3 roads to patriarchy — 3 roads to freedom

Road One

I was walking away from a protest at Saad Zaghloul Square on June 30 when I overheard two men heatedly engaged in a joint tirade against what one of them called “accomplices of the Muslim Brotherhood” spreading rumors about sexual harassment in Tahrir Square. I had not reached Tahrir Square that day, purportedly because of the impossibility of walking past the crowds on Qasr al-Nil Bridge, but mainly because I was scared.

I had participated in similar marches from Mostafa Mahmoud Square towards Tahrir Square at practically every such call by revolutionary movements to demonstrate since January 25, 2011. Yet the time I spent in Tahrir Square had dwindled significantly over the past year until June 30, when I was resolved not to step foot in that area.

I had tried to control my fears of mob sexual assaults in Tahrir Square by calmly urging my fellow female demonstrators to stop at Saad Zaghloul Square on the pretext that I was tired and that the square was already full. The pilgrimage of freedom can reach other spots in the city, I said. “Why not join the sit-ins at the presidential palace in Heliopolis instead?” I suggested to my friends the following days.

… 

While the relegation of mob sexual assaults to rumors and of those speaking of them to Muslim Brotherhood conspirators was widespread, the number of sexual assault cases reported by Operation Anti-Sexual Harassment/Assault (OpAntiSH) and Tahrir Bodyguards reached 46 on June 30 alone. A statement released by these rescue groups clearly expressed their denunciation of the “exploitation of these assaults by the presidency under Mohamed Morsi and the Muslim Brotherhood” and pointed out the legislative and executive authorities’ previous insistence on blaming the women for the attacks.

There is no need to get into the details of the assaults; the horrific descriptions by survivors and OpAntiSH volunteers as well as the gravity of the physical and mental harm the women are subjected to have repeatedly and adequately been brought to public attention. Feminist and human rights groups and several media outlets have repeatedly addressed them and the threats facing female protestors by state and non-state actors during demonstrations and sit-ins since February 2011. Despite the fact that the number of assaults is astounding (reaching over 100 within two weeks of the onset of the June 30 protests), this crime seems not to generate the pubic engagement necessary to address such a massive blow to women’s right to their city and the underlying structure that makes such forms of violence not only possible but, as recounted by survivors, popular among some passersby.

Why does public opinion insist on discrediting reports from OpAntiSH and other national and international human rights organizations of sexual violence in Tahrir Square, particularly from June 30 onwards?

Road Two 

As the number of sexual assault cases rose, I joined yet another march to Tahrir Square, only this time the protestors took off from the Gezira Club in Zamalek. The crowd that gathered in front of this exclusive upper-class location was significantly different from most crowds I had previously marched with towards Tahrir.

Not only was the number of women participants significantly higher than the number of men, but also a good proportion of the women were joining the marches completely on their own or with other women. This was in striking contravention to the norm that prescribes women’s need for male guardianship in such public spaces. A conservative dress code also seemed to have been rendered unnecessary among this group of protestors: women from liberal social backgrounds appeared in their ‘regular’ attire, not bothering to ‘cover up’ to conform to the expected decorum of women roaming the streets in Egypt. These female demonstrators seemed so peculiar walking over Qasr al-Nil Bridge that I spotted two young men genuinely asking passersby, “Where are these people coming from?”

That day I reached Tahrir Square. I kept my guard up, though, and would not dare to walk freely around the square as I used to, for fear of being physically violated in one form or another.

Unless, of course, if I chose to join yet another exclusive group of protestors: the shielded women’s circle!    

Road Three

With the escalation of violence against women, particularly in and around Tahrir Square, new forms of gender segregation have emerged to ‘protect’ female protesters. For quite some time now we have seen male protesters forming human shields to encircle female demonstrators and protect them from harassers.

Following the scheme of gender segregation adopted regularly by Islamist protestors in sit-ins and demonstrations, women in Tahrir Square from June 30 onwards were allowed a safe zone free of men in front of the main podium. A clearly-defined barrier separated the space designated for women from the flow of protestors around them. Unlike their counterparts in the class-segregated demonstration on the other side of the square, the women in the safe zone were mostly veiled and conservatively dressed. I could not reach them, but heard their voices loud and clear through my TV set as they dominated the chants broadcast from Tahrir Square.

…

Whether we walk inside the male circles formed around female protesters or in the class-shielded Zamalek march, or indeed refrain from setting foot in Tahrir Square altogether, the growing threat to women’s safety increasingly and effectively prevents our enjoyment of basic rights to movement and political participation.

Efforts that aim at making it possible for women to safely participate, do so, unfortunately, through reproducing the very same patriarchal structures that subjected women to such acts of sexual violence in the first place. Such efforts create a situation in which women have to freely deny themselves the right to enjoy an activity that — by definition — involves one’s integration with a general and relatively random public identified through common political goals only. Whether they participate through male ‘protection’ or chose not to take part in public rallies, the result is that women participate in the reproduction of their own marginalization.

There is a dire need for a more comprehensive strategy and for enduring mechanisms to combat such infringements on women’s basic human rights in Egypt: an approach that recognizes the interrelated causes and consequences of mass sexual assaults in public squares and domestic violence; of sexual harassment on the streets and that in the workplace; of female genital mutilation and an array of social and legal practices that make such violations not only possible but also self-perpetuating.

In the meantime, the roads to Tahrir remain blocked to women.

The most recent sexual harassment tragedy took place during this Eid celebration, after this article was written. One girl was reportedly killed in Tanta after being run over by a car while fleeing a sexual harasser who was driving.