Women Creating Change November 17, 2019

Women Creating Change - photo by Michael Tullberg

Arab and Israeli women in film and television united for an unprecedented evening, proving that art can transcend religion and politics, at the ‘Stand Up 4 Her’ event, in Los Angeles, California, on November 17th, 2019. The founder of Women Creating Change (WCC), Lee Broda, along with her founding team Inbal-Rotem Sagiv, Nawal Bengholam, Natasha Kermani, Shelly Skandrani, Natalie Marciano, Reem Edan, Eliya Reis, Reem Kadem, Micky Levy, and dozens of other members, presented an awe inspiring event which featured powerful performances by renowned female comedians, poets, storytellers, artists, performers, and musicians from Lebanon, Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Iran, Pakistan, Morocco, Palestine, and Israel.

Reem Kadem & Gal Macadar - photo by Jonathan C. Ward

The sold out, star studded event, including patrons such as Yael Grobglas ("Jane the Virgin"), Alon Aboutboul (The Dark Knight Rises), and Sarah Idan (Miss Universe Iraq 2017), had the audience laughing, crying and cheering! The guests came in expecting to be entertained, but they also left so inspired, buying raffle tickets, and donating to the non-profit, proving WCC’s mission of bridging communities, to be a success!

The evening began with authentic Middle Eastern cuisine from Chef Oshri Vaknin and a hosted cocktail reception sponsored by Stella Artois and Dulce Vida. As guests mingled and took pictures on the red carpet, they were introduced to astonishing works showcased in the art exhibit, including the original artwork of Fadia Afashe (Syria), Pooneh Rafsha (Iran), Tasneem Rahman (Pakistan), and Ilanit Maghen (Israel), curated by Lauren Annette Schoth.

Zain Shami - photo by Jonathan C. Ward

Lee Broda opened the show with a moving introduction to Women Creating Change’s mission to bring together women of different beliefs, religions and political views from the Middle East.

According to Lee Broda, "We seek to inspire change and bridge cultural divides; we believe that together we are stronger, because our similarities are greater than our differences.”

“Stand Up for Her” kicked off with Muslim-Iraqi Comedian Reem Edan and Jewish-Israeli actress Gal Macadar “arguing” over who would serve as host. “Let’s settle this like men. Meet me outside in five,” Edan said. “Or we can settle this like women and talk about it,” replied Macadar. (The women decided to co-host.)

Natalie Marciano - photo by Jonathan C. Ward

The show featured outstanding comedians Crystal Marie Denha, Melissa Shoshahi, Noam Shuster, Nina Kharoufeh, Natalie Marciano, Zain Shami, and Mona Shaikh, who shared saucy insights into being a modern Middle Eastern woman, revealing through humor, that they all share the same plights.

Crystal Marie Denha made the audience blush with her jokes about sex.

Natalie Marciano had them ululating loudly saying “If Gwyneth Paltrow doesn’t know what it is, it must be some messed up shit!”

“I see you undressing me with your eyes,’ said hijab wearing Zain Shami. “Do you want to make me your second wife?”

To balance out the evening, poets and storytellers entered the stage with emotionally provoking performances, reading original and borrowed work.

Nawal Bengholam read a poem by Salma El-Wardany. Lee Broda shared her poem, "The Vow," from her book of poetry, Whispers from the Moon:  "I promise to honor the woman in me… water her with light, feed her kindness, kiss her scars, bathe her with love.”

Shelly Skandrani performed her poem "Social Reconditioning."

Shelly Skandrani - photo by Jonathan C. Ward

“Too busy convincing me that I don’t know my own desires, and the world admires your strength and
conviction, my smile and submission.”

Inbar Lavi (Lucifer) spoke of how women create the feeling of home, and what connects the WCC members is that they’ve left their homes behind and built a new one in Los Angeles. Storyteller Ayser Salman shared moments about her childhood as an immigrant from her book The Wrong End of the Table: A Mostly Comic Memoir of a Muslim Arab American Woman Just Trying to Fit In.

Guests also enjoyed a special musical performance by Inbar Starr and beats from DJ Karina Kay.
The event was wrapped up with a dessert reception hosted by The Baklava Factory and Mamilla Restaurant, and the VIP guests even received gift bags with Converse Shoes and other goodies.

All proceeds achieved from the evening will benefit WCC programs for female filmmakers. WCC is fiscally sponsored by Women’s Voices Now. The event was held in partnership with Women In Film, Alliance of Women Directors, New Filmmakers LA, Film Fatales, Women In Media, and Saddle Ranch Pictures.

Inbar Lavi & Lee Broda - photo by Jonathan C. Ward

“Women Creating Change was founded by female filmmakers and artists from across the Middle East and North Africa (MENA),"stated WCC Founder, Lee Broda. “I was excited to help celebrate these talented female storytellers at this year’s event, Stand Up 4 Her, as we continue to strive to create a space for peaceful co-existence and honest, substantive dialogue around today’s issues.”

In a time when women are fighting for or against something, and rightly so, it is however, refreshing to come together for an evening and celebrate each other.

Attendees reveled in the evening’s ambitious program! Inbal-Rotem Sagiv, Executive Director, said “[We were] planning this event for a while, and were excited to share our vision, but little did we know it would incite such a magnificent reaction!

Poem: Frigophobia by Soodabeh Saeidnia

Frigophobia

It’s not cold outside, listen to me!

No need to wear your -35 boots,

And your waterproof, multi-layer coat

No need to wear the wool gloves and toque*



When snowflakes come down,

And crawling blowers wake you up

Early in the morning shocked

It doesn’t mean that is cold outside!



People smoke by breathing out

Buses disappear to blurring eyes

Rub your hands, you’ll feel better

It’s just winter. Don’t blame it on cold!



Funny you! A few degrees below zero

Not in Centigrade but in Fahrenheit!

Hibernation is better that buying

That ski suit for an arm and a leg



You need more your cellphone and credit cards

Than this jacket and scarf and earmuffs

Though, I agree with hot coffee in every season



Damn! Look at my trembling hands!

I already turned on the heat

Give me that fucking blanket before you leave!              


-----------------------------
*Canadian version of “Beanie”

Poem: Where Is My Boat Captain? by Soodabeh Saeidnia

Where Is My Boat Captain? by Soodabeh Saeidnia

Rings of a golden necklace
Hanging on the blue neck
The sun is sparkling
Shimmering strands, here and there

Pieces of silver cloud
Brilliant cuts on top
Soar on coastal winds
Across the sea, here and there

Footprints on gravel
Disappear one by one
Scallops are traveling
On the waves, here and there

Childhood’s memorized
Making cottage in size
Riding a horse of wood
And wheels, here and there

Happy children of the town
Hiding their hands behind
With the gentle sound of the captain
Dancing on the boats, here and there

Knock and plink of the board
Took the captain to the shore
Sometimes in a canoe,
Sometimes on a boat
Made us all sit, here and there

But oppression of the time
Broken my canoes’ boards
On my cottage windows,
Dust of life, here and there

Now, the old boats abandoned
On the side of the town
Captains call the brand new ones
By the other names, here and there

In the childhood memories
We still run on the beach
Hiding among the bushes
Riding the horses, here and there

The secret of tulips
Can be said to poppies
Scallops can be hidden
Under a pile of sand, here and there

You can sleep under the sun
With a generous breeze
Listening to the tales of fairies
By lovely shells, here and there

Now, the imaginary shells
No roaring of the waves
On the hot sand of the fate,
Where is my boat captain?!
Where is my tail, here and there?

Poetry: Sufficiency, by Soodabeh Saeidnia

Sufficiency

To crave, you are
Less than a competence
Less than a passion
Less than a habit

For passing,
Although you can come,
You’re less than a companion
Less than a reach

You are green garden of freshness
But the shadow empty

For my thirst, you are less than dew
Although full of joy,
Although full of love,
Full of freedom like the wind,
Full of solitude like a mount,
But full of sorrow and grief

You’re tired of the long road
Tired of all the mysteries
You are not able to pass
Because you're lost in the valleys

My poem isn’t your worth
Not a drip of you
You’re my ocean
Although less than dew!

Poem by Soodabeh Saeidnia

Edited by William Mortensen Vaughan

Poem: My Rap Game, by Jarvon Greer

Growing up in a generation
Where da familiar
Remains da same
Left me to hide
My real name
And that's how I discovered
My talent through acting
So I was able
to express myself
With my dramatic personality
And with my deep emotional sensitivity
Attracting all women
Then I found out
I had passion for wordz
Passion for writing
So I had to invent
Dis dynamic rap game
To spit to u in many ways
Dat u never seen a guy
Express himself before
So my rap game is
No different than my luv game
Showing dat I can
Rap to u with my actions
Rap to u with my diversed style
Rap to u with da correct education
Teaching u how us men
Love women like u
So my rap game is
No different than my luv game
Leaves u with many questions
Asking am I real
or is he playing
No baby I am as real
As I grabbed u
& whispered in yo ear
My own poetic verse
Can't just sample my wordz
Unless u believe
I can make yo body tingle
With my simple rhyme scheme
To keep u entertained
So my rap game is
No different than my luv game
Then my romantic poetic skillz evolved
As I discovered
how to express myself
Letting all women know
I am a man with many qualities
Using them all to invent my luv game
To get on my knees, asking for yo hand
To recite my only proposal
Hypnotizing yo eyes
Unleashing da sex fiend inside of u
Telling u more so dat
your body is dripping wet
Using my luv game through nature
Using colors to express my luv game
Using songs I wrote
to touch yo heart
Using my body language
To express my only desired luv game
And making sure, I have u in my arms
Letting u know u have da best man
So as I said before
My rap game is no
different than my luv game

Poem: Praise, by Soodabeh Saeidnia

I think you need a new story
I shall get the habit not to see you again,
And I shall write a stricken poem too
To narrate to the world
You are coming while there is life in your heart
Your eyes tell the story of simplicity
But my dear,
How can I complain and stop praising you!
You are coming while my burning pain going out
Night slowly goes from my dorm
Thousands basket of cute lilacs and white jasmines,
I picked for you to devote
Although you have been far from me for many years
I know you! I am familiar with you!
Like a greeting from distant lands,
I shall call you to the party of my heart

A Gift From Great-Aunt Prudence

Drawing by Joseph Yeomans

Poem by Lewis Gardner

In the early days of liberated consciousness —

1967, to be exact —

I was cashier in a shop of imported

goods.  One cargo included hand-carved

wooden sculptures from Taiwan

of a hand with upraised middle finger.

This wasn’t the plastic gewgaw

you later saw everywhere, but something

no doubt crafted by carvers with generations

of tradition behind them, who assumed

this strange object had religious

significance for Americans.

One night a little old lady —

since this was Boston, a very Bostonian

old lady — brought six of them

to my counter.  “Such lovely ringholders,”

she said, “just the thing

for my grandnephews this Christmas.”

So early in the days of liberated

consciousness — and in Boston besides —

I didn’t know how to tell an old lady

that these items were neither ringholders

nor suitable gifts for her grandnephews.

So I rang them up and bagged them.

Besides, I really enjoyed imagining

Christmas morning in Cambridge, Duxbury,

Manchester-by-the-Sea,

as one by one they would open

neatly wrapped packages sent

with love by Great-Aunt Prudence.

Creative Writing: I Am...

by Rashell Deering


I Am...

Staring at a clean sheet,

feeling the emotions roll within

me.

The air, cool on my naked skin,

shivers with my intent.

My thoughts boil and twist

within me.  What am I to tell?

Glancing over, I see the

bottles.  Their colors beckon to

me.

"Use me to speak emotions to

others like you,” they whisper.

A lid opens with a click of a

finger.

The color glistens in the light.

I quiver.

A flash of light behind me

flares.  There is no one but me

to explore.

I am the artist and the art.  Or

at least I will become something

that will exist forever.

I whisper to myself of dreams

unspoken to others.  Dreams that

had died long ago are to be

reborn this day.  This day, I

resurrect my past.  This day, I

will exonerate my life.  This

day, I will hurt but this day.

This day...

The flashes brighten as my heart

unfolds.  The paint, slick and

smooth, kisses the papered wall.

 It runs in rivulets down to the

floor.  My bare feet make

footprints that mark my life.  I

walk the path again, reliving

the moments that broke me once.

My hand marks the smooth wall

with my words.  Pressure locked

in my chest, I cannot breathe. 

Blinded by words of the past,

marked like a ruined scarlet

woman, I paint.  Freedom, I do

not feel yet.  The threshold is

not in sight.  Heart pounding

out ragged and staggered beats,

I breathe.  I breathe in the

metallic scent of the colors

that run a course race through

my fingers.  Tattered, I begin

to tell the tale.

A spearing jealousy and rage

fills me that my dreams were

thrown out by those careless

hands.  The paint becomes the

dream.  The spotted dabs of it

ruin the pristine virgin paper,

unmarked before my rage and pain

sullied its innocent face. 

Innocent as I once was.  Gripped

in terror, the colors swirl.  I

am going to be lost.  BOOKMARK I

know that hopelessness. It is as

familiar to me as a lover’s

touch. It whispers. I answer. I

cannot help it. I release myself

to the pain. I have no choice.

It steals me away. I am a

captive, a slave.

I am alone here. I am alone in

this place. No words are spoken

in my head other than my own. A

voice murmurs to me. I answer

its questions. I answer the

truth but will remember it not.

Flashes catch my eye but I am

too lost to process the reason.

I work, I create.

My words reverberate on the

paper as pain takes over. Blood

streams from my heart, smearing

the future I once believed I

would have. The past speaks

louder than the voice that would

become a salve to me later. I

listen to the voices of the

yesterdays I have lost. I am

encased in a memory, a painful

cocoon. The webbing binds me to

it. It screams at me that it

will not let go. It will not

loosen its hold. It will not

allow. It will not relinquish

me.

Happiness, I once longed to

embrace, joins the battle.

Intertwined with snake like

curls of the brush, I work.

Clawing through my hands, the

words fall upon the page. I

cannot stop their leaping. Tears

blind me. I cannot see.

Trembling knees and knotted

tongue, I breathe deeply.

Fighting through the horror of

my life, I work. What once

plagued me is pushing against my

knowledge. Joy dances with the

pain, holding hands and laughing

as the chains weaken. Hysterical

howling as the past screams its

wounds putrid and foul. Salve

made of colors and soothing

caresses extend my mind. I slash

with the steel clad blade of my

brush.

Knowledge of change and growth

flows out. Colors blend and

separate to blend again.

The voice speaks as flashes move

and brighten. The past released

and the future whispers of new

dreams, new promises. Light

spotlights my pain and covers

it, soothes it like a wounded

child. I survived and grew.

Strength tangles with the

weakness and binds itself to me

as armor. I am a warrior, full

of breathless excitement at the

battle I have won. Survival and

forgiveness are mine now. The

child I was lays safe in my

heart, slumbering and protected.

The wife I was once smiles with

hope. The mother I became held

the peaceful memories of

sheltering her children in her

arms. The woman I am became

hope. I am the dreams that I

once held. I am the one who

believed. I am because I was

allowed to become. I am a

treasure. I am art. I am…. I am

the moment that I thought I

lost. I am a survivor. I am the

future.

I am you.

Rashell Deering

"You Are Not A Normal Human Being"

You Are Not A Normal Human Being

You are not a normal human being

I know you.

You know you

You have beautiful dreams you are fulfilling

You wake up everyday on the ceiling

And inspire your desires to radiate your feelings

You are not afraid to be yourself

Despite anyone else

You know who you are

You are not a normal human being

You are not the cheesy cliché character in the corner of the bar

Telling horror stories about how marriage is a dead dark dishcloth

cemetery

You can get married and love your spouse forever and still be free

You can get a job, make lots of money, and not be a selfish, egoistical

prick

No matter what happens to you, you can be happy

You are here to remember, not forget

You are not a normal human being

You do not suffer from the chaos of your own delusions

You are not ruled by the desolate confusion of other people’s illusions

You are not brainwashed by the mediocre mass media

You are the real heartfelt, breathing, bloody, soul filled essence of life

You are not a walking, talking robotic encyclopedia

You are a tender burning gentle loving light

You are not a television set glued to a graveyard

You transcend Middle America like a dark sky overflowing with bright

stars

You are not a normal human being

You did not come to Planet Earth to work for green paper and die

You came to satisfy your soul, to search yourself whole,

You came to serve this beautiful world

You came to feel the joy of why

You are not a normal human being

You do not sit around all day gossiping the gospel from one tragic play to

the next

You do not live your life for the sake of regret

You do not put your fellow brothers and sisters down

You do not waste your time

Your voice is a gentle, relaxing, indigo sound

That enhances and expands the space within everyone’s mind

You are not a normal human being

You are not afraid of your creator

You are not going to die and spontaneously begin an eternal burning

You are not waiting for a savior

You are here now and you are aware and you are learning

You condemn no one to hell

Instead you invite everyone into heaven

You understand and you are understood

You forgive and you are forgiven

You are not a normal human being

You touch the angels, you scare the demons, and you inspire the sun

You have no one to blame

You are not a normal human being

Why?

Because there is no such thing as one

Here Forever

There is a reason for everything,

if you don’t stop going.

There is a solution for every problem,

if you don’t stop growing.

There is a gift you will receive,

if you keep on giving

There is a life you will believe,

if you keep on living.

To get your feet wet,

you must walk into the water.

To be a great dad,

you must forgive your own father.

Yes it takes such a long time,

but when it comes it lasts forever.

Love will find you,

when you find yourself together.

Words On A Piece Of Paper

I think I might finally understand what it is I have been babbling about all

these years.

Goodness, strength, balance, compassion are all within me.

I am the one who has to let them out.

I am the one who has to be genuine with them.

I am the one who has to share my heart, my toothbrush, and my dreams

with them.

I am the heaven I find in a flower.

I walk out the door to go nowhere.  

I am finally aware I am always here. 

I could not find myself before because I was looking. 

I could not find myself before because I was trying too hard

to be someone who gets somewhere

but since I am always myself there was nowhere to go but me.

Now I can finally do nothing and feel free

which is completely funny

because in actuality “nothing” is what I have been doing my whole life

especially when I was trying to do something.

A million angels in the sky and you don’t even have to say hi. 

There is no race in inner space.

There are rats there though

but they are all lounging in tiny hammocks and little chairs,

sipping drank through a straw,

watching the breeze kick it with the trees,

watching the sun smile for us all.

Child Be Wild

Child be wild!

You are ahead of your time,

take advantage of your innocence

with your smile,

discover your heart

and you will never have to search with your mind.

We do not need anymore of you to grow up,

we already have enough boring adults

meandering around unable to get lost or found,

acting in grown up dramas during the day,

getting stuck in the play at night

unable to lift their dreams into flight,

waking up ruled by rules cold, starved, and lonely.

Child be seen!

You are the one and only person

who can create your dream life,

remember if someone is being mean

there is a great chance they are not right,

so never stop shining your light!

We need you out here in the ever changing world

to help us remember who we were as little boys and girls

with pockets full of joy and eyes full of pearls,

open our minds to the wide winged wonder

and run into our arms at the exploding sound of thunder,

you have so much to teach us yet so much to learn

and we have no reason to reject or to be so stern.

Child be heard!

You can hear the songs

the flowers sing to the birds,

award us your sweet voice

By Justin Blackburn

(http://virgograypress.com/2012/07/10/you-are-not-a-normal-human-being-by-justin-blackburn/)

Reply to: Reply to Justin Blackburn

Send