Arab Women’s Group Faces New Hurdles in Dispelling Stereotypes

WASHINGTON -- Lynne Muasher is a modern Arab woman. She has a degree in social and behavioral science, a husband with a demanding job and two small children. She’s articulate, chic in a sleek pantsuit and always busy, just like a lot of women in Washington. She’s married to Marwan Jamil Muasher, Jordan’s ambassador to the United States.

Rim Abboud has a master’s degree in electrical engineering, a 6-year-old son who plays soccer, and two sisters--a banker and a teacher. She’s married to Farid Abboud, Lebanon’s ambassador.

Princess Haifa Al-Faisal of Saudi Arabia is the daughter of the late King Faisal ibn Abdulaziz and the wife of Prince Bandar bin Sultan, Saudi Arabia’s ambassador and dean of Washington’s diplomatic corps. She’s lived here for 18 years, has eight children, keeps a low public profile, and yes, she’s rich.

All Arab women. All different, and all members of Mosaic, an American charity created four years ago by the spouses of Arab ambassadors to the U.S. The official purpose of this apolitical foundation is to raise money for women and children’s issues. Its unofficial purpose is to shatter stereotypes about Arab culture, religions and women.

“I never met one of those cowed, passive Arab women,” says Mosaic trustee Malea Abdel Rahman of the Palestinian National Authority. “I’ve never seen an Arab woman who doesn’t have something to say, and never met one who doesn’t have a decision-making role in her family.”

Rahman is a human rights lawyer, wife, and mother of four kids. She’s outspoken, funny and frequently exasperated by stereotypes about Arabs. Of course, she acknowledges, there’s a great deal of progress to be made for many women in the Middle East.

The events of Sept. 11 were traumatic. Arab-American organizations have spent years trying to dispel stereotypes about Arabs and Muslims, especially that the religion of Islam is hostile and intolerant. Then Osama bin Laden, a Saudi by birth, and the Taliban changed all that. Despite calls by President Bush to avoid discrimination, civil rights groups reported hate crimes against Arabs or those who looked Arabic.

“There’s this sense of holding your breath all the time,” says Rahman.

The name Mosaic comes from the traditional Middle Eastern art form that uses many different stones to create a single graceful design. “It drives me crazy that people don’t understand that the Arab world is made up of Christians, Muslims and Jews,” says Rahman.

Rahman, Muasher and Abboud are Christians. Two of the women are American natives married to Arab ambassadors: Rahman and Kathleen El Maaroufi of Morocco.

These women are trying to gently educate Washington about what it means to be an Arab woman in today’s world. It’s a new role for these diplomatic spouses, who traditionally kept a very low profile. “When I came here in 1978, almost half the Arab ambassadors didn’t speak English or didn’t speak it well,” says Jean AbiNader, managing director of the Arab-American Institute.

Flash forward just 20 years. Mosaic’s members are educated, outspoken, stylish and quite public. All speak fluent English and Arabic. They are exceptional but, they insist, not the exception.

“If you look at the Arab world from Morocco to Iraq--all 22 Arab countries--there are various degrees in the role of women in society,” says AbiNader. “But the tendency is to see all of them as some variation of Saudi Arabia, which is the country with the least public role for women.”

Like many cultures around the world, the power of Arab women has traditionally been private. That doesn’t mean, says El Maaroufi, that the women are oppressed. “We think of them as being submissive, whereas I find most Arab women very self-confident.”

The 17 charter members came from across the Middle East and Africa. (Mosaic’s trustees are ambassadors’ spouses from Arab League countries with diplomatic relations with the United States.) Like most diplomatic wives, they were already involved in philanthropic causes individually, but Mosaic gave them a collective voice. “They’re most effective at providing positive images of what Arab women and the Arab world in general can do,” says Reema Jweied, executive director of marketing at the National U.S.-Arab Chamber of Commerce. “They’ve been able to cut across a lot of stereotypes, but I’m sure there are people who still question what they do.”

Mosaic’s first gala was held in May 1998. The women invited the Caracalla Dance Theatre of Lebanon, donned elaborate traditional costumes and transformed the Atrium of the Kennedy Center into an Arabian fantasy. The evening raised $500,000 for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, which treats a number of children from Arab countries.

The second annual gala, which boasted the likes of World Bank President Jim Wolfensohn, raised $320,000 for the National Race for the Cure and breast cancer research. By the following year, Mosaic had attracted the attention of Washington’s top fund-raisers. Mosaic has also made large donations to the International Red Cross/Red Crescent Kosovo Refugee Relief, and the American Red Cross Turkish Earthquake Disaster Relief. “I think that they’re difficult to say no to,” says Tim Coughlin, president of Riggs National Corp. and chair of Mosaic’s finance committee.

Last month, Mosaic hosted a fund-raising dinner with the United Nations Foundation honoring Nobel Peace Prize laureate Nelson Mandela. Originally, the star-studded salute to the former South African president was slated for the Kennedy Center, with Laura Bush as honorary chairwoman and Harry Belafonte onstage. The dinner was postponed for six months to accommodate Mandela’s schedule; then it was moved to the more private Saudi Embassy because of increasing tensions in the Middle East. Despite the change in venue and the events of Sept. 11, the benefit raised $2.1 million for families in Africa suffering from AIDS.

Mosaic now has the opportunity to become one of the most influential charities in Washington. Or the opposite could happen: Despite the best intentions of these women, Mosaic could collapse under the weight of global events.

After the attacks, many of the women got calls and e-mail expressing concern, gestures that both touched and encouraged them. Mosaic quietly continued to raise funds for the gala, says Muasher. “Nobody told us, ‘We’re not going to give you the money because you’re Arabs.’”