I'm not a big TV watcher, TV in general bores me, and I'm not even talking about news channels whose coverage is so "un-news" worthy that it leaves me yelling at the tube when I do watch it. Even though weeks would go by in the States when I wouldn't even turn on the tube, my TV watching habits go into over-drive when I'm overseas. The Arab satellite channels aren't that bad. There's a couple stations that show syndicated American shows, usually the "best of the best" - CSI, Law & Order, Grey's Anatomy, Gilmore Girls. And then you've got the talk shows - Oprah, Dr. Phil, etc which are broadcasted during what we refer to in the States as "prime time" hours. I can't quite figure out what the Arab Sat channels consider prime time hours, but it seems to be 9pm-1am. During those hours, they also broadcast Turkish soap operas dubbed into Arabic.
If I felt required to defend my TV-watching habits, I would say that it is an excellent medium for improving my Arabic comprehension. Especially any of the arab soap operas and movies - the romance is always forbidden - usually by the girl's parents, and usually because it goes against some pre-determined social standard for marriages (class, family, rivalry). I can actually concentrate on the Arabic language when the story line is so standard and predicatable.
And yet, despite all of this, what has really held my attention over the past 6 months is actually the commercial breaks and what they say about women's roles in Arab society.
My favorite one that took me months to figure out is a 45 second commercial clip. It opens with a woman sitting in the back of a luxury car dressed in her black Abaya being chauffered somewhere (setting - Saudi Arabia where women can't drive and thus are chauffered everywhere). The look of concern and worry on her face is attention-grabbing. That was what originally drew me into the commercial...."oh my gosh, this poor woman, what is so important that she is fretting with such concern?!" The commercial flashes to a digital clock in the car which says 11:59am. Scene change - inside a house where an unscarfed woman is putting a dish into the oven and glances at the clock...11:59. Then you hear the two women talking rapidly on their cell phones, "Where are you? It's time!" "I'm here! I wouldn't miss it!" The luxury car pulls into a driveway, the scarfed woman dashes out, into the house, the two women run breathlessly to a couch, sit down, and turn on the TV.....to watch a daily shopping channel. When I figured out the narrative of the commercial I was completely disappointed....all this worry so she wouldn't miss an hour of home-TV shopping?!
In fact, based on TV commercials alone, arab women engage in a limited number of activities - shopping, cleaning the house, taking care of the children, and cooking for their husbands....oh, and also worrying about their weight. You never see a woman in the workplace. You never see a woman doing something good for her community or children's school or country. You never see a woman dashing her children about to outdoor sports or education activities. The only time Arab women seem to be enjoying something for themselves alone is when they're shopping.
As I watched so little TV in the States I can't objectively say how much this differs from American commercialization of consumer goods. But I will not deny that the commercials on Arab TV fascinate me and make me feel as if I'm a voyeur into the life of the Arab version of the Stepford wife.
If I felt required to defend my TV-watching habits, I would say that it is an excellent medium for improving my Arabic comprehension. Especially any of the arab soap operas and movies - the romance is always forbidden - usually by the girl's parents, and usually because it goes against some pre-determined social standard for marriages (class, family, rivalry). I can actually concentrate on the Arabic language when the story line is so standard and predicatable.
And yet, despite all of this, what has really held my attention over the past 6 months is actually the commercial breaks and what they say about women's roles in Arab society.
My favorite one that took me months to figure out is a 45 second commercial clip. It opens with a woman sitting in the back of a luxury car dressed in her black Abaya being chauffered somewhere (setting - Saudi Arabia where women can't drive and thus are chauffered everywhere). The look of concern and worry on her face is attention-grabbing. That was what originally drew me into the commercial...."oh my gosh, this poor woman, what is so important that she is fretting with such concern?!" The commercial flashes to a digital clock in the car which says 11:59am. Scene change - inside a house where an unscarfed woman is putting a dish into the oven and glances at the clock...11:59. Then you hear the two women talking rapidly on their cell phones, "Where are you? It's time!" "I'm here! I wouldn't miss it!" The luxury car pulls into a driveway, the scarfed woman dashes out, into the house, the two women run breathlessly to a couch, sit down, and turn on the TV.....to watch a daily shopping channel. When I figured out the narrative of the commercial I was completely disappointed....all this worry so she wouldn't miss an hour of home-TV shopping?!
In fact, based on TV commercials alone, arab women engage in a limited number of activities - shopping, cleaning the house, taking care of the children, and cooking for their husbands....oh, and also worrying about their weight. You never see a woman in the workplace. You never see a woman doing something good for her community or children's school or country. You never see a woman dashing her children about to outdoor sports or education activities. The only time Arab women seem to be enjoying something for themselves alone is when they're shopping.
As I watched so little TV in the States I can't objectively say how much this differs from American commercialization of consumer goods. But I will not deny that the commercials on Arab TV fascinate me and make me feel as if I'm a voyeur into the life of the Arab version of the Stepford wife.
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