sexism

We don’t need no segregation

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By Osama Diab

Sexual harassment in Egypt is leading to calls for gender segregation. But is hiding women really the solution?

24 April 2010

Gender segregation is increasingly being viewed as a solution to widespread sexual harassment in Egypt. Signs of segregation have been apparent all over the country. In recent years, the government has designated two carriages in each metro train for women. Also, private women-only beaches, coffee shops and restaurants have been created to cater for women who want to remain beyond the reach of curious virile eyes (and sometimes hands).

A study on sexual harassment titled Clouds in Egypt's sky was carried out by the Egyptian Centre for Women's Rights (ECWR) as part of its Safer Streets for Everyone campaign. The study surveyed a total of 1,100 Egyptian and non-Egyptian women. The results were shocking: 83% of Egyptian women and 98% of foreign women in Egypt reported being sexually harassed.

The most recent reaction to this "social cancer" (as it is described by the ECWR) came last month when a Cairo taxi company allocated some of its fleet to female customers with women drivers. There was also a proposal endorsed by the late Grand Imam of al-Azhar to introduce pink taxis driven by women drivers for women passengers.

Some form of segregation has always existed in Egypt in places like government schools, mosques, hairdressers and funerals. However, it was never really as brutal as segregation in Saudi Arabia, where schools and colleges and even private and foreign institutions, such as the British Council are gender-based.

Even on the individual level, women in Saudi Arabia are not allowed to be in the company of non-relative males. A few years ago, a Saudi girl was sentenced to six months in prison and 90 lashes after being gang-raped just for being alone with a non-relative man at the time of her kidnap.

However, in Egypt, segregation is still done voluntarily and it is mostly the woman's choice to stay away from men. It is understandable why women would use their women-only facilities to escape sexual harassment. If I were a woman in Cairo, I would definitely jump in the no-men carriage in the metro instead of rubbing shoulders with men who, at best, are going to check me out from head to toe. But is this really the right way to combat this negative phenomenon?

Gender segregation seems like the easy way out. How would someone harass a woman if she's not there? But an honest approach to the problem is essential, and isolating women would be merely be treating the symptoms, not curing the disease.

There are many reasons behind sexual harassment: poverty, bad education, unemployment, sexual frusturation due to the social unacceptance of premarital sex and the difficulty of marriage due to economic reasons and a patriarchal society where women don't enjoy equal rights just to name a few.

Ahmed Salah, the founder of a campaign called "Respect Yourself", designed to target sexual harassers, believes that sexual harassment is a form of violence and anger at the current economic and political conditions that men bring against what they perceive as a "weaker" creature.

"People are unemployed, poor, and even if they're not; they still suffer from the country's bad conditions and want to bring their anger against someone, and this someone is the creature they perceive as weaker," says Ahmed.

Hamdi Abdul Azim, an Egyptian economist, said in a conference last year: "Economic conditions and culture don't allow people to satisfy their sexual needs in a legitimate manner and by mutual consent. Therefore, they sexually harass women in the street because this is where their only interaction with women takes place."

We should rethink our strategy of fighting sexual harassment because segregation itself is one of the reasons behind it. The more the sight of a woman becomes unusual, the more harassment women will suffer. Additionally, segregation would make women feel more alienated and marginalised in society.

Al-Azhar's approval to have taxis with women drivers might be well-intentioned, but it is policies like this that partly led to the situation we suffer from now. If we isolate females more from society, chances are it will be harder for them to get their voices heard, let alone fight for their rights.

Gender segregation would also increase the communication gap between males and females, creating more social problems such as sexual harassment and domestic violence. Running away from sexual harassment in women-only taxis, beaches, metro carriages and coffee shops might sound like a good short-term solution, but would only lead to more long-term gender-based troubles.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 29 March 2010. Read the related discussion.

Published here with the author's permission. ©Osama Diab. All rights reserved.

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Hating the ‘world’s smartest woman’

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By Khaled Diab

Linda De Win is clever, competitive and middle-aged – would Belgians respect her TV victories if only she were male too?

12 January 2009

At first sight, any quiz show that claims to be a contest to find the "smartest person in the world" should be dismissed as delusional. But anyone who has watched Belgian TV's De Slimste Mens Ter Wereld will quickly realise that the declared aspiration is very much tongue-in-cheek.

Unlike highbrow quiz shows – such as University Challenge and Mastermind (which I enjoy watching just for the entertainment of getting lost in obscurity and the sense of achievement when I get some answers right) – De Slimste Mens does not deal much in arcane niche knowledge.

Instead, each episode's three celebrity contestants must make rapid fire knowledge and word associations pitted against one another and the clock, with the winner being crowned the "smartest person in the world" for a day. In addition, humour is provided by a celebrity jury whose role is to mock the contestants and their answers.

Now into its eighth season, De Slimste Mens is so popular that it has won the prize for best entertainment programme on Flemish television two years running. In recent weeks, this easy-viewing show has been at the heart of a controversy centring on one of its contestants: political journalist Linda De Win, who became its joint most successful participant ever, having survived 11 episodes in a row.

The victories of appropriately named De Win, whose day job is grilling politicians and parliamentarians on the political show Villa Politica, sparked a hate campaign of an intensity unknown in the programme's history.

On Facebook, numerous groups cropped up attacking De Win and calling for her removal from the show. The most popular of these groups counted a peak membership of about 23,000, an enormous figure for tiny Flanders. Comments ranged from the mild, with some claiming that they opposed her because she was "boring", "arrogant" and "charmless", while the more vindictive stated opinion of the sort that "woman + ambition = bitch", that De Win is a "cow" and the most extreme believed that she "must die".

"I thought I kind of understood how the media worked," the seasoned journalist said in an interview with De Standaard. "But I watch with dismay what is occurring on Facebook: shocking, what hatred!"

She blames the tabloid press for setting the tone. "That a newspaper like Het Laatste Nieuws has engaged in character assassination of this kind is outrageous."

As no male candidate has ever elicited such a reaction, though there have been a number of obnoxious and arrogant men, and that beautiful young actresses and models routinely elicit admiration – mostly for their looks – when they appear on the show, De Win's supporters and fans believe that she has been the victim of machismo and sexism. "The makers of De Slimste Mens think that it is mostly because I am a woman, and one who likes to win," says De Win. "It seems that the Flanders of 2010 is not ready for a woman that comes across as competitive."

Many members of the Facebook groups set up against her claim that their hatred of De Win has nothing to do with her gender and everything to do with her personality. Some even point to the fact that there are women members of the group. But that's neither here nor there, since women have traditionally been some of the most ardent upholders and defenders of the patriarchy.

In addition, many people may believe that they dislike someone like De Win – a hard-as-nails 50-something political journalist – because of her personality, but this is partly because, while uncompromising toughness and abruptness, à la Jeremy Paxman, are widely admired in men, such characteristics are often still seen as unbecoming in women, despite decades of female emancipation.

Moreover, age is more of a challenge for women, as highlighted by the controversy surrounding the jettisoning of older female journalists at the BBC. As one former BBC executive put it, "as male presenters got older they become an authority and as female presenters got older they became a problem". And older female television journalists face a similar challenge in Belgium. "As an [older] woman in the media, you know that you will elicit vicious responses," notes De Win.

Despite the presence of some last bastions and strongholds of male chauvinism, we must recognise and acknowledge how far things have progressed in recent decades. Last year, Gail Trimble, the grand boffin of University Challenge, became a veritable media sensation, despite the predictable grumbles from the tabloids about her alleged smugness and superiority. The BBC is also seeking to set right its patchy record by attracting more older women presenters to the Beeb.

In Belgium, the intensity of the vitriol targeted against De Win has prompted an outpouring of popular sympathy for her, and she has had her mailbox jammed with messages of support and a number of fan groups have emerged to voice their support for the "smartest woman in the world".

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 7 January 2010. Read the related discussion.

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Ending apartheid in sport

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By Khaled Diab

The case of Caster Semenya is not about racism. Rather, it has highlighted the need to end gender apartheid in sport.

 26 August 2009

The jubilant reception and heroine’s welcome Caster Seminya received upon her return to South Africa might provide the unfortunate athlete with some consolation following her humiliating submission to a “gender verification” test following her 800 metres gold medal win at the World Championships in Berlin. 

Personally, I don’t think Semenya’s gender is in question, as she was clearly raised as a woman. If anything is in doubt, it is her sex. I can imagine how difficult it must’ve been for her growing up looking so manly, and the amount of teasing and mockery she may have been exposed. In their bid to rally around her, South Africans made a point of emphasising her gender, calling her our “golden girl” and “Caster, you beaut”. 

Based on tests that revealed that Semenya had three times the amount of testosterone in her body as would normally be expected in a female sample, there are unsubstantiated rumours that she has been taking high dosages of steroids, which could explain her appearance. 

Dubbed “our first lady of sport” by the South African media, her case soon became embroiled with the country’s post-Apartheid politics. Drawing on the legacy of the struggle against Apartheid, Winnie Madikizela, Nelson Mandela’s former wife, said: “We’ve had difficult situations in the history of this country. Don’t touch us… because if you dare, we will do it again if those who want to challenge us continue to insult us using our own people.” 

But, in this instance, accusations of racism are unfair, as plenty of white athletes have been made to take sex tests in the past, and track events are dominated by black people. Internationally, the segregation we need to be fighting in sport is gender apartheid. 

Big, powerful women like Semenya have, like men, an unfair physical advantage in women’s events, but what is often overlooked is that petit, slender men have an unfair disadvantage in men’s sport. The solution could be to mix the sexes and introduce some new criteria, such as weight or height, to even out the playing field. Moreover, in some team sports, where physical size is less of an issue, why not introduce mixed teams? 

The main justification for separating the sexes in sport is that men’s larger and stronger bodies give them an unfair advantage. However, it is also a hangover from a bygone age when sports were for men, and the only way for women to get in was to demand their own events. It’s time to rethink our antiquated attitudes to sport. 

 

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In the name of equality

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By Khaled Diab

Society is becoming more equal but our surnames – borrowed from fathers and husbands – lag behind. Is there a fairer system?

November 2008

According to Arabic naming practices, my name reveals a fair bit about my family history. In fact, a casual observer can trace my ancestry back three generations – not to mention the nth generation in which the original Diab lived. However, this only applies to my male ancestors. My name keeps a discreet silence when it comes to my female forebears.

In Europe, middle names are generally chosen and, so, often reveal little about intermediate ancestors (unless they are the names of grandparents). Nevertheless, names here still carry the patriarchal seal of the male founder of the family.

It is still common practice, at least in Anglo-Saxon society, for women to adopt their husbands’ surnames. And a wife’s identity can be so subsumed by her husband’s that she takes on his full name, especially in official correspondences or more traditional ceremonies.

Luckily for my wife and I, given our belief in equality, this is not the practice either in Belgium or Egypt, where a woman keeps her maiden name. I don’t know if this is a sign of greater equality in this particular aspect, an accident of history, or simply reflects a different patriarchal emphasis, i.e. that of a woman’s father rather than her husband.

Nevertheless, children still take on their father’s name. Of course, the practice may have originated partly for practical reasons – my wife speculates that it may have started off as a simple acknowledgement of paternity, a way for a man to say to society that I recognise this child as mine, too, and the way for a woman to ensure that he does his share of the caring.

Nevertheless, I find this inherently unfair to the mother. Because I am a Diab, that means I am labelled and pigeon-holed in society’s consciousness as belonging to my father’s family but not my mother’s.

Where is the mother acknowledged in all this? Barack Obama illustrates this conundrum well. Although his father had little role in raising him, the president elect bears his name – whereas his mother and her family get little acknowledgment, in his name, for their far greater role.

Personally, I have previously toyed with the idea of taking on my mother’s surname, Khattab, at least informally, in order to acknowledge the greater role she has played in my upbringing and my closer affinity to her family.

Intriguingly, there is a tribe in Indonesia in which, contrary to most of humanity, children’s family names follow the matriarchal line. In fact, with a population of up to 7 million, the Minangkabau are the largest group of people to use a matronymic naming system. And it is not only names that are passed down along the mother’s line – property, too, is matrilineal. Men’s role is to handle affairs of state and religion.

It will probably surprise many to learn that the Minangkabau are ardent Muslims. However, they have striven to preserve their native matriarchal culture and strike a balance between it and Islam’s more patriarchal worldview. And this women-friendly society, which reveres the importance of learning, has not done at all badly for itself, over-represented as it is in Indonesia’s professional classes and top government offices. Unsurprisingly, the country’s first female minister was a Minang.

That said, replacing patronymic names with matronymic ones is still not an ideal solution, since they replace one inequality with another. My wife and I have mused over how children could be named in a way that would be fair to both parents. There’s the option of merging family names.

But, here in Belgium, that’s no longer possible – apparently it creates confusion regarding people’s identity – while, in Egypt, the bureaucracy is so rigid as to rule out such flexibility. Besides, given their profusion among the aristocracy, double-barrelled names carry a certain pomposity that can be lived without.

Another option is to give alternate children alternate surnames. The drawbacks are that you need to have at least two kids and, ideally, an even number of sprogs. It would also prove confusing to outsiders, particularly the authorities, in terms of ascertaining parent-child and child-child relations – which could actually be rather entertaining.

It seems there is no easy way to make naming practices egalitarian (i.e. both patronymic and matronymic) without each of us being given a name as along as the Channel Tunnel. But is showing lineage really that important, at least when we become adults? Perhaps the only truly fair solution is to let everyone invent or choose their own surname when they come of age. That way, we’ll be celebrating the individual and sending out a message that family is a private affair.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 16 November 2008. Read the related discussion.

This is an archive piece that was migrated to this website from Diabolic Digest

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