By Nick Donlan
When discussing and analyzing the events of the last eighteen months in the Middle East and North Africa, many commentators have framed their narratives and explanations around the “heroic martyrdom” of Mohamed Bouazizi, the Tunisian street vendor who famously set himself on fire after having his wares confiscated by a local police officer. Although his act and story became a catalyst for the Tunisian Revolution (and, some argue, the ongoing uprisings throughout the region), the conventional media account of the incident tends to omit how Bouazizi’s self-immolation may have been the product of more than simply the economic injustices he experienced. While Bouazizi’s difficulties finding a suitable job have been well-documented, pundits frequently overlook (or disregard) his own family’s suggestion that his suicide may have been a response to the shame and humiliation he felt after being slapped in public by a female government official. The world will never know exactly what motivated Bouazizi to strike that fateful match, but his family’s speculation should serve as a reminder to those attempting to comprehend the Arab uprisings that issues of gender inequality are inextricably linked to concerns about economic opportunity and political participation.
In the wake of Bouazizi’s death, specific circumstances and motivations aside, public dissatisfaction with the actions and policies of authoritarian dictators gave way to the rise of widespread protests throughout Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Bahrain, Syria, Yemen, and beyond. Over a year after these protests began, the region’s governments continue to scramble to consolidate power and regain — or establish — legitimacy with their citizens as they face increasingly uncertain futures. However, the plights of these regimes pale in comparison to those of women throughout the region, many of whom played unprecedented and often vital roles organizing and participating in demonstrations. Although nascent democracies have emerged in Egypt, Libya, and Tunisia, early evidence seems to suggest there are no guarantees that more citizen representation will translate into more beneficial outcomes for the women of these countries.
In the most recent issue of Foreign Policy, Mona Eltahawy argues convincingly that the political changes have done little for women across the Middle East and North Africa because of deeply rooted patriarchal attitudes that hamper the prospects for sweeping social changes. In Egypt, for example, women turned out to the streets after the fall of Hosni Mubarak to celebrate International Women’s Day only to be harassed by a rival protest of men spouting insults like, “Go home, wash clothes,” and, “You are not married, go and find a husband.” With just eight women in Egypt’s new 500-seat parliament dominated by the Muslim Brotherhood and the Salafists, practices like forced marriage and female genital mutilation may remain part of the status quo for the foreseeable future. Perhaps even more troubling are the signs of backsliding in traditionally tolerant Tunisia; several female university professors and students have voiced concerns over Islamists’ open hostility towards them for not wearing hijabs.
The awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to Yemeni activist Tawakel Karman marked an important moment of international recognition of the bravery of an Arab woman. However, despite this recognition, Karman still endures criticism from fellow Yemenis who have labeled her leadership style as “dictatorial” and accuse her of ruining the morality of women. Until men and women present a united front against repressive governments, these revolutions will fall well short of their potential to remedy not only gender discrimination, but also other social and economic ills. Indeed, as Eltahawy eloquently put it in her piece: “The Arab uprisings may have been sparked by an Arab man … but they will be finished by Arab women.”