The highly polarized debate over the status of Arab women overlooks the fact
that men can be victims of the patriarchy too, and that the identity of Arab men
is a battlefield in the cultural war between East and West.
“Why do they
hate us?” was the controversial question posed by the Egyptian-American
columnist Mona Eltahawy in the hotly debated May/June issue of Foreign Policy
magazine. “Until the rage shifts from the oppressors in our presidential palaces
to the oppressors on our streets and in our homes, our revolution has not even
begun,” writes Eltahawy. “Name me an Arab country, and I’ll recite a litany of
abuses fueled by a toxic mix of culture and religion.”
Although
Eltahawy’s essay is, sadly for Arab women, factually accurate and I agree with
almost everything she says, I find myself differing with her about what she does
not say.
To borrow her own words, Eltahawy’s essay, despite the
substantial space available to her, does not move beyond reciting a long “litany
of abuses.” She makes no attempt to depict the complexity of the situation and
highlight the gray areas. Largely missing from her analysis are the diverse
shades of opinion and attitudes across the Arab world, and the very real gains
made by Arab women in many countries, especially in the professional and
educational spheres.
As a long-time admirer of Eltahawy’s journalism and
activism, I find it hard to fathom why liberal, empowered Arab women who have
challenged discrimination in every walk of life hardly feature in her article,
though she does mention some who have resisted the abuse of “virginity tests”
and forced marriage, or defied the Saudi ban on female driving.
Her
loaded “why do they hate us?” question also turns a blind eye to a highly
inconvenient reality for advocates of gender equality like myself: many Arab men
and women do not regard traditional gender attitudes to be a sign of hatred, but
rather of love and respect.
In an interesting turning of the tables,
conservative Arabs are reciprocating the Western interest in the subordinate
position of Arab and Muslim women by setting up think tanks to examine the
“oppressed” status of the Western woman.
Weird, you say? Yes, until you
consider that many conservatives in the West hold similar views of their
societies, as reflected by the recent so-called “war on sex” launched by many of
the candidates in the Republican primaries. And I’m sure many haredi
(ultra-Orthodox) women in Israel do not regard a “dignified” dress code or the
erasure of women’s faces from billboards or de facto gender segregation on some
buses, with women forced to sit in the back, as signs of their
inferiority.
In fact, you could say that one major factor behind the
patriarchal order’s durability and longevity, which survives to some degree even
in the more egalitarian West, is its ability to co-opt and condition certain
women into accepting and even embracing the status quo and linking the status of
some women to the oppression of others.
THIS BRINGS me to another breed
of Arab men completely absent from Eltahawy’s essay: those who believe in
women’s rights and have stood shoulder to shoulder with women in their quest for
(greater) equality.
In fact, perhaps the first advocate for greater
rights for women in Egypt was Qasim Amin, who predated Eltahawy more than a
century ago in his The Liberation of Women (1899).
“Throughout the
generations our women have continued to be subordinate to the rule of the strong
and are overcome by the powerful tyranny of men,” he wrote. “The inferior
position of Muslim women is the greatest obstacle that prevents us from
advancing toward what is beneficial for us.”
It would also seem that just
as women have become a political football in the culture war between a hegemonic
West and a defensive Arab world, it is my view that men have, too. Western
discourse, especially in conservative circles, tends to focus on the Arab man as
a woman-hater or terrorist, ignoring the liberal breed of Arab men I mentioned
above. Meanwhile, in a supposed bid to defend their culture against the
onslaught of modernity, as well as to protect the patriarchal privileges they
enjoy, conservative Arab elites talk up traditional gender roles and mock and
demonize men who deviate from them as either weaklings or Western
stooges.
Moreover, one factor behind the enduring presence of patriarchy
in the Arab world is what the academic Deniz Kandiyoti called the “patriarchal
bargain” in which the Ottomans, British and French bought the submission of men
by offering them absolute power over women. Arab dictators like Hosni Mubarak
have played similar tricks. As one Egyptian feminist put it to me: “If you can’t
control your income, the fate of your family or the politics of your country,
then you will try to control what you can, that is the private
sphere.”
In addition, though women are the traditional patriarchy’s
greatest victims, many men suffer too. After all, the patriarchal order is in
place primarily to serve the interests of the top dogs, the alpha males, with
the beta and gamma males often oppressed severely, as the beatings and rapes of
young male protesters in Egypt clearly illustrate.
Traditional concepts
of manhood can also hurt those men unwilling or unable to live by them. The gap
between the regular Arab man, the “average Mo,” and the Arab myth of manhood is
bound to breed feelings of inadequacy, because, in societies where many women
have become men’s equals and even surpassed them in schools, universities and
the workplace the chasm between fantasy and reality is a yawning
one.
Moreover, it can leave impressionable men who hold no grudge against
women and have no objections to living in equality with them unwilling to do so
publicly to avoid mockery from their peers and superiors. As long as
conservative circles continue successfully to equate female emancipation with
male emaciation, capitulation to foreign powers and the loss of cultural
authenticity, the quest for gender equality will stall.
What we need are
mainstream, “average Mo” role models who demonstrate that believing in gender
equality squares with being a man, and that empowering women also empowers men
and society as a whole. And this is one lesson that the revolutionary youth in
Egypt and Tunisia who have inspired the Arab world can teach over
time.
The writer is a Belgian-Egyptian journalist and writer who
currently lives in Jerusalem.
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