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Published: March 25th 2009
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Women at a souq
Women buying produce at a souq, or market. The Ladies' Car
I just went on the ladies' car in the subway for the first time, and what a place it is! I can’t believe I haven’t gone into it before, having generally opted to subject myself to the more convenient yet significantly more degrading mixed car where my buns almost get a free massage from all of the squeezing from unclaimed hands they receive. Never again, though. From now on, I’m a metro elitist. Girl power.
At any rate, I was jostled onto the women’s car completely by accident. I’d seen the little green signs on the designated cars before, but they were always inconveniently far away (and the subways door wait for no man, as I’ll elaborate on in a moment). Stepping
A walk in the park
I took this picture at al-Azhar park, in Islamic Cairo near the Citadel in the Moqattam hills. It's a jewel of a park, full of as much fresh oxygen and relaxing families as you could ever want in Cairo. inside was like stepping into a warm, humming, perfume-filled cocoon. And so colorful! I’d never been in such a female-heavy environment, and the sea of colored, patterned, and sequined heads was striking. It was like being in a room full of really nice-smelling, clucking hens. The - can I call it relief? - in the air of a male-free environment was palpable, and women were either smiling or chatting or sitting back, relaxed. I made 4 friends in 4 subway stops (much better than getting 4 marriage proposals).
What happens in a subway without safety features
A little anecdote about the relentlessness of the subway doors: (names have been changed to preserve dignity). Two friends of mine, we’ll call them Bruce and Gloria, were taking the subway together one day. In the crush of humanity to get into the car before the doors soldered themselves shut at the speed of sound, they saw a relatively empty car and bolted for it. They weren’t in there for more than 2 seconds, though, before it dawns on Bruce that every single person around him is wearing a hijab; he’d made the ultimate rookie mistake of being theunwitting man riding
in the ladies’ car. Immediately he vaulted towards the (closing) doors, so mortified that he hardly cared if he missed this particular subway. Not fast enough though - halfway through his desperate lunge for mixed-gender freedom, the doors slam shut ON HIS NECK, trapping him for 15 mortifying seconds of looking like a trapped turtle, during which scarlet swoops over his face, Gloria collapses laughing, and all the women around him cluck disapprovingly as he tries vainly to prize his noggin from the jaws of life. Finally as the subway picks up speed, he wrenches himself free, staggers backwards, and immediately sits down in the first seat he sees, putting his head between his knees and doesn’t move, speak, or respond for the next 75 seconds until they get to the next stop and he makes a beeline out the door into the next car. Gloria, I’m told, had a grand old time laughing with the other women in the car, cashing in on Bruce’s shame by laughing at him in good-natured solidarity with the other women. He hasn't let us mention the day since.
On befriending Egyptian women
I, on the other hand, haven’t yet had
Silhouettes
These women are sitting at a sort of bench area at the highest hill in the park, from which you could see all of Cairo with its thousands of minarets peeking out above the crumbly rooftops. Unfortunately, I don't think these women quite believed that I was just cleaning my camera lens instead of surreptitiously taking their picture, considering they're staring straight at me... the benefit of an unlucky male friend to embarrass himself into providing me with a bonding opportunity with women I meet on the street. I was frankly hesitant - well, alright, downright intimidated - to approach women here for the first several weeks. The stares and comments of men were somehow more familiar or manageable than speaking with some of these women, largely because I actually care about what the women think of me, and couldn’t really care less about the men as long as they leave me alone. I don’t want to make any essentializing statements about how Egyptian men are all pigs, because they aren’t - it just makes life so much easier and prevents the knot of anxiety from forming in my chest if I just ignore the ones on the streets altogether. There’s this upsettingly unshakable image of foreign women as floozies, which is I think is what spurs them to take such social liberties that they would never take with a clearly Egyptian woman.
That being said, it’s not entirely fair of me to describe them as such cretins; any man that I’ve actually approached for help has immediately dropped all leers and suggestive
Lovers sitting on the benches
Cairo is bursting with couples strolling around, and al-Azhar is especially packed with them. Young people can't exactly go on dates in private or secluded places like Westerners might, so they instead go to public areas like the park or walking along the Nile. jokes and have been helpful and respectful. I almost want to say that the men here feel like they’re expected to toss a few well-placed “Hello, white angels!” just to save face in front of their buddies. When you actually look them in the face and talk to them, they are much more likely to retract the bravado and even be a little shamefaced. That is, until they offer to take you on a moonlit stroll down the Nile, but that's the easy part. All I have to do is describe my big mean American husband.
Making friends with Egyptian women is something I’ve been sincerely trying to do, though. To approach a woman is difficult - they don’t often smile at me before I smile at them, but once I do, I’ve been amazed at the radiant smiles I get back. One of my professors was telling me the other day about how Egypt is a high-stress place to live…with the huge unemployment rates, shameful lack of representation in the government, and subsequent lack of most public services, many Egyptians, especially the women, are more concerned about how they’re going to put food on the table than with
smiling at foreigners. I also suspect that what I see as standoffish-ness is actually plan curiosity at what I’m doing here. But once I start the ball rolling, then the genuine warmth flows out with the inevitable flurry of questions about my husband, whether or not I’ve got a bun in the oven, how I learned to speak Arabic, and a dozen others - especially as more women tend to congregate.
Another way I’ve been able to get to know women here is by getting a job with the Arab Alliance for Women, an NGO in downtown where I’ve managed to find part-time work. It pays peanuts, but it’s interesting and infrequent enough to be worth it. Two days a week, I work with the women in the office doing research, arranging presentations, writing or editing grant proposals, and organizing training sessions or seminars for local women to encourage economic empowerment, political awareness, and education about women’s health. It’s a wonderfully all-encompassing group for women’s issues, though their main focus is political and gaining more female representation in the government as a means to address these other issues. It’s hopefully going to be a good way to set some
A boy at sunset
Well, he had been playing soccer with his buddies, but what this photo doesn't capture is the fact that one of the other kids had just gone for his knees and taken him out professional roots here if I decide to come back and work, and at the very least, a way to get some female buddies that can help me understand Cairo through an Egyptian (not a foreign) woman’s eyes.
I apologize, by the way, for not updating this blog more frequently. I’ve just finished a slough of random logistical odds and ends and projects that I’m doing here, so my schedule is equalizing nicely and I’ll be (hopefully) posting on a more regular basis!
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