Nov 2009
Walking in Someone Else's Choos
Filed in: Walking in Someone Else's Choos
A British court gave a suspended one-year sentence to a 26-year-old man whose shoe fetish prompted him to steal women's footwear.
Testimony during his trial in Inner London Crown Court revealed that Omar Abd-el-Gowad had moved to London to gain access to more fashionable footwear and soon thereafter he stole a single shoe from eight women to indulge in his sexual fetish, the News Shopper reported Sunday.
Judge Colin Smith gave the mechanical engineer a suspended sentence for two years, but also placed him under supervision for his fetish.
"I am quite satisfied you had absolutely no intention of harming the women physically in any way at all and you were being governed by the drive which was within you relating to your urge to get hold of the shoe," Smith said.
The newspaper said Abd-el-Gowad had testified that the thefts had given him an ecstatic rush and he never realized the impact his actions had upon the women he victimized.
"What I was reading was a description of someone I didn't recognize," he had said. "I had convinced myself it was quite a minor thing I had been doing."
April 19, 2007 UPI. Displayed by permission. All rights reserved.
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Bohemian Rhapsody in Sex Machines Museum
Filed in: Bohemian Rhapsody in Sex Machines Museum
PRAGUE
In Bohemia, one really should do as the Bohemians do.
by Rosie DiManno
I'm not quite sure how bohemian – as in unconventional and unorthodox and "untroubled by middle-class social standards," according to my Webster's Encyclopedic Dictionary – derived from that half of the Czech Republic that isn't Moravia. But the descriptor, apart from artistic and literary aesthetics, is commonly applied to a free love, hippy-dippy lifestyle: sex without inhibitions. If only.
It takes two (at least) to tango and I am wandering the streets of this sumptuous capital by myself, not exactly beating the men off with a stick. My regret is eschewing a more promiscuous adventurousness back in the day. Should have (insert expletive here) them all, as pithily expressed in a favourite birthday card. Anyway, this is all by way of explaining how I ended up at the Sex Machines Museum here, whilst I'd actually set out in search of culture, art galleries and such. But there suddenly was this come-on shingle hanging over the sidewalk and, inside an alcove, a gold-painted female mannequin sitting atop a tongue-studded wheel going round and round. Having visited similar establishments from Amsterdam to Shanghai – is that a kink in my crane-to-gawk neck? – the lure was irresistible. Besides, how often can a girl contemplate a jaw-dropping assortment of anti-masturbation devices while licking an ice-cream cone?
Further, this museum – opened in 2002 just off Old Town Square – has been morally condemned by city officials unhappy with its "disagreeable" content. Naturally, that made it even more popular with tourists. Much of what's on display is cheesy and of no historical value: props that could just as easily have been purchased at any sex toy shop on Yonge St. rather than pseudo-curated. A dildo is a dildo is a dildo, no? Yet there are, um, instructive bits that speak to the enduring mysteries of carnal desire and the just-as-enduring attempts to squelch such urges. Take this anti-masturbation gadget for boys. Please. From France, circa 1915, it involved an electronic ring being placed on a lad's penis that automatically switched on in case of an erection, the poor thing, resulting in a bell ringing in the parents' bedroom so that maman could rush in and slap the kid.
Conversely, from Germany comes (you should forgive the expression) a peddling appliance used on female inmates "for assuaging fervent feelings of some prisoners." If I recall correctly, this was the same unforeseen consequence – orgasm – that resulted in sweat shops where women churned out garments on old-fashioned pedal sewing machines. God bless I.M. Singer. There are body harnesses and "copulation tables" designed to facilitate inventive, even weightless, fornicating positions; apparatus for stimulating "penile, scrotal, anal, vaginal and clitoral tissue," including a pre-battery crank-up vibrator; wicked finger-spikes that Robert Mapplethorpe would have adored; "coercive" chairs for "absolute domination;" an Asian "Magic Box" palanquin with sliding peepholes so that the fee-paying public could look inside when prostitutes were borne about town; and – how to put this delicately? – throne chairs with a hole in the seat for face-up admiration of a partner's genitalia and golden shower convenience.
I will not comment on the S&M gear beyond observing that pain – well beyond hanky-spanky – is a long-established fetish for the human animal and its elicitation ingenious. But I am charmed by the ancient shoes worn by Greek prostitutes with "follow my steps" inscribed on the soles so that they left an imprint on the ground. Now that's clever.
Upon emerging from the museum, finding it necessary to atone for the voyeuristic indulgence – way down deep I must be Presbyterian – I take myself to a nearby exhibit of Salvador Dali photographs and lithographs, the central component of this show being Dali's woodcuts based on cantos from Dante's Divine Comedy. Maybe I've just got sex and seduction on the brain but, you know, both the artist and the poet – especially cross-pollinated – seem totally obsessed with the carnal way of all flesh, even if only allegorically. These woodcuts and watercolours – The Blind for Envy, The Lustful, The Punishment of Hypocrites, The Tree of Punishment – wouldn't be out of place at that other place. They were engrossed with the gross. So am I, perhaps. But the boho brat in me would still like to draw a Dali moustache on Dante's beloved Beatrice.
Sep 14, 2009 04:30 AM
© 2009 Torstar Syndication Services. Displayed by permission. All rights reserved.
In Bohemia, one really should do as the Bohemians do.
by Rosie DiManno
It takes two (at least) to tango and I am wandering the streets of this sumptuous capital by myself, not exactly beating the men off with a stick. My regret is eschewing a more promiscuous adventurousness back in the day. Should have (insert expletive here) them all, as pithily expressed in a favourite birthday card. Anyway, this is all by way of explaining how I ended up at the Sex Machines Museum here, whilst I'd actually set out in search of culture, art galleries and such. But there suddenly was this come-on shingle hanging over the sidewalk and, inside an alcove, a gold-painted female mannequin sitting atop a tongue-studded wheel going round and round. Having visited similar establishments from Amsterdam to Shanghai – is that a kink in my crane-to-gawk neck? – the lure was irresistible. Besides, how often can a girl contemplate a jaw-dropping assortment of anti-masturbation devices while licking an ice-cream cone?
Further, this museum – opened in 2002 just off Old Town Square – has been morally condemned by city officials unhappy with its "disagreeable" content. Naturally, that made it even more popular with tourists. Much of what's on display is cheesy and of no historical value: props that could just as easily have been purchased at any sex toy shop on Yonge St. rather than pseudo-curated. A dildo is a dildo is a dildo, no? Yet there are, um, instructive bits that speak to the enduring mysteries of carnal desire and the just-as-enduring attempts to squelch such urges. Take this anti-masturbation gadget for boys. Please. From France, circa 1915, it involved an electronic ring being placed on a lad's penis that automatically switched on in case of an erection, the poor thing, resulting in a bell ringing in the parents' bedroom so that maman could rush in and slap the kid.
Conversely, from Germany comes (you should forgive the expression) a peddling appliance used on female inmates "for assuaging fervent feelings of some prisoners." If I recall correctly, this was the same unforeseen consequence – orgasm – that resulted in sweat shops where women churned out garments on old-fashioned pedal sewing machines. God bless I.M. Singer. There are body harnesses and "copulation tables" designed to facilitate inventive, even weightless, fornicating positions; apparatus for stimulating "penile, scrotal, anal, vaginal and clitoral tissue," including a pre-battery crank-up vibrator; wicked finger-spikes that Robert Mapplethorpe would have adored; "coercive" chairs for "absolute domination;" an Asian "Magic Box" palanquin with sliding peepholes so that the fee-paying public could look inside when prostitutes were borne about town; and – how to put this delicately? – throne chairs with a hole in the seat for face-up admiration of a partner's genitalia and golden shower convenience.
I will not comment on the S&M gear beyond observing that pain – well beyond hanky-spanky – is a long-established fetish for the human animal and its elicitation ingenious. But I am charmed by the ancient shoes worn by Greek prostitutes with "follow my steps" inscribed on the soles so that they left an imprint on the ground. Now that's clever.
Upon emerging from the museum, finding it necessary to atone for the voyeuristic indulgence – way down deep I must be Presbyterian – I take myself to a nearby exhibit of Salvador Dali photographs and lithographs, the central component of this show being Dali's woodcuts based on cantos from Dante's Divine Comedy. Maybe I've just got sex and seduction on the brain but, you know, both the artist and the poet – especially cross-pollinated – seem totally obsessed with the carnal way of all flesh, even if only allegorically. These woodcuts and watercolours – The Blind for Envy, The Lustful, The Punishment of Hypocrites, The Tree of Punishment – wouldn't be out of place at that other place. They were engrossed with the gross. So am I, perhaps. But the boho brat in me would still like to draw a Dali moustache on Dante's beloved Beatrice.
Sep 14, 2009 04:30 AM
© 2009 Torstar Syndication Services. Displayed by permission. All rights reserved.
Female judges give Palestinian women hope
of fair hearings
Source: Globe & Mail
24/03/2009 4:50 pm
Judge Khuloud al-Faqeeh's biggest fear when she became one of the first two female Palestinian Islamic judges was that men would refuse to stand before her.
As in every Arab and Muslim country with the exception of Sudan, only men passed judgment in Islamic courts.
“They expect a man with a beard and a turban,” said Judge al-Faqeeh, smiling wryly from behind her desk as her hand made a circular movement above her cream-coloured satin head scarf.
Considered by many in this male-dominated society to be too emotional to serve as judges, women in Islamic courts were there to receive judgments, not to give them. The results were frequently unfair. But after the appointment of two women judges to Islamic courts in the West Bank last month, Palestinian women have begun to find an understanding ear – and more equitable judgments.
A graduate of Jerusalem's Al-Quds University with two law degrees, Judge al-Faqeeh is well aware of the need for women Islamic judges. For seven years she worked as an adviser at the Palestinian Women's Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling, advocating women's legal rights. Now, she says, she and her female colleague in Hebron, Judge Asmaha Wuheidi, are helping to uphold those rights in ways she could not as a legal adviser.
The Islamic courts deal with family-law matters such as marriage, divorce, child custody, child support and inheritance. But women, to cite just one example of the restrictions placed upon them, are often unable to discuss the reasons for wanting a divorce.
“Arab culture forbids talking of the intimate issues between a couple,” said Judge al-Faqeeh, dressed in a black robe with a sash in the colours of the Palestinian flag. “Even if [a husband] strikes his wife, she shouldn't tell.” But in the month since taking office, the mother of three from the village of Beit Rima has heard from women about an assortment of marital problems – including sexual ones such as impotence, violent sex, rape and the refusal by a man to have sex – “and it's her right, not just his.”
A woman would be unable to tell such things to a male judge, “so she would lose her right to a divorce because there would be no clear reasons,” Judge al-Faqeeh. “Talking with a woman she feels more at ease.”
Three couches surround the desk in Judge al-Faqeeh's office-cum-courtroom. A prayer rug lies over the side of one and the Palestinian flag hangs above another. On the wall across from her desk, law books line a set of shelves. Through the window, the Jewish settlement of Psagot acts as a constant visual reminder of the Israeli occupation under which she and her visitors live.
“Despite the fact that Palestinians are suffering from a difficult economic situation and from occupation, we are the first to have women Islamic judges, after Sudan, even though women in other [Muslim] countries have everything,” said Judge al-Faqeeh, pointing out that Jordanian law prohibits women from being Islamic judges.
Women across the Muslim world consider the Palestinian women judges a milestone for women's rights. But some disagree, arguing that Islamic law prohibits equality of the sexes. “This is just another way to impart the patriarchal structure and rules through women,” wrote one Muslim woman on a blog. “I think [these women] will become only robots to obey the sharia laws.”
Polygamous husbands are perhaps the most difficult problem facing Judge Wuheidi in Hebron, a city that is the butt of Palestinian jokes for being so conservative, particularly when it comes to women's roles. Many men from the region are married to more than one woman.
“The husband goes and marries a second and a third time and he neglects his first wife, as if she never was his life partner or that she has sons or daughters with him that he's also responsible for,” said Judge Wuheidi, who in 2003 became the first female Palestinian lawyer to specialize in Islamic law. She was often told that a woman “judges by her heart rather than her brain,” and could never serve as a judge.
Sheik Tayseer al-Tamimi, chief judge and chairman of the High Council of Islamic Law for Palestine, thought differently and decided last year that women could take the exam to become a judge.
“He said [the Islamic courts] need women the most, because the cases we receive are about the marital life and since a man needs a man to listen to him, a woman also needs a woman,” Judge Wuheidi said.
A key issue is child support. Judges usually ruled that a man must pay only 20-25 Jordanian dinars per child per month. “For me, I know you can't buy enough milk, diapers, clothes and medicine with 20 Jordanian dinars,” Judge al-Faqeeh said, proceeding to tell the story of a divorced couple who had arrived the day before to discuss child support.
“The man said, ‘I want to pay 200 shekels ($48 U.S.).' I said no. He said 250, I said no. He said 300, I said no. He said 400, I said no. He said, ‘500?'”
“I said, okay,” she said, recalling the story with a laugh.
ORLY HALPERN
16 March 2009
Article License: Copyright - Article License Holder: Globe & Mail
24/03/2009 4:50 pm
Judge Khuloud al-Faqeeh's biggest fear when she became one of the first two female Palestinian Islamic judges was that men would refuse to stand before her.
As in every Arab and Muslim country with the exception of Sudan, only men passed judgment in Islamic courts.
“They expect a man with a beard and a turban,” said Judge al-Faqeeh, smiling wryly from behind her desk as her hand made a circular movement above her cream-coloured satin head scarf.
Considered by many in this male-dominated society to be too emotional to serve as judges, women in Islamic courts were there to receive judgments, not to give them. The results were frequently unfair. But after the appointment of two women judges to Islamic courts in the West Bank last month, Palestinian women have begun to find an understanding ear – and more equitable judgments.
A graduate of Jerusalem's Al-Quds University with two law degrees, Judge al-Faqeeh is well aware of the need for women Islamic judges. For seven years she worked as an adviser at the Palestinian Women's Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling, advocating women's legal rights. Now, she says, she and her female colleague in Hebron, Judge Asmaha Wuheidi, are helping to uphold those rights in ways she could not as a legal adviser.
The Islamic courts deal with family-law matters such as marriage, divorce, child custody, child support and inheritance. But women, to cite just one example of the restrictions placed upon them, are often unable to discuss the reasons for wanting a divorce.
“Arab culture forbids talking of the intimate issues between a couple,” said Judge al-Faqeeh, dressed in a black robe with a sash in the colours of the Palestinian flag. “Even if [a husband] strikes his wife, she shouldn't tell.” But in the month since taking office, the mother of three from the village of Beit Rima has heard from women about an assortment of marital problems – including sexual ones such as impotence, violent sex, rape and the refusal by a man to have sex – “and it's her right, not just his.”
A woman would be unable to tell such things to a male judge, “so she would lose her right to a divorce because there would be no clear reasons,” Judge al-Faqeeh. “Talking with a woman she feels more at ease.”
Three couches surround the desk in Judge al-Faqeeh's office-cum-courtroom. A prayer rug lies over the side of one and the Palestinian flag hangs above another. On the wall across from her desk, law books line a set of shelves. Through the window, the Jewish settlement of Psagot acts as a constant visual reminder of the Israeli occupation under which she and her visitors live.
“Despite the fact that Palestinians are suffering from a difficult economic situation and from occupation, we are the first to have women Islamic judges, after Sudan, even though women in other [Muslim] countries have everything,” said Judge al-Faqeeh, pointing out that Jordanian law prohibits women from being Islamic judges.
Women across the Muslim world consider the Palestinian women judges a milestone for women's rights. But some disagree, arguing that Islamic law prohibits equality of the sexes. “This is just another way to impart the patriarchal structure and rules through women,” wrote one Muslim woman on a blog. “I think [these women] will become only robots to obey the sharia laws.”
Polygamous husbands are perhaps the most difficult problem facing Judge Wuheidi in Hebron, a city that is the butt of Palestinian jokes for being so conservative, particularly when it comes to women's roles. Many men from the region are married to more than one woman.
“The husband goes and marries a second and a third time and he neglects his first wife, as if she never was his life partner or that she has sons or daughters with him that he's also responsible for,” said Judge Wuheidi, who in 2003 became the first female Palestinian lawyer to specialize in Islamic law. She was often told that a woman “judges by her heart rather than her brain,” and could never serve as a judge.
Sheik Tayseer al-Tamimi, chief judge and chairman of the High Council of Islamic Law for Palestine, thought differently and decided last year that women could take the exam to become a judge.
“He said [the Islamic courts] need women the most, because the cases we receive are about the marital life and since a man needs a man to listen to him, a woman also needs a woman,” Judge Wuheidi said.
A key issue is child support. Judges usually ruled that a man must pay only 20-25 Jordanian dinars per child per month. “For me, I know you can't buy enough milk, diapers, clothes and medicine with 20 Jordanian dinars,” Judge al-Faqeeh said, proceeding to tell the story of a divorced couple who had arrived the day before to discuss child support.
“The man said, ‘I want to pay 200 shekels ($48 U.S.).' I said no. He said 250, I said no. He said 300, I said no. He said 400, I said no. He said, ‘500?'”
“I said, okay,” she said, recalling the story with a laugh.
ORLY HALPERN
16 March 2009
Article License: Copyright - Article License Holder: Globe & Mail
