When Egyptians overthrew their dictator in 2011, one of the first celebratory acts in Tahrir Square included the gang beating and sexual assault of American journalist Lara Logan, who, like the Dutch journalist, landed in the hospital.
The Logan rape has always
been portrayed as another unfortunate byproduct of mob violence. In
fact, it was much more than that. It was a warning shot fired by men
whose political beliefs are founded on a common pillar: Women must stay
out of the public square.
One of the hallmarks of
revolutionary victory in Tahrir Square has always been rape and sexual
harassment. Mobs of men routinely set upon women, isolating, stripping
and groping. No one is ever arrested or held accountable, and elected officials shrug their shoulders and blame the victims.
Vigilante groups have
been organized to track the incidents. Operation Anti-Sexual Harassment,
one of the groups, recorded 46 cases of sexual assaults and harassment
against women on Sunday night alone -- and has added 17 more to its list that the group said happened Monday.
Egyptian women are the
primary victims of sexual violence, and ultimately they are the intended
recipients of the message: Stay home, your input in government and
politics is not wanted.
Raping foreign
journalists -- guaranteed to attract global attention -- is merely a
more efficient way of getting that message across.
When Egyptians overthrew
the dictator, the Muslim Brotherhood took advantage of public hatred of
the dictator to ally him with Western progressive ideals, including
gender equality. Out went the nongovernmental organizations that worked to make divorce easier and inheritance laws fairer. In came the thugs who stripped and beat women in the streets.
Granted, some of these crimes against women were committed by the military and the police themselves, as women like Mona Eltahawy (a journalist whose arms were broken by soldiers) and Samira Ibrahim (a young protester who sued the government, accusing an army doctor of submitting her to a forced "virginity test") have reported.
Dina Zakaria, an
Egyptian journalist, reported that the men who raped the Dutch
journalist last week called themselves "revolutionists." That label
should surprise no one.
If one fervently
believes women should stay inside their homes and out of the business of
public life, what better way to accomplish that than rampant sexual
harassment and sexual assault in a country in which women's virginity
and honor is the sine qua non of female participation in society?
Egyptian Salafist preacher Ahmad Mahmoud Abdullah said that women
protesting in Tahrir Square 'have no shame and want to be raped.'
Nina Burleigh
Nina Burleigh
Not long ago, Egyptian
Salafist preacher Ahmad Mahmoud Abdullah said that women protesting in
Tahrir Square "have no shame and want to be raped." The public face
of the Muslim Brotherhood would never espouse such a statement. But its
founding intellectual lights never hid the fact that a pillar of their
planned theocracy was keeping women powerless. And their record in
office is one of sexist exclusion. Women held only eight seats out of 498 (four of the eight women were from the Brotherhood party) in the disbanded Parliament.
Women made up 7% of the
constitutional assembly that drafted the Egyptian constitution. No
wonder then that the document (approved by referendum in December 2012)
refers to women only as sisters and mothers, and only within the
framework of family -- not employment or public life, even though a
majority of Egyptian women work.
Egypt has always been a place where life for women is nasty and brutish, if not short. Last
year, a UNICEF survey showed 91% of Egyptian women between the ages of
15-49 said they had to undergo female genital mutilation. The United Nations Entity for Gender Equality in May reported that 99.3% of Egyptian women interviewed said they had been subjected to some form of sexual violence. Rape
victims almost never go to the hospital and certainly not the police.
There are no medical protocols for rape, and police treat female victims
as prostitutes.
Whether or not that
violence is political is worthy of discussion. I believe it is. At the
moment, no one even debates it. It is the elephant in the room.
As the Egyptian
revolution enters another chapter, and more women get stripped and
sexually assaulted in the streets while being systematically excluded
from the halls of power in Cairo, it is high time for American
progressives and other Arab Spring commentators to stop separating
anti-female violence from the politics of the Muslim Brotherhood's
revolutionaries.
In the broadest sense,
the West's response to the treatment of women in post-Arab Spring
countries, from Egypt to Syria, says a lot about the status of women
here.
We might not be able to
do anything to stop violent, organized misogyny in far-off lands, but we
can certainly stand up for our own principles and call it what it is.
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