Access... Allowed or Denied?

There was gold lettering on the wooden door across from the office. "Faculty Room", it read, and in there all my favorite people went for lunch. Walking down the hallways of Stewart School, two by two, my classmates and I tried to peer into that forbidden place. Did they have a pool? Were there soft chairs? Was there a secret passage to the past in that teachers' lounge? All I knew was that grownups weren't subject to the stress of the cafeteria. That alone was reason enough to consider teaching as a career!

Years later, when I was on the brink of being a Junior High student, I visited the school to help a beloved teacher pack up his materials to switch schools. Without knowing of the Mystique of the Faculty Room, he sent me down there to pick up a folder he had left on the table.  I walked down to the room, in disbelief, and held my breath before opening the door.  It was as if I knew that this was the portal separating youth and adulthood. One must tread gently before such a big change!

You won't be surprised to know it was an ordinary room. It just had a table or two and chairs that were stuck back in the 1970s. It smelled of coffee. That was all.

But this room represents Access to me.  It represented a place that was off limits for me based on my status or age. My invitation to go pick up that folder meant a change in Access, a literal opening of doors for me to another level of society.

I am lucky. When I think about Access, or about Access Denied, the first place that comes to mind is a faculty room in a childhood haven. In my daily life, I can go to gyms, restaurants, malls, schools, offices and even faculty rooms without being questioned for my gender or status in society.  Furthermore, because I know many languages and because even strangers sense my genuine interest in people and the human condition, I have been invited to places that most of my friends wouldn't think to try to access. I have been in sacred places for so many religions and festivals or parties for so many different cultures. I have been fortunate to speak with community members from worlds so different from my own. 

During my time in the Mideast, I realized how rare my fortune is.

Qatar has designated a weekly Family Day at the malls because females are not comfortable being out in public where there are single men about. 

In Bahrain, females may study engineering, but they still do not have access to the engineering careers and salaries that their male counterparts have.

Even at the hotels, there are different swimming hours for men and women.

Migrant workers have their passports taken away from them so they will not leave when conditions are unbearable. 

An American passport can get me to so many more places than, say, an Israeli or Palestinian one.

When we were told about the customary Majlis (meeting room gathering), the gentleman at the Fanar Cultural Center told us that the best way to understand Qatari culture was to be invited to a Majlis. Then, he went on to describe what happens in the male majlis, how the grandfather figure greets each person and how to handle the Arabic Coffee and the sweet tea, and when politics or business can be discussed. 

We asked this gentleman about the female majlis, and he said he had obviously never been inside one but "they probably do henna."  My new friend Elizabeth giggled respectfully at the stereotypical nature of his response, and I realized that if you do not have access to a part of society, all you have is stereotypes or other people's reports. 

All I knew about the faculty room of childhood  was the rumor that there might be a pool there.

Access, therefore, is not only crucial for people who are denied it. Yes, women deserve to feel safe and to receive salaries equal to men, and yes, they need to have career paths open to them commensurate with their education. Yes, migrant workers deserve to sleep in bed-bug free conditions and have the option to leave dangerous conditions. Yes, we all need to have the ability to travel and to learn for ourselves how the rest of the world lives.

Access for others, however, is also crucial for those who are in the elite group who have that very access. If people who are unlike me never get to know me, they will only have misinformation about me. Misinformation will lead to fear or ridicule or larger-than-life expectations of me. By denying you access to my side of the world, I am denying myself the pleasure of your friendship or the hope of our mutual understanding.

How can we open doors after we feel so unsafe? We are in a tricky world where doors of access have been closed and bombs have destroyed lives. Trust is at a minimum right now, but the need for real communication is at its apex. 

This morning, I am happy to be home, snuggling with my cats, with memories of an amazing journey. However, I know that the little bit of access I was granted to a foreign world has forged new understandings both for me and for my students. I hope that it has also made that difference for people I met while overseas.

I hope that as a society...as many societies...we can think about how access can be granted to promote understanding and freedom, thus paving the way for peace.