SAUDI TALES OF LOVE

Whilst Saudi Arabia is an international symbol of Islam, many Saudis would agree that there’s a strong disconnect between the Qur’an and local traditions. I wanted to answer question that many shared: Do we need marriage to signify that we have love? Do you need a husband to have a significant life?

My project, saudi love stories, began as a personal venture. With my marriage at the age of 17, and being a mother of two children at the age of 21, I knew I would surface in some way as a character exploring concepts of love and marriage in Saudi. But my teenage diary seemed to be a redline that I resisted bringing into the story. For the last 12 years, I blamed my marriage on my parents. I repeatedly questioned how they allowed me to marry at the age of 17, and why they never supported my need for a divorce later on. They had always argued that they never encouraged me to marry that young, and that their objecting the divorce was for the sake of the kids. I didn't understand them. I saw myself as being alone. But I was inspired by the empowered cross section of Saudi women who opened up their lives to me, and I finally faced my diary. So out came my dairies of the age of ten, and sixteen. Funny enough, I wrote in that personal journal till a few weeks before my marriage. I wrote how worried my parents were. And how my father was very skeptical of this young man. I was sixteen when my ex-husband proposed, and my pages were filled with stories of my teenage angst against my mother. I saw how I used the escape of her motherly love, as an escape to the arms of a man I didn't know...Hence, I wanted to be Shahrazad in a 1001 Arabian nights. A story teller of other misfortunes and romantic endings. I followed the stories of a widow, a happy marriage, twice divorced, and that of a young child—to name a few. I also delved into the many gems I shot from my wedding photography business in Saudi (with permission from my clients). I see the irony in being a divorced wedding photographer. But nevertheless, it was through these stories and from reading my own diary, that the project as a whole, gave me a sense of closure.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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When you finish high school, people start asking when are you getting engaged. When you're married, they ask when are you having a son. It's as if, the man you marry, and the man you bring to the world are the only reason for your existence.” Norah, fashion designer. Riyadh

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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My daughters often say "Mama, I never want to get married. I just want to have kids, like you" Seeing their mother go through a tiresome 10 year struggle for a divorce, they have a negative view of marriage. They love their Uncle Hamoodi. He takes them out, buys ice cream and watches films with them. How minor is his role in their lives, and yet the young girls think of it as grand…

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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“I married my college classmate in dental school. Sharing two children and a happy marriage, we finally bought our dream house. The day after signing the lease, he died in a motorcycle accident. Then, my father died. I was legally required to have a male guardian. I now wait for my son to turn 16 to take that role. Until then, my step brother whom I have never met decides on my behalf.” Mai, dentist. Jeddah

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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"I can't define what type of marriage I had for 18 years, but I know I suffered. He demanded our four children to move out of the home I had bought and built, to live with him alone. I had to agree. He also asked for a large sum, to divorce, and again, I had to agree. When the pain is too intense, you become numb. I remember weeping good bye to my children at the airport, and having to fly back home to see that the house was set on fire. I had lost everything…” Nada, 46 years old, Khobar, Saudi Arabia

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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“In Saudi, you can't marry a man who doesn't share the same tribal roots. Your uncles can go to court and have you divorced if they object that they don't see the marriage fit for the family name. It's happened to many, and I expected to be one of them. I took care of my dying mother as a teenager whilst my father had already remarried. I also worked instead of finishing school, to raise my siblings. Although I didn't expect a difference in nationality with my husband as a hindrance, it took over a year for the paperwork. My father, surprisingly, didn't object at the time. But he did warn me of the consequences. I don't regret the decision to marry, but I do realize that my Yemeni son won't have the same privileges as a Saudi.” Afrah, photographer. Jeddah

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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"During my last year of university in Jeddah, I attended friend’s wedding in Medina with my family. The bride’s mother was searching for a woman to marry her eldest son and a friend of hers would point out all the pretty girls dancing. I was sitting quietly in a corner and oddly enough I was the one that caught her eye." Najat is now the head of the Pediatric Surgery in the hospital. Her husband of twenty years is a famous local writer.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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“I consider myself so lucky. I wished my cousin to propose when I was a teenager, and he did. I wished to build a house beside the mountains and caves we used to hide our goats while we would play, and I did. And my eldest daughter, now 37 just got married to a doctor. I am a very lucky woman” Um Faris, Al Ula, Saudi Arabia.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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We were engaged and had signed the legal papers to celebrate the marriage after graduation...but, I found him cheating with his friend's wife. For some reason I felt ashamed, so I kept the reason behind our separation to ourselves. I remember sitting in front of the judge waiting for the finalized divorce papers whilst the judge looked at me disapprovingly and said: “had you been a better wife and stuck to looking after your home and husband you wouldn’t be here today”. The judge asked that we go seek counseling first ashwaq lives in her parents home in Bahrain.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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As the men congregate in a room with the Sheikh to sign the marriage certificates, the bride [second right] signs officiating her marriage. Although she willingly signs the papers, her legal male guardianship now transfers from her father to her husband.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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“I feel worse for my mother. She’s had to face society in shame, fearing for my life. It wasn’t her fault, and I don’t hold anyone responsible...but the day she referred to me as a woman, instead of a man, I knew I was leaving Saudi with peace” Kali was born as Khalid. Conflicted with what was accepted in the eyes of God and society, Khalid left Saudi Arabia to Italy. 20 years later, now fluent in Italian, Kali waits for asylum and hopes that her refugee statues will cover the cost of the transgender reassignment surgery.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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"I first met her on Twitter, then later in person. Wanting nothing but fun, she told me off... I met her again at an ice cream shoppe. She charmed me with her happy ice cream dance.” Raneen and Hisham were both previously married and divorced. Now married to each other, they realize their mistakes. "We didn't believe in love, and were too cynical. We also thought of marriage as a duty. After we stopped searching for the one, that’s when we met each other.”

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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Um Muhammed climbs a tree to cut off its dried leaves and later use them to turn into baskets, carpets and hats. Her niece, Um Hani, stands below and chastises her for being photographed. "Have you no shame? Your photo will make you the talk of the town!", to which Um Muhammed replies: "And then?" She pulls at a few ripe dates and throws a few at Um Hani.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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"My parents are divorced. My brother is divorced. My friends are divorced. Everyone I know who married out of love, isn't anymore in love. I got divorced, not once, but twice. After my divorce, I realized I needed to pursue my own happiness. I moved to my own place, painting each wall with my daughter. I only see her two nights each month. Divorced mothers get nothing. Not the money, not the children.” Ohoud, art director. Jeddah Ohoud alAdani, walks out of a grocery store at a private diving center.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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" I was 15; He was 18. It was after a train ride from my city to his, on our wedding day, that I met him. I relied on him, for everything. And, with time, we fell in love. The struggles of raising nine children bonded us." Najiba, housewife. My grandmother is 80 years old and my grandfather has dementia. He relies fully on her now, searching for her in every room when she's not in his sight.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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Mamdouh, Fatima’s father, is married to two women, and her grandfather is married to three. “I want to get married to have children, but I want to be the first and the only wife” Fatima stands next to her siblings that share the same father, but not all the same mother. Polygamy is common in Hail, and while her father and many other men assume that the women are happy to cohabit together, the reality is quiet different.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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"I never want to marry. Who else will take care of these children?!" Says thirteen year old Faisal [right]. His father taught him to drive at the age of five, but passed away the year after. Faisal now drives his mother everywhere.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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"You think any of us accept to be the first of many wives?! You think we sleep well, knowing our husbands are sharing a bed with another?!...But I will never let someone say I haven't raised my sons and daughters well. So when I found out my husband was marrying another woman, I asked my sons and daughter to take care of the wedding." Um Mahir sits in her living room around a home cooked feast, knowing that tonight is wife #3's round. Hail, Saudi Arabia.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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“People always have an opinion or something to say but my parents never used it as a reason to stop their daughters from pursuing an education or a career. Of course one day I will want to marry but I’ve not met the man I want to live the rest of my life with....Until then I shall continue studying law" Ghada was born and raised in Hail, graduated from Qassim and is currently applying to study for a Masters degree in England. She is a part of a handful of women who were able to leave Hail to follow their passion and complete their education. A year ago she also cofounded a business for horseback riding.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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“I I have seen sadness like no other…I was married at the age of 10. My husband, at the time older than my father, divorced me a year later after accusing me of being unfaithful. I was then married off at the age of 12, and had three children. He divorced me after he fell in love with another woman. At the age of 20, I was already married three times and had four children. I was finally lucky to have a good man marry me in my late twenties, and he was kind enough to raise the four children, and we brought more children together. I remember the day he died in my arms after fifteen happy years together.” Now in her 60’s Um Faris sells local spices and works as a natural healer. The money she makes “sometimes less than $100 a month” she uses to pay off the debt of marrying her sons.

© Tasneem Alsultan - Image from the SAUDI TALES OF LOVE photography project
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She’d not seen her mother since she was five years old, so Bushra agreed to her father marrying her off at the age of 15, in order to facilitate her non-Saudi divorced mother to be able to see her. In her early twenties, she had four children and was divorced without a man to pay for her. As a Highschool janitor, she would continue her education. Now a nurse at the local hospital, she has the total of six children and on the brim of her second divorce. I don’t want to study, to build, to raise, and then have a man steal everything from me each time…” Bushra is now 37 years old.

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