Enough rights?

In commemoration of Egyptian Women's Day tomorrow, female festivities are in order but what, asks Dena Rashed, do young women have to celebrate?

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illustration: Wagdy Habashy

No doubt there are many reasons to be pleased as a woman in Egypt now, but there are equally many reasons to be gloomy. This came to my attention while watching a talk show about the first woman judge, when a male friend remarked, "haven't you had enough rights?" Though addressed to me, the "you" obviously had wider significance. It was the beginning of a rant in which he cited many examples of rights garnered by women: khul' (the legal right to divorce against the husband's wish, granted only if a woman is willing to give up her financial rights), the right to pass Egyptian nationality to a child whose father is not Egyptian... "But what," I fielded, "is 'enough'?" The ensuing, heated debate was long and arduous; no doubt it wasn't all that different from ones that took place at the turn of the century, or indeed ones that will take place in 2100. Is there such a thing as "enough rights"? Indeed are women's rights in Egypt now in any sense sufficient for a sense of justice?

"Men don't understand that every woman has different capabilities," says Nariman Mohamed, a mother and a housewife who wears niqab. "If a woman wants to assume a high position, then she'd better have what it takes before she tries. It's like applying for a job. If you're not good enough you just won't get it." Nor, she says, is it simply a question of rights, the ongoing struggle for which is the focus: "I'm against generalisations about women's rights." The rights being lobbied for are not all that is required: there are those looking for rights inside their homes, and those who are looking for them outside; each case is different. The one point she is willing to generalise is that women should have more respect in public -- on the street, or at an official bureau. Men are no longer chivalrous, she complains: they elbow her to cut a queue, and notwithstanding her face cover they make inopportune comments: "if even I get comments on my ears, with no part of my face showing -- well, I can only feel for other women." And, being a car owner, she feels especially for those who must take public transport: "even that is a struggle -- for rights."

Indeed: Sabah Ismail, 25, though she wears hijab, finds her daily experience of public transport a grind: "I can get pushed aside by a man because he wants my seat on the minibus. I get harassed for no reason." Though she drives, Passant finds it hard to walk on the street: "it's hell -- the worst is when it comes down to physical abuse, but there's enough verbal harassment while you drive or walk to make you never want to go out. I don't find any reason at all to celebrate on Women's Day." Likewise Reham Mahdy, 30, a mother who works: she finds that, while women have been granted rights formerly denied them, "the manners with which they are treated have gone downhill." Lamia Hamed, 32, who works in advertising, agrees: it is funny, she says, that for every right gained by women, another has slipped away from them. "It's reassuring," she says, "that women can realise themselves nowadays; the irony is, no matter how much status a woman achieves, she will never be safe from verbal or physical abuse on the street." An attractive woman, Hamed is nowhere near as gentle as she looks, now that she has learned the hard way: "a woman has to be tough and aggressive while driving or walking, even in the workplace; otherwise she's trampled on. Wear that mask -- you'll do well."

For their part men, like the present interviewee, who prefers to remain anonymous, complain of an overwhelming number of women on the streets who drive even more aggressively than men. How, he asks, might they expect gentlemanly treatment? "If you push men to treat you as a peer, there can be no 'ladies first'." As Mohamed points out, it is a vicious circle: the more defensive women become, the more aggressive men are, and vice versa -- something even more evident at the workplace. Prior to taking the niqab, Mohamed, who had studied law, had tried her hand at the job, but quickly discovered that, no matter how much legal aptitude she had, without "the aggressive male attitude" she could not survive in that profession, something friends and family had drawn her attention to. Others, like Passant, persist: "gender stands in the way of getting a promotion at the private company where I work, but I will not give up." Hamed takes this even further: "because I am a woman, I have to show more strength. If my male colleagues don't fear and respect me, I won't make it."

For her part Ismail, a computer science graduate, feels that, however much they achieve, women still have a hard time finding and keeping a job. Said agrees: "women are lawyers and doctors, now they can be judges, but I've seen how people will favour an incompetent male lawyer over a competent female one. It's no joke." Is the picture so completely bleak, however? Mahdy thinks not: "still, I think women are doing well; when you approach people in a nice way that makes life easier for everyone." Mira Yehya, 23, a nursery school teacher, is even more philanthropic: legislation has made life easier for educated privileged women, she says, but think about "low-income families, who must endure public transport -- it's them we should be looking out for". Indeed in low-income neighbourhoods, women are often the sole breadwinner in the household, yet men still expect them to have no voice. As Um Mohamed, one such case in Giza, a mother of six, explains, "there are many poor women who spend their lives working outside and inside their homes, and they simply need appreciation, they need to hear words of gratitude from their husbands." Whether it is a case of respect in public or private acknowledgment of debts incurred, the issue is the same: rights notwithstanding, it is attitudes that need to change, and change radically.

Ismail put it eloquently: "A man who kills his wife for adultery will get a light sentence if he is punished at all, but a woman who does the same will be charged with manslaughter and jailed. Why is it okay for a man to defend his honour but not for a woman to defend her dignity." She concurs succinctly: "I wish to be treated as a human being, regardless of whether I am a woman or a man."