In defense of Egyptian men

Egyptian men have a bad reputation.  Horror stories abound of women being subjected to harassment, from catcalls to rape.

But the focus on how terrible Egyptian men supposedly are belies a fundamental disconnect about not only Egyptian men but Western men as well.  It ignores the fact that sexism, sexual harassment, domestic violence, and sexual assault are endemic in Western societies.  Yes, there are plenty of douches in Egypt. There were days I wanted to punch the next guy who called me a mozah. But I know and have interacted with way more good, decent, respectful Egyptian men than disrespectful ones. 

First, a short introduction for those who may not know me to contextualize my reaction.  I’m a twenty-something white American who travels pretty extensively throughout the Middle East.  I do not consider myself ugly and, thanks to my love of running and lifting, am pretty fit.  I don’t dress super fancy or skimpy.  I’m not sure how else to say this, but not even the abaya I had to wear while in Saudi hid the fact my theme song could be, “Baby’s Got Back.”

In short? I’m a pretty good target for sexual harassment. But I’ve had many more problems with sexual harassment and discrimination at home than in Egypt.   

Late one night last summer in Cairo, my two American guy friends and I took the metro home.  The platform was packed, and the metro was even more so. I’m pretty good at pushing my way into small spaces, and after I got on the train I turned around just in time to see the doors close—with my friends being left on the platform. Crap, I thought.  I looked around—it was 2am or something and I was in a metro car full of men.  Alone.  And something amazing happened. Almost instantaneously, there was a bubble around me.  Perhaps it was the post-revolutionary euphoria, but every man around me was conscious to not even touch me, despite the fact we were pressed in like sardines.  One guy even offered me gum.

This is not to say there is no problem with sexual harassment in Egyptian society—there undoubtedly is.  But it’s not a problem unique to Egypt, and Westerners should think twice about their own societies before passing judgment on a huge swath of Egypt’s population. What is more, I would be hard pressed to name one society—ONE—not grappling with some form of sexual harassment or discrimination.   

I’m on this listserv called Cairo Scholars where khwagas (Arabic slang for foreigners) send out questions—where can I get soya products? Where can I get fish (the fish market?!?!), where can I get a clown (!!!), or apartment vacancies.  This morning, controversy broke out when one dude sent out and email to the thousands of subscribers, highlighting an article about sexual harassment and saying, “Another fine example of the way women, and western women, are seen and treated in Egyptian culture.” A few weeks ago, there was a similarly condescending conversation on Mona el-Tahawy’s article, “Why Do They Hate Us?” The highlights of that conversation: “I wonder if Egyptians are ever going to do something about this?” and “I have been wondering myself what Egyptians are doing in their daily lives” (Ask).

How can people have such a lack of understanding about Egypt—the society in which they ostensibly live? And get off your high horse. We’ve got our issues too. 

In one particularly cringe-worthy moment, I was at a cousin’s wedding, chatting with some distant family member about what I did.  He asked me if I was a nurse or a teacher; I said no, I worked on Capitol Hill.  Oh, where did I go and what did I study to get into that kind of work? English? Ugh. He asked me if I was a typist or secretary, I said no, I am working on an investigation into offshore money laundering and another on corrupt African dictatorships. 

After undergrad I worked for a few years for the United States Congress and if there is any institution with a sexual harassment and discrimination problem, it’s Congress.  I cannot even list the amount of times I was dismissed of being some starry-eyed, “cute” girl with a silly dream of saving the world. Nor can I list the amount of meetings I attended in which my counterpart did not look me in the face. 

It didn’t matter that I graduated from a good school, was successful, was all business and had no problem with kicking butt and taking names.  Some people were so blinded by my appearance and their own preconceptions they refused to give me real credit for my work.

A few Thanksgivings ago, I had made dinner and my family enjoyed the fruits of my labor, we all stood up to clean—except the men. They went into the other room to watch football. So I followed them, told them that I cooked so they clean. My dad looked at me incredulously, but I was serious. And they went into the kitchen and cleaned.

How many times have I been walking down the street or running—RUNNING—on the treadmill and told, “Honey, why aren’t you smiling?” Who just walks around by themselves smiling like an idiot? Who runs on a treadmill smiling?

Not to mention the number of times I’ve been on the treadmill in front of a mirror and see guys behind me, just standing there staring.

One day I was waiting for a taxi to take me to the airport in Italy and some man kept on walking after me and saying gross stuff in the deserted streets at 4am.  I had to flag down a garbage man to stay with me until the cab arrived.

And yes. Domestic violence happens. 

I admit these instances are different from those highlighted in the press regarding Egyptian men, but understanding the limitations and weaknesses in our own society is important before we go passing judgment on others. 

Nothing disgusts me more than Westerners—especially men—patting themselves on the back for how they treat women or making lofty declarations about how men in other societies treat women. He who has never sexually harassed, throw the first stone.    I think we would find there would be very few stones thrown.