Marina Julia Neary grew up in Belarus (a republic of the former USSR) in a family of professional musicians who raised her in the spirit of Western individualism. Her mother taught piano at a music academy, and her father, a national laureate, was a prominent vocal coach whose students went on to becoming world-class opera singers.

In a society where individualism was ersecuted, Marina was frequently at odds with her peers and school teachers.

She found consolation in Catholicism ­ her Polish-born father introduced her to this religion - which was frowned upon by the predominantly atheistic government. At the age of 10 she began writing her first historical novellas. She did not dare to show those pieces to her teachers, because the ideas expressed in them went against the Communist grain.

In 1992 her family came to the United States.  Even though her parents got divorced shortly after, Neary was thrilled to be in a country where individual freedom was valued.  Her literary voice, much like her spoken accent, is a mixture of European, British and North American.

For someone who has symbolised courage and dignity in the face of personal tragedy, Mariane Pearl, the widow of slain American journalist Daniel Pearl, is currently busy producing a documentary on the lives of similar inspirational women.

Titled Resilient, it profiles women from around the globe who have battled war, abject poverty, sexual discrimination and tremendous odds not only to alter their own lives but also to transform the society in which they live.

"My work is an antidote to spread hope in a world haunted by fear," says Pearl in a telephonic interview from Paris.

The documentary traces the lives of women featured in Pearl's book In Search of Hope: The Global Diaries of Mariane Pearl.

One of Pearl's favourite story is of Fatima Elayoubi, a cleaning lady and a Moroccan immigrant in Paris, who found time after scrubbing floors to pen a memoir titled Prière à la Lune (Prayer to the Moon).

The book not only became a best-seller but also opened everyone's eyes to the harsh realities of the lives of immigrant workers in big cities such as Paris.

Click here to read the full story on Gulf News

An article about Charm, Grace, Elegance and Calm in the face of adversity.

Maria Assumpta Hodgson, (nee Rickard) died on the 12th of August 2009, following a rapid decline in her well being due to a failing Liver. It was the culmination of 3 years and 10 months as a beautiful woman dealing with the daunting challenges of living with and fighting Breast Cancer.

I am Maria’s husband Jeremy, and am writing this article from my apartment in Abu Dhabi, in the Breast Cancer Awareness Month of October 2009, which aims to highlight the need for women of the UAE to be ever more vigilant in the early detection and treatment of Breast Cancer. Maria shared her birthday with the National Day of the UAE, 2nd December.

To women of any location reading this, the view is from a close observer of Maria’s struggle, and from a person concerned for all patients receiving treatment for Cancer of any kind but especially for those women and their special ones aiming to survive Breast Cancer.

Posted by Denis Kase
November 1, 2009

I thought that the following very brief clinical, outline of a very sad, traumatic period that our family endured would perhaps be of interest

It is meant to portray the incredible strength / spirit and courage that my wife has in abundance.

Our son was an exceptional basket ball player who played in the Local comp.
His natural abilities soon had him in the town squad team and also the “Junior Pacers team,” representing the very best players in this district.

It was whilst coming home from a “Pacers” game in the city and traveling to local squad training that an accident occurred.

At approx 5.45pm on the 18th February 1996, while I was employed on an oil rig offshore the family car driven by my wife was struck by a train traveling at 87kph on a level crossing within a large town, killing our only 11yr old son/ child instantly.

Susan notes: World Pulse, a website dedicated to highlighting global issues through women's eyes, is running a series of stories by women citizen journalists; this is one of them.

I was moved to tears when I read Halima Mohamed Abdel Rahman's personal account of female genital mutiliation. I can't imagine the agony of this procedure. And the fact that older women continue to butcher young girls in the name of religion and tradition deeply saddens me.

Let's hope this inhumane practice is soon erradictated, although the full article doesn't offer much promise...

I remember being forced to lie down on three old mattresses: two stretched on an angareb (a wooden bed popular in Sudan); the other plied under my torso. My midwife Hajja sat on a low wooden stool. Our eyes met as she faced my naked body.

“Now you are a woman,” she said. “A real woman never cries. I will remove this dirt, and you will become clean, a real Muslim.”

There were several women around me during the ritual. Two took hold of my thighs, while two others firmly held my arms. Another sat behind me and put my head on her lap. With her right hand she covered my eyes. As she put her left arm on my chest, she must have felt my heart beating fast because she said, “Honor your father’s name. Don’t be afraid; this is not painful. You have seen your sister and your cousins. They did not cry.” I didn’t dare utter a sound as tears ran down my face.

“In the name of Allah Most Gracious, Most Merciful,” Hajja said. She raised her fat hand, ornamented with golden bracelets, and addressed the women around her. “Open her widely,” she murmured.