Mai Abdo, an assistant principal and teacher in Jabal Mukabar, a Palestinian neighborhood of Jerusalem, had a dream for the teenage girls in her school that rankled some people in her religiously conservative community.
It sounded like a simple proposition: start a girls basketball program to promote fitness and build self-confidence.
Abdo knew she was bucking strong currents in the neighborhood, where strict interpretations of Islam dictated that adolescent girls steer clear of the basketball court, to avoid mixing with or being watched by men while wearing clothes deemed too revealing.
"My main priority was to break the stereotype that females must not and should not do sports activities," Abdo said.
But the project, begun early this year, was more than that. It was a challenge to long-held conventions regarding the roles of women and girls in the community. For some local residents, the sight of adolescent girls running and leaping on a basketball court was an indecent public spectacle, an affront to female modesty mandated by Islam.
There had never been a basketball program for teenage girls in Jabal Mukabar, or any other sports program for girls that age, whose place traditionally was seen as either in school or at home, helping with household chores and looking after younger siblings.
Abdo wrote letters to parents of girls who wanted to join the program, soliciting their permission. The school principal, Ghazi Souri, promised to take the heat from opponents. The idea, Abdo said, was to find allies who would make it easier to stand up to the inevitable criticism.
Parents were assured that their daughters would be in a girls-only program, that they would be modestly attired with long sleeves and sweat pants, and personally supervised by Abdo.
Rania Abu Shaaban, an energetic woman who recently graduated with a degree in physical education from Al-Quds University, was recruited to coach the girls.
Wearing a fashionable Islamic head scarf and sunglasses, Abu Shaaban asserts that observing the rules of Islam should not be an obstacle to women's participation in sports or any other activity.
"Our religion encourages us to take part in sports and to be active in all fields," Abu Shaaban said. "We can participate in sports within the bounds of religious law."
When news of the basketball program spread among parents in Jabal Mukabar, Abdo and Souri came under harsh criticism from some who complained that it was inappropriate for their teenage daughters to be running up and down a basketball court.
"The head of the parents committee was with me, but other parents whose girls were not in the program objected, complaining that we were setting a bad example by having the girls jumping up and down," Abdo recalled. "They always used those words: 'jumping up and down.' "
One man angrily scolded Abdo on the street, telling her that involving adolescent girls in basketball was against Islam and that she should set an example by being more observant and covering her hair.
Meanwhile, the girls permitted to join the program were thrilled, chipping in on their own to buy a basketball. Eighteen girls enrolled.
After failing to find sponsors in her neighborhood, Abdo, with the help of an Israeli teacher she knows, contacted PeacePlayers International, a U.S.-based group that uses basketball to bridge divides between young people in conflict zones around the world. Working with schools and community centers, the group sponsors mixed Jewish-Arab youth teams and basketball training sessions for Israeli and Palestinian youngsters.
"When I met Mai it was in the middle of our financial year and we didn't have the funding and manpower to find an [Israeli] partner for her school. But when we saw her girls, we knew that we couldn't turn these girls away," said Michael Vaughan-Cherubin, operations director for the PeacePlayers program in the Middle East. "There was no question that these were two very special women and a bunch of girls with a great need. Their options were zero. . . . These girls were crying out for this."
PeacePlayers provided basketballs and T-shirts, and Vaughan-Cherubin helped with coaching advice and other technical assistance.
Although the Jabal Mukabar school, which is attended by boys and girls, has high-quality outdoor basketball courts, the principal proposed that the girls practice in a small inner courtyard devoid of baskets and hidden by walls, out of the public eye to avoid controversy.
But that idea was quickly abandoned, and practices were held on the main courts, with a decision "to take the criticism and face it," Abdo said.
The first practice was held after school hours when people were passing by on their way home from work, provoking criticism from neighbors who objected to the girls training in public view. So to avoid further trouble, the practice was shifted to the first two hours of the school day, when the streets were generally empty and people were away at their jobs.
"Gradually it became somehow acceptable for them to play," Abdo said.
Abdo uses the basketball training to drive home messages of independence and self-reliance.
"Through basketball they see that they can do something with their lives and achieve their dreams and ambitions," Abdo said. "It gives them self-confidence and awareness of their abilities."
Abdo, who defied her father and brothers to live alone though she is single, said she talks to her students about the importance of completing their education, finding jobs and supporting themselves, rather than being married at an early age and falling into dependence on men.
The basketball program changed 14-year-old Islam Zuheika, who Abdo said had been depressed and withdrawn since her father died and her mother moved the family into a room in an uncle's house. Now the girl exudes an upbeat attitude.
"Before, if something was wrong, we would just keep quiet about it," Zuheika said. "Now we deal with it immediately. This is a breath of fresh air."
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