Egypt's deep-seated culture of sexism

“Don’t worry, women have smaller brains than men.”

“It’s in the Qur’an, its God’s right given to men to command women.”

“Women overstate the problem, its nothing, they shouldn’t take it so seriously.”

These are just some of the comments that I heard sitting with various groups of young and older Egyptian men in Cairo’s Tahrir Square recently. I’d been approaching groups of males all day, hoping to hear them whistling and yelling at passing women in an attempt to understand why they did it; the catcalls began with predictable but saddening speed.

After each example of harassment, I stepped in gently to ask why they thought it was OK to do it. Regardless of if they were a street hawker, taxi driver, university graduate, call centre worker or even a university professor, the deep-rooted culture of male sexism that pervades Egyptian society was clear.

Likewise, nearly all of the Egyptian women I spoke to in Cairo, Fayoum and southern Sinai still reported sexual harassment on a too regular basis. One even reported being whistled at by a sleaze-ball while she was pregnant. In 2013, the United Nations Entity for Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women published research showing that 99.3 per cent of Egyptian women have experienced some form of sexual harassment.

Some of the women that I spoke to said that with the return of a heavy military and police presence on the streets since Al-Sisi was elected, the situation has got slightly better but, still, your gender very much defines your experience of walking the streets of Egypt. Sadly, even the police and soldiers are to be seen engaging in a little catcalling of their own.

The impact of this behaviour isn’t just an uncomfortable feeling walking the streets, though that’s bad enough. Twenty-eight per cent of Egyptian women reported being victims of domestic violence. By next year, UNESCO estimates that a third of Egyptian females will still be illiterate. Girls, married off at the age of just twelve or thirteen, are often pulled out of school. In rural areas, schools can be a long walk away and parents don’t feel safe sending their girls alone. In late 2013, Thomson Reuters conducted a poll which ranked Egypt as the worst country for women’s rights among twenty-two Arab League states.

In June, former interim president Adly Mansour approved a new sexual harassment law demanding five year custodial sentences and hefty fines for perpetrators, which might sound like a positive move; except that women are required to report incidents to their local police station, taking the assailant with them. Women’s rights groups, including Egyptian campaign group Dignity without Borders, have described the law as “weak and unclear.”

The practicalities of reporting sexual violence and harassment are a long-standing problem. Police taking complaints from wives suffering at the hands of violent husbands are too often dismayed when the senior officer simply calls the husband, who takes the woman home. Judges are frequently accused of blatant and on-the-record sexism in the courtroom.

In the short-term, the sexual harassment law needs to be defined better. International human rights observers propose anonymity for women, though given that this is not yet the norm in the Western world it seems unrealistic to expect it in Egypt. Still, removing the need for the assailant to be present when reporting the crime seems like a basic step to take.

The work of civil society groups such as Tahrir Bodyguard, which formed protection squads for women during the 2011 uprising; I Saw Harassment, which prevented thirty-five cases of sexual harassment during Eid; and Harass Map, which crowd source information about assaults and harassment, shouldn’t be under-estimated. Police departments need to have specialised departments for handling complaints, with re-training that judges should also attend.

The National Council for Women on the whole seems a toothless organisation whose principal contribution has been as a filter to remove female rights NGOs which are too anti-government (including those of the Muslim Brotherhood) and whose primary purpose is to mimic the state line on women. It is there, though, where the long-term resolution to sexual harassment issues must lie.

President Al-Sisi was elected on a patronising notion of gender. His choice lines included expressing confidence that women would support him because they are “the calm soft and rational voice” in the house. “I am talking about the Egyptian woman who maintains her household, turns off the heater and the stove,” he added. Al-Sisi saw the role of a good Egyptian housewife as “encouraging men and children to work.” In a country where only thirteen per cent of women aged fifteen to twenty-nine are working, or looking for work; an Egypt where only one in five jobs are going to women, Al-Sisi is less about burning the bra and more dousing it with dishwater. His popularity amongst women’s rights activists wasn’t helped given that he also presented himself as a stereotypical masculine man, a tune to which the pliant Egyptian media danced enthusiastically.

Until the rhetoric from the male elite begins to reflect the change they claim they want to see in Egypt, women will continue to be repressed and harassed. Al-Sisi is leading the show; it is time for him to step up to the mark on women’s rights.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.