Al-Ahram Weekly 4 - 10 November 1999 Issue No. 454
Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875

A century after the publication of Qasim Amin's The Liberation of Women, Al-Ahram Weekly remembers the brightest star of the women's movement Reviled, revered, reveiled By Yasmine El-Rashidi

Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Features Profile Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters

They were women fighting for their freedom. They were known to be active and persistent, determined and intelligent. They were known for several things -- most prominently, perhaps, for their removal of the veil.

That was 76 years ago. Today, all the women of the Hoda Sha'rawi Association are, in fact, veiled.

Times have changed since Hoda Sha'rawi herself stormed the streets of Cairo. Instead of the Egyptian Feminist Union, there is a Hoda Sha'rawi Association -- a far cry from its far more outspoken, active and, yes, flamboyant predecessor. The Hoda Sha'rawi Association today, like any other Egyptian NGO, is registered with and partly supervised by the Ministry of Social Affairs. There is no longer an all-embracing national cause, in the midst of which women from all classes could fight for a space as full citizens; today, most people consider women's rights activists "extremists". The loud call for equality is now little more than a whisper, attributed to an educated minority with a so-called "Western" bias and "broad-minded" way of life.

In Egypt today, the term "feminist" has taken on something of the role it played in Victorian England -- assuming its place in the vocabulary of the leisured classes, but fading into practical obscurity for the masses, burdened by more immediate problems. In both cases, though, the term has retained mainly theoretical value -- its place, most seem to say, is in the pages of books, not out on the street.

Looking back at the early 1900s -- the days when Hoda Sha'rawi and her powerful entourage were engaged in full-fledged activism -- one can't help but wonder what they would have thought of Cairene women today.

22 Qasr Al-Aini Street, in the villa where Sha'rawi founded the Egyptian Feminist Union (EFU) in 1923, is where one would expect to find the epicentre of any call for women's rights. Instead, in the once grandiose, now sullen grounds, the director of the Hoda Sha'rawi Association, Farida Hussein, tells me that there is no longer any need for a women's movement. Today, she says, her smiling face framed by an attractive veil, "women have all their rights".

The dark yellow room where Hussein sits gives no hints that a women's rights group, or any NGO, has its headquarters here. In fact, except for a few tarnished medals in two lonely glass cabinets in the main hall, and one faded picture of Sha'rawi, the association bears no trace of its former incarnation. A large photo of President Mubarak greets visitors at the front door -- the only sign of any context, political or otherwise.

"Our concern now," says Hussein, "is to help poorer women. To help them help their families and help themselves." It is a noble cause, one to which Sha'rawi would be proud of giving her name. The tradition of charitable work, indeed, was cherished by women of her class.

Top, a tableau vivant of aristocratic ladies at a gala to raise funds for their charitable causes; Above, the first Egyptian women's study mission, departing for England in 1926

The association currently provides a dormitory service for young university women from other cities and districts, providing them with year-round housing, meals, and a full-time chaperone.

Even if the girls don't get into trouble, their governess still has her hands full with the nursery. In the garden where Sha'rawi, Ceza Nabarawi, Hawa Idris, Nabawiya Moussa and the other EFU members once gathered, there is now a teeming mass of three-, four- and five-year olds -- another service offered to the less privileged.

Hussein points out the library, filled with documents and books of and about the women's liberation movement. To liberate women from a life as unskilled, uneducated workers, too, the association offers sewing and knitting classes, literacy training and a play area for orphans. The grand plan is to build an orphanage on the grounds within the next year or two.

"Every era has its goals," Hussein says. "At the time of Hoda Sha'rawi, women had no voice. Now they do, so we are helping poor women instead."

In a way, Hussein is right. Women today have seats in parliament; they have a place in businesses and offices. Not all wear the veil of the old days -- the veil that covered their faces too. Yet the veil is back with a vengeance. Mothers and daughters alike are covering up in what seems to be a frenzy of piety.

"It is our duty as Muslims," Hussein says shortly. "This is what God has asked us to do."

Does this conviction constitute the acceptance of all that Hoda Sha'rawi and her comrades in arms rejected? The story is well known. On that fateful day in 1923, upon their return from a feminist meeting in Rome, Sha'rawi and Nabarawi removed their face-veils. Would young women today even think of performing such a symbolic act? More to the point, what would they achieve? Would it be any more likely for women of all classes to unite and march down the street, protesting their shared oppression? Today, the Hoda Sha'rawi Association has changed its focus. "We don't involve ourselves in personal matters," Hussein says. "If a woman is wearing a full face-veil, we don't say anything -- it's something personal."

In 1924, the women's rights activists marched down Qasr Al-Aini Street, past the American University in Cairo, and up to the gates of the just-inaugurated parliament. Their firm steps rang out, as if to mark the rhythm of their disapproval. These women had a cause, a belief, and a vision. With that in mind, and with unshakable conviction, they pursued their cause unwaveringly.

Perhaps Sha'rawi herself made all the difference. She made each of the women feel involved, and important. She gave them a reason to believe.

In her memoirs, Harem Years (translated by Margo Badran), Sha'rawi wrote:

"Exceptional women appear at certain moments in history and are moved by special forces. Men view those women as supernatural beings and their deeds as miracles. Indeed, women are bright stars, whose light penetrates dark clouds. They rise in times of trouble when the wills of men are tried. In moments of danger, when women emerge at their side, men utter no protest. Yet women's great acts and endless sacrifices do not change men's views of women. Through their arrogance, men refuse to see the capabilities of women. Faced with contradiction, they prefer to raise women above the ordinary humane plane instead of placing them on a level equal to their own."

Have things changed all that much? Although many today believe that women have been given more than their fair share, a few lone voices still insist that we should demand more. A handful of activists continue to emphasise the importance of equal say and equal treatment.

"There was a programme on TV the other night," one young university student says, "and a religious scholar -- a woman -- was saying that a woman's sin is graver than a man's! It's infuriating to hear it from someone in her position. No wonder we are where we are today."

The young woman and others like her believe we need a role model, an aim -- a reason to believe: "someone to stand up and say that we are women in our own right; we have ambition, feelings, and dreams of our own."

The problem is that it is the less privileged women that are seen as needing "help". Perhaps they do not want it, although surely no one would dispute the fact that better working conditions, better child-care facilities, more equal conjugal relations would be good things, in and of themselves. Today, however, it is more difficult to speak of women -- 50 per cent of the population -- as having specific rights and demands of their own. Today, the battle lines have shifted.

The dominant ideology has brought millions together, given them a sense of identity; but it could do more good than that. It is difficult to avoid feeling that, if all women were to unite, they would be able to achieve what Sha'rawi did in her time, or more.

Hussein believes there is no cause for such an uproar. But have women come to accept the idea that to be unveiled is to invite comments and stares?

"I want to be able to walk down the street without being harassed," the young university student says. "I want to be able to go out without hearing the whistles and catcalls."

Maybe Egyptian women today need a new Hoda Sha'rawi, with a new message. Then again, perhaps we don't need a leader at all -- just a sense that we are all in this together.

	weeklyweb@ahram.org.eg