An Egyptian Woman in Cairo

She refused to cover her long, curly black hair; she would walk with confidence and determination on the street. As a result, she was often the target of verbal and even physical harassment from Egyptian men, both shockingly young and disturbingly old alike. Her strong personality intimidated the men around her. She could almost be a foreigner in her own country. Egyptian machismo and misogyny was about power, domination and control, in a country where the majority have little control over their own lives.

One day I told her, “The next time a man says a bad word to you in the street you should ask him how he would feel if his sister, or daughter even, was spoken to in that way.” She laughed at my naivety. “They don’t care!” she retorted. “They would just laugh and continue making comments.”

“It’s not just me”, she continued. “Even women in hijabs face constant harassment.”

It was true. I would regularly witness verbal harassment against very modesty dressed Egyptian women, and often culturally sensitive/modestly dressed European and American women as well, in the crowded and anonymous streets of downtown Cairo. Here, in streets full of thousands of strangers, men could act like fools and say terrible things without facing retribution or shame from their neighbors back in the more insular districts of the city. Downtown is by far the most cosmopolitan area of Cairo, yet it is sadly a place where one sees the most blatantly ugly side of gender relations and sexual frustration in Egyptian society. As a man, albeit a “progressive Westerner”, it infuriates me that some men truly have no respect for any women and will use every excuse in the book (from religion to culture) in order to justify their behavior. I have even heard some arguments that men lack self-control and so thus, if a women is harassed, groped, or even raped, it will always be her fault and no one else’s.

Fortunately, there are no shortages of organizations, and even dedicated groups of women, that are determined to address this issue and fight the prejudice and harassment of women in Egyptian society. There is even a relatively recent project entitled “Harassmap”, which highlights areas in Cairo that are known for having higher incidents of abuse against women. It was created primarily as a resource for Arabic speaking Egyptian women, but it is also useful for foreigners (especially independent travelers and long-time residents) as well.

Sadly, Egyptian men in general are still far too slow in acknowledging a problem that “tarnishes their reputation”. Well, foreign women themselves have been warned for years about Egyptian men and their reputation for being inappropriate, to say the least, towards the opposite sex. No doubt that a female traveler who is fair skinned and blonde in particular will get a plethora of unwanted attention from local men, regardless of how modestly she is dressed.

But it is Egyptian women themselves who have to deal with this sort of behavior on a daily basis. They are the ones who bear the most suffering and humiliation. A recent 2010 Egyptian film, entitled 687, was the first to address this issue in the Egyptian cinema. It is a story of three Egyptian women who, after being victims of harassment in different situations, decide to take violent retribution against their perpetrators. I have yet to see the film, but it is already causing quite a stir in Egypt.

Although we all know that every Egyptian male is not a perpetrator of sexual harassment against women, innocent women cannot fight this battle alone. I say to all Egyptian men: speak out for the sake of your mothers, your daughters, your sisters, and your cousins.

One story, out of millions

I was almost apprehended by two plain-clothes officers in the middle of Tahrir Square, the now famous epicenter of the Egyptian popular revolts, one early afternoon last February. The cause of suspicion was that I was leaning against one of the railings that line the sidewalk with my backpack lying at my feet. This, including the claim that an important government minister was apparently being driven through the area, was reason enough to interrogate me on the spot in front of hundreds of Egyptians. The two officers stood on either side of me to prevent any possible escape. Not that I was considering running away. Generally fleeing from authority confirms guilt, plus there could have been five other undercover officers waiting for me at the end of the block.

“Bata’tak” (your id), one of them demanded. I wanted to ask for his first but, unlike back home in America, plainclothes officers in Egypt are not required to present their identification. Not that it mattered as I knew right away who they were. Both were wearing conspicuous leather jackets, the standard Egyptian police thug apparel. Trying to maintain my composure, I smoothly handed over my United States passport. The older and no doubt senior officer glanced over it with suspicion, as I was dark enough to pass for a regular Egyptian.

“American?”

“Yes”, I replied. Got it in one.

He then starting slowly flipping through the mostly empty pages of my passport (I had recently gotten a new one a few months before I arrived), as if biding time just to inconvenience me. The other officer simply stared at me in silence. All the while people were walking by, staring a bit, but then quickly looking away as if ashamed. A few of them looked at me with what appeared to be utter sympathy, but then they carried on. The shame of being publicly humiliated was almost worse than the prospect of interrogation in some dirty, dank basement room in the Mogamma building.

“What your business in Egypt?”

“I am a student learning Arabic here”, I replied coolly.

The officer stood in silence. Clearly his English language comprehension was limited. I pointed in the direction of the American University, whose downtown campus was thankfully right around the corner. “AUC”, I said. “Student.” That response seemed to suffice, although I’m sure the officers were disappointed that they couldn’t harass me more, or better yet hit me with a baton.

No doubt my experience was tame compared to what befalls countless normal Egyptian citizens on a regular basis. I was fortunate enough to have my passport and a convincing command of English. Needless to say most Egyptians are not so lucky to have a safety net when confronted by the Mukhabarat (the general Arabic term for secret police).

The point of my little story is that such experiences are a part of living in Cairo for millions of Egyptians. Indeed such instances are a reflection of the regime’s security apparatus that is in charge of maintaining “public order”, usually in the form of violent intimidation and arbitrary arrest and interrogation. Anyone can be stopped for any reason, even the most mundane such as standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Coupled with this is the reality that the Mukhabarat is often above the law, rarely being held accountable for their actions. In some controversial cases, such as the horrific public murder of Khalid Said in Alexandria, the officers in question are ‘tried’ but then quickly released with often nothing more than a slap on the wrist. In this culture of impunity, ordinary citizens live in fear of the Law. This fear has been broken as a result of the revolts that resulted in Mubarak’s reluctant resignation. Nevertheless, it remains to be seen what the future is for this deeply entrenched pillar of the regime.

Strangely enough I couldn’t even recall why I was standing in Tahrir square to begin with. But one thing I do remember all too well. As the officers were leaving, the one that took my passport took a few steps, turned around and smiled and said in English, “Welcome to Egypt”.

18 Days Later....

The people of Egypt have spoken! Mubarak is out and is now ready to join the Facebook group for retired dictators.

The Egyptian people have long been characterized, by themselves and by outsiders, as a mostly passive, docile people who have endured waves of invasions and authoritarian rule since the age of the Pharaohs. This capacity to endure hardship has largely served well the oppressive Mubarak regime over the last 30 years.

Yet in an unprecedented reversal, the Egyptian people used this capacity to endure to show the world that peaceful resistance, even in the face of violent pro-Mubarak mobs and inflammatory rhetoric by the regime, can break even the most stubborn of dictators. Through violence and intimidation, Mubarak hoped that the will of the people would be broken and that public opinion would turn against the pro-democracy protests. He used every tactic he could muster from the Dictator's Handbook, including violence, outright lies, and scare tactics, to convince Egyptians that Father Mubarak was their only hope for stability. He described the protesters in Egypt as being like children who did not know what they were doing, except hurting Egypt and its image. But this chastising rhetoric only served to inflame the protesters' passions even more.

In spite of the protests over lacking any identifiable leaders who could stir up the masses, people came to Tahrir square by the thousands, and hundreds of thousands, because each of them had a story to tell. Each and every one of them had suffered indignity and lived with the threat of violence at the hands of both the secret police and officers in uniform.

Credit first and foremost goes out to all the Egyptians who fought hard for their chance at democracy and freedom, as well as the hundreds who have been killed during this revolution. An online memorial, entitled "Egypt Remembers" , is dedicated to those who died and includes their photos and small biographies. The photos of the martyrs, as they are called by Egyptians, most of them young but from all economic and social backgrounds, shows the remarkable human side to this conflict. It is a heartbreaking but powerful testament to the losses and the gains that have characterized the last 18 days.

Right now, the energy and hope of the Egyptian people is beyond inspiring. It's a historic moment and event for the country and the world. For the first time, my Egyptian friends feel that the future is finally in their hands and that they have the power to make a difference in their own lives and the life of Egypt as a nation. This is a powerful idea that I believe any future leadership in Egypt must reflect on, as both a source of inspiration but also a cautionary tale of the dangers of repression. The strength and spirit of unity under hardship cannot easily be broken.

This will no doubt be a long and difficult transition to democracy. A new chapter, or perhaps even a new book, is being written in Egypt. Let us hope the Egyptian military, who played a largely neutral role in these events, will help ease the transition. There are certainly a number of military officials who were close to the Mubarak regime, and allegations of corruption are not uncommon. But let us not forget, the people of Egypt have said that they will accept nothing less than full and representative democracy. The constitution must be completely restructured to pave way for a more inclusive political path, which must include different parties and opposing viewpoints. Moreover, the overextended Emergency Laws in Egypt must be abolished. But all of this cannot be done without promoting education, jobs, and harnessing the power and energy of the younger generation who are Egypt's best chance at rebuilding itself.

Even the longest journey starts with a single step.

Thoughts on the Egyptian Revolution

"Oh governor do not tyrannize--the dominion does not last forever" - Arabic proverb

It was the eerie silence that permeated the room that first drew my attention to the issue of free expression in Egypt, something that I had taken advantage of in the United States my entire life. Three years ago I and a few other American students were sitting in a small room in Cairo with a group of young Egyptian students, exchanging thoughts and questions about our respective countries. We, the American students, were studying abroad in Egypt in what our university called a “Dialogue of Civilizations”, which focused on language study and cultural immersion.

One of the American students had rather innocently asked what the Egyptian students thought of their President Hosni Mubarak. The question provoked a nervous exchange of glances, a prolonged silence, followed by an eagerness amongst the Egyptian students to change the subject. I was surprised by this level of fear that Egyptians felt when the subject of their president and political oppression was addressed. I was inspired by this series of events to look at what tools the young people, both political and apolitical, are using to express their viewpoints and speak out against oppression.

Fast forward three years. These past couple of weeks I have been observing the uprising in Egypt with utter awe. The response from the Western world has been that of support for the bravery and determination of the Egyptian people in their fight for democracy, as well as the predictable fear-mongering from armchair observers, politicians, and others, about an Islamic theocratic takeover of Egypt should Mubarak step down immediately. There is little of the usual indifference towards the outside world.

The biggest obstacle to real change seems to be a general indifference amongst the international community and a general misunderstanding of young people in the Middle East. With this in mind it is understandable that many people in Egypt do not believe that America truly cares about freedom or democracy in the Middle East because the U.S. administration has failed to put pressure on authoritarian regimes that engage in strict censorship. But with the exposure of injustices against Egyptians that has been shown to the wider world, pressure can be put on governments such as the U.S. to push for real reform.

I found it disheartening that some of those who are often so quick to wave the torch of freedom and democracy are so quick to resort to skepticism and even down right nasty rhetoric when it concerns “Arabs” and “Muslims".

Individuals, who before last week had never even heard of the Muslim Brotherhood, are now busy conjuring up apocalyptic scenarios of an Islamo-fascist caliphate taking over Egypt or otherwise making poorly thought out comparisons to what happened in Iran following the 1979 revolution.

There seems to be very little effort to look at history beyond a specific date or historic moment. Moreover there seems to be little concern or understanding of the political and social environment that contributed to the Iranian revolution as well as the not so beloved theocracy that replaced the Shah. Many Americans seem unaware that in 1951 Iranians freely elected a progressive secular government headed by Mohammed Mossadegh, who in his short time in political office enacted many social reforms and also nationalized the foreign-owned oil interests, namely the Anglo-Iranian Oil company (now BP). In a not uncommon post World War II geopolitical maneuver, Mossadegh was overthrown in a coup engineered by the US and Britain in 1953. He was quickly replaced by the Shah who proved to be a reliable pro-Western ally. Just as under the Mubarak regime, the institutions of civil society in Iran were systematically repressed, leaving the mosque as the main social space in which the seeds of opposition could be sown.

As an organization, the Muslim Brotherhood was born in an era of turbulent Egyptian nationalism and calls for independence in the first few decades of the twentieth century. After several failed experiments at liberal democracy, for the Muslim Brotherhood and other Islamist organizations, the return to the traditional ethos of the Islamic faith was a means of redemption. The idea was that Egypt as a nation could only move forward and progress by returning to the glory days when the Islamic faith had the strength to spread its message from the deserts of Arabia to the Iberian Peninsula. This sort of historical revisionism and romanticism of the past can have dangerous implications for any ideology. The Muslim Brotherhood, however, has publicly renounced violence and expansionism in the name of Islam for decades now in Egypt, yet the organization remains the ruling party’s chief opposition. Historian and author Arthur Goldschmidt Jr. argues that the Muslim Brotherhood’s fundamental values had a historically valid point in that, “Thought best known for their attacks against Christians and Jews, as well as… motion pictures, bars, modern female fashions and other ‘Western innovations’… they were reacting against a century (or more) of westernizing reforms that had brought little benefit and much harm to the average Egyptian”. Any thorough and honest study of history would conclude that reactionary elements in a given society do not simply appear out of nowhere.

There is no real consensus in Egypt of the Brotherhood’s intentions. The Mubarak regime takes seriously the Muslim Brotherhood, precisely because it is the largest opposition group in the country and maintains support amongst a broader cross-section of society than any other group. That is why the regime has arrested much more members of the Muslim Brotherhood, and for long periods of time. But allowing opposing opinions to fester quietly in private would only encourage otherwise moderate members to use violence as a tool to get their voices heard. The Brotherhood now maintains an uncompromising stance against violence, and cannot allow it to rear its ugly head again if reservations fail to be expressed.

In a relatively short span of time Islam has come from being associated with not only the religion, but also a violent political ideology. Islam has become politicized.

Human rights observers, Middle East correspondents, have been warning of the consequences of political oppression on the hearts and minds of everyday people in Egypt and elsewhere in the region. Now these very same actors are telling the once indifferent and complacent world, “We told you so”. January 25^th was Egypt’s historic moment, but the reality is that this is a fight that has been raging for years in many small and not so small ways.

Just as these massive demonstrations began to explode in Cairo, I was in the process of writing and re-writing about my experience living in Cairo. I had hoped that my experience as a young person in Egypt would provide those outside the country with a better understanding of the many layers and complexities that characterize modern Egypt.

For many of the young Egyptians whom I’ve met and established friendships with, the strength and pride in who they are (whether Coptic Christian or Muslim) never once conflicted with their genuine desires for dignity, freedom of expression, and a yearning to live a life of meaning and happiness. Outsiders often misunderstand the strength of religious faith in countries such as Egypt, and are often eager to associate it with fundamentalism. In the aftermath of the bombing at the Two Saints Church in Alexandria, Egyptians of all stripes came out with signs expressing the solidarity between Copts and Muslims. The phrase “We are all Egyptians” (Kullna Masree’een), not more than a month ago, began as a call for religious tolerance and has now served as a rallying cry against the Mubarak regime.

I remember seeing a photo taken in Tahrir square during the first days of the protests of a little Egyptian girl who was balancing on a skateboard while waving an Egyptian flag. I thought that this beautiful photo represented what this struggle was all about. This was about the younger generation having a voice for the first time in their lives. The future happiness and prosperity of Egyptians was reflected in this little girl’s proud face, beaming with all the hope and aspirations of the youth.

Yet this revolution is not about Islam, America, or Israel. This is about Egyptians, particularly the young who have known no other leader but Mubarak, taking back their country from the selfish and egotistical regime that has stifled the nation’s development and progress under the banner of ‘stability’ and ‘anti-terrorism’. This is not a battle of ideologies. The right to freedom and dignity is a genuine human right, one that is shared by both Democrats and Republicans in the U.S., and secularists and Islamists in Egypt. Many protesters in Egypt neither identify as Islamist or secular, but they believe that only a fundamental change in the government structure can make Egypt a healthier and more prosperous place for all Egyptians.

As a young man who, as a resident foreigner in Egypt, has been harassed countless times by the country’s secret police force on the streets of Cairo, I can say that it is the worst feeling in the world to walk outside day and night fearing the very people who are supposed to be protecting Egyptian citizens. I would ask these politicians and other skeptics to put themselves in others shoes, and see why the Egyptian people are angry. To see why people in the region are tired of suffering and watching the rest of the world pass them by. This revolution transcends the stifling class, sectarian, and political divide in Egypt.

This is our moment to stand behind the Egyptian people and democracy and human rights. Because if this revolution fails, then it will create an environment ripe for fundamentalism and terrorism the likes of which we have never seen before. Indeed, extremist groups have been saying for years that the Western world is hypocritical and not interested in real democracy in the Middle East. When some in our media and government care more about the threat to Israel than the lives of 80 million Egyptians, then this sends the worst possible message to those who are fighting and dying in the streets of Cairo for even a taste of what we have here in the West. When conservative American politicians express cynicism towards these “Arab revolts” or outright urge that Mubarak stay in power in the interest of regional stability, then we can forget about our credibility as a nation that once stood up for the oppressed.

Let us shed our cynicism and stand for a better world...