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The first thing she told me was to record our phone call, so I recorded the call with my i Phone as we spoke. Now he was tweeting about the men surrounding my door. “Manal,” she said calmly, “I want you to do something. It will bring them shame if we announce that they’ve taken you from your house in the middle of the night. We should expose them.” I didn’t like the idea of going with these people. The man on the other end assured me, “This guy works for us.I didn’t want to leave my son and I still didn’t know exactly who was outside. He will escort you to the police station.” My brother insisted upon accompanying me as well, although all the men outside wanted me to go alone, without him, which should have convinced me that something was wrong. I started covering myself with abayas and niqabs before it was even required, simply because I wanted to emulate and please my religious teachers.Startled, my brother jumped up and rushed to the entry. The specific citation was “driving while female.” My brother had been sitting beside me, in the passenger seat, and then had sat next to me again for five hours inside the Thuqbah traffic police station, a two-story, nondescript concrete government building with a sturdy fence all around and a detention room where drivers could be held for hours or even days.I stayed slightly behind, feeling the night air rush in as he pulled open the door. There was only one detention space in the station, and it was only for men.I learned the proper rules of driving when I was working and living in the States — I got a New Hampshire and then a Massachusetts driver’s license.
He urged both men and women to avoid the pitfalls of sin, which violate religious codes of conduct.Many agreed with Al-Mutlaq, saying his point of view is similar to that of the late Sheikh Abdullah ibn Jibreen, who forbade Muslims from chatting with strangers on the premise that such exchanges would lead to temptation, and ultimately, sin.powered ministers and businessmen last week.) But activist women have been campaigning for the right to drive for years.As soon as I heard the words “Dhahran police station,” I was terrified. From behind the door, my brother began pushing back. I didn’t know if the men could force open the door and come in and take me. A man on the other end of the line assured me there was no warrant for my arrest. This call was from Kholoud, a women’s rights activist, who had already been tweeting about my arrest the previous afternoon.My brother slammed the door shut and locked the bolt. I still didn’t even know exactly who “they” were, but I realized I had to tell someone what was happening. I’d reached out to her when I’d first become interested in proving that women could legally drive. In the confusion, I didn’t know that at that very moment one of my colleagues from Aramco, Omar al-Johani, was hiding behind a bush very close to my house.