U.S. Kurd Not Keen on Sexual Equality, So He Goes Home to Find Traditional Wife

Like many Kurds living abroad, Jamil returned to northern Iraq for the first time in many years.

The trip gave him a chance to see family and friends after this year’s dramatic events--the abortive Kurdish rebellion in March, the Kurds’ epic flight to the mountains in April and the subsequent creation of an allied security zone.

And like many Kurdish men back for a visit, Jamil, 37, came seeking a wife.

A naturalized U.S. citizen, Jamil, not his real name, is part of a small Kurdish community in a major American city. As a self-employed businessman, he could afford to take several months off to make the trip.

Jamil’s first marriage, to a Kurdish woman who grew up and was educated in the United States, ended in divorce.

“She was a great mother to my two children, but a lousy wife,” said Jamil. “She was more American than Kurdish. I want a real Kurdish woman who knows her role and accepts it.”

Jamil’s notion of a woman’s role does not include a professional career. He blames the long hours his first wife worked as a lawyer for their break-up.

“There is too much competition between the sexes in America,” said Jamil. “I don’t want to negotiate with my wife over household chores or to get permission to do what I want.”

The process of finding a wife in Kurdistan is as traditional as the role the woman is expected to play after marriage.

The first thing that Jamil did was to tell his elderly parents that he was looking for a bride. They suggested that he visit family friends in a nearby town, to see if any of their four daughters were to his liking.

One was.

“I saw her for a few minutes as she served food and tea,” said Jamil of the woman he is about to marry. “She is pretty and polite and seems to know how to behave.”

Jamil admits that he doesn’t know much more about the 24-year-old woman. By Kurdish custom he has never spoken, sat or walked with her.

“There’s not much love or contact involved, I know. It is just luck really, but it works in Kurdistan.”

He cited the minuscule divorce rate in Kurdistan, estimated by an official in the city of Dohuk to be one in 1,000, and contrasts it with the 50-50 chance of a marriage ending in divorce in the United States.

“I dated my first wife for three years and we lived together for one year before we married and it still didn’t work. Knowing a person well beforehand is no guarantee of a good marriage.”

Having made his choice, Jamil had a mutual acquaintance discreetly tell the woman of his intentions. After she acquiesced, it was up to Jamil’s parents to work out the details with her parents.

In this case, there weren’t many details.

Jamil declined to pay for his bride, reasoning that the marriage link with an American citizen was benefit enough for her family, since it offers the possibility that others may make it to the United States in the future.

Jamil also decided against a traditional Kurdish wedding. “I just want to get married by a justice of the peace and take the girl to Istanbul for a honeymoon on the way back to America,” he said.

The only cloud on Jamil’s horizon is the paperwork necessary to get his bride back to the United States once they are married.

He is not worried that she will forget her “role” and learn American ways. “That will take many years,” he said confidently. “She only speaks basic English.”

Asad, also a pseudonym, is a Kurdish friend of Jamil’s, and is also a naturalized U.S. citizen.

He made this trip with Jamil, and witnessed his whirlwind courtship. Asad is philosophical about his friend’s matrimonial odyssey.

“All first-generation expatriates in the United States have a hard time reconciling their traditional values with American values,” said Asad. “We are a lost generation, lost between two cultures.”