermore, what is so enticing about being dirty? We like getting dirty, but not literally, just figuratively (and preferably, sensually). And how could we go for so long without access to full-length mirrors?
Please don't mistake these feelings as disdain for the outdoors. Acceptable outdoor activities include playing football (real football); shopping in outdoor areas like farmer's markets, swap meets, or the overwhelmingly bland malls of Southern California; lying around in a park to drink, smoke, and make out; gardening (because you can't trust the herbs and vegetables from the supermarket); picnicking with 25 of your immediate family members. Our ancestors are laborers. We are people of the sun. But this is America, goddammit, and we're not sleeping outside!
Perhaps this fascination with camping can be attributed to the general attitude toward "vacation." What is vacation to a Middle Eastern family living in America? Allow me to introduce the options, and imagine your own parents' voices echoing through your memory:
1. Vacation? Is this a new word?
2. We are not going anywhere this summer, because you will spend it learning your multiplication tables all the way up to the 12s. I did it back home, and you're going to do it here. I don't care if you're 8 years old!
3. Vacation? We will pile into a van borrowed from your uncle Amir/Serouj/Kian and drive all over within a 300 mile radius visiting all the Arab/Armenian/Persian families we can schedule within a 5 day period.
4. Vacation? Oh, yes! We need to escape from your overbearing grandparents, so we'll book 2 nights at the dinkiest hotel honoring AAA discounts. And it's only 100 miles away, in case something happens. And something will happen - someone will fall ill or fake it - and we'll cut it short. Or we won't be able to handle the excessive phone calls making sure everyone's all right. And we'll cut it short.
5. Vacation, yes! We are going back home. For six weeks, in the heat of summer.
So...yeah. No room for sleeping outdoors there!
Call for Costume Help!
Readers dear - I am stumped. I need a costume for Bay to Breakers. It needs to be wearable enough so that I can run about 7.5 miles, and it needs to be gender-appropriate (ie no women's clothes). I'm open to wigs, closed to makeup, and would run as the Ayatollah if it wouldn't get me popped off by the NRA. Some possibilities include: Bevan Dufty (domesticated SF supervisor) pushing a fake baby stroller, a giant falafel, Aladdin. Please note I cannot run as Gavin Newsom, because I was the Gavinator for Halloween.
Leave your ideas here or write me at waywardmideasterngirls at gmail. Kisses!
Leave your ideas here or write me at waywardmideasterngirls at gmail. Kisses!
Friday, March 7, 2008
Project Rami! FINALE
This week we saw the finale of Project Runway, season 4, and thus the end of our weekly television-based dose of one of our favorite wayward Middle Eastern boys, Rami Kashou...
We'll be brief. As you may know by now, Rami came in second this season, following the young and sassy Christian Siriano. There's a lot we could say about this situation: how Rami's collection was actually the most beautiful and diverse and didn't look like Shakespeare on crack, how a woman whose idea of a good accessory is grapefruits implanted under her skin is probably not the best choice for a guest judge, how Michael and Nina-- as experienced and talented as they are-- are still kind of boring, and, ultimately, how this is just television and probably had as much to do with months of producers' planning as it did with the actual designs and designers... but, you know. What we will say is that Christian was not a horrible one to win if Rami couldn't-- his designs have been consistently well-made and innovative, and he exudes potential, and already has a fashion-industry attitude-- and, frankly, seeing him a bit vulnerable and emotional at the end was actually rather nice. (We felt this way about Jeffrey Sebelia last season, too, which made it a little better that he won instead of our fave, Mychael Knight... except his final collection actually was better than Mychael's, but whatever.) Nevertheless, coming in second in a show full of lots of talent is nothing to scoff at, and Rami will still be getting plenty of publicity and attention and hopefully financial support, which is really all he'll need because he is amazingly talented and has already been very successful. And, bottom line, we are so proud that another ambitious young Palestinian man has transcended circumstance and done so well-- and will continue to. That's true reality right there.
We'd like to direct you to Project Runway's "Rate the Runway" page for this last episode, in which you can view, and rate, the looks from each final designer's collection, including Rami's, which was positively gorgeous. And here, you can watch Rami's (highly edited) exit interview, in which he exhibits a lot of poise, class, and graciousness. We'd especially like to ask all those who have been hating on him all season-- and we know there are a lot of you out there-- to watch, because you get a better idea of who Rami really is.
Bottom line, this is television. Even reality shows are not reality. We'll miss watching the show (and Rami) every week, but we also got plenty else to do. Like save the world! We hope you'll join us.
(P.S. Rami, if you ever decide to make anything in our size and price range, give us a call.)
xoxo,
WMEG
We'll be brief. As you may know by now, Rami came in second this season, following the young and sassy Christian Siriano. There's a lot we could say about this situation: how Rami's collection was actually the most beautiful and diverse and didn't look like Shakespeare on crack, how a woman whose idea of a good accessory is grapefruits implanted under her skin is probably not the best choice for a guest judge, how Michael and Nina-- as experienced and talented as they are-- are still kind of boring, and, ultimately, how this is just television and probably had as much to do with months of producers' planning as it did with the actual designs and designers... but, you know. What we will say is that Christian was not a horrible one to win if Rami couldn't-- his designs have been consistently well-made and innovative, and he exudes potential, and already has a fashion-industry attitude-- and, frankly, seeing him a bit vulnerable and emotional at the end was actually rather nice. (We felt this way about Jeffrey Sebelia last season, too, which made it a little better that he won instead of our fave, Mychael Knight... except his final collection actually was better than Mychael's, but whatever.) Nevertheless, coming in second in a show full of lots of talent is nothing to scoff at, and Rami will still be getting plenty of publicity and attention and hopefully financial support, which is really all he'll need because he is amazingly talented and has already been very successful. And, bottom line, we are so proud that another ambitious young Palestinian man has transcended circumstance and done so well-- and will continue to. That's true reality right there.
We'd like to direct you to Project Runway's "Rate the Runway" page for this last episode, in which you can view, and rate, the looks from each final designer's collection, including Rami's, which was positively gorgeous. And here, you can watch Rami's (highly edited) exit interview, in which he exhibits a lot of poise, class, and graciousness. We'd especially like to ask all those who have been hating on him all season-- and we know there are a lot of you out there-- to watch, because you get a better idea of who Rami really is.
Bottom line, this is television. Even reality shows are not reality. We'll miss watching the show (and Rami) every week, but we also got plenty else to do. Like save the world! We hope you'll join us.
(P.S. Rami, if you ever decide to make anything in our size and price range, give us a call.)
xoxo,
WMEG
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