Aliya Saadeh

This morning, I woke up with a mix of excitement and relief, eager to pick up my repaired car. Last week's accident had left me shaken, but it also underscored the importance of the driving rights we women in Saudi Arabia fought so hard to obtain. I've cherished my independence since getting my license two years ago at the age of 21. Driving through Riyadh is more than just a convenience; it's a symbol of freedom and progress. The crash happened on a quiet road when a speeding car, driven by a reckless man, smashed into mine. He immediately blamed me, ranting about how women can't drive, and to my dismay, the police seemed inclined to believe him. I felt a wave of helplessness and frustration wash over me.

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, a woman approached from the sidewalk. She had witnessed the accident and had the foresight to film it on her cell phone. Calm and composed, she showed the video to the police, proving beyond doubt that the male driver was at fault. The driver's face turned red with embarrassment, but he still tried to argue his case. The police, however, had to accept the evidence and documented the accident correctly. I was immensely grateful to the woman who had come to my aid. We exchanged phone numbers, and I promised to stay in touch.

Today, as I drove my freshly repaired car to her house, I reflected on how much has changed in recent years. Despite the progress, incidents like my accident remind me that societal attitudes can still be a hurdle. When I arrived at her house, I honked lightly, and she came out with a smile. We headed out for dinner, and as we drove through the city, I felt a renewed sense of camaraderie and strength. Our dinner wasn’t just about food; it was a celebration of resilience and the growing solidarity among women drivers in Saudi Arabia.