[By the end of the holidays, one of the
group’s leaders, Muhammad Taimoor, 22, had been arrested after fighting with a
suspect on the subway. Even so, he called the weekend a success. “We caught
some harassers, sprayed them with paint and published their pictures
everywhere,” Mr. Taimoor said. “The Interior Ministry wasn’t cooperating with
us at all. They weren’t protecting women in the streets.” ]
By Kareem
Fahim
CAIRO — The young activists lingered on the
streets around Tahrir Square, scrutinizing the crowds of holiday revelers.
Suddenly, they charged, pushing people aside and chasing down a young man. As
the captive thrashed to get away, the activists pounded his shoulders, flipped
him around and spray-painted a message on his back: “I’m a harasser.”
Egypt’s streets have long
been a perilous place for women, who are frequently heckled, grabbed,
threatened and violated while the police look the other way. Now, during the
country’s tumultuous transition from authoritarian rule, more and more groups
are emerging to make protecting women — and shaming the do-nothing police — a
cause.
“They’re now doing the undoable?” a police
officer joked as he watched the vigilantes chase downthe young man. The officer
quickly went back to sipping his tea.
The attacks on women did not subside after
the uprising. If anything, they became more visible as even the military was
implicated in the assaults, stripping female protesters, threatening others with
violence and subjecting activists to so-called virginity tests. During holidays, when
Cairenes take to the streets to stroll and socialize, the attacks multiply.
But during the recent Id al-Adha holiday,
some of the men were surprised to find they could no longer harass with impunity,
a change brought about not just out of concern for women’s rights, but out of a
frustration that the post-revolutionary government still, like the one before,
was doing too little to protect its citizens.
At least three citizens groups patrolled busy
sections of central Cairo during the holiday. The groups’ members, both men and
women, shared the conviction that the authorities would not act against
harassment unless the problem was forced into the public debate. They differed
in their tactics: some activists criticized others for being too quick to
resort to violence against suspects and encouraging vigilantism. One group
leader compared the activists to the Guardian Angels in the United States.
“The harasser doesn’t see anyone who will
hold him accountable,” said Omar Talaat, 16, who joined one of the patrols.
The years of President Hosni Mubarak’s rule
were marked by official apathy, collusion in the assaults on women, or empty
responses to the attacks, including police roundups of teenagers at Internet
cafes for looking at pornography.
“The police did not take harassment
seriously,” said Madiha el-Safty, a sociology professor at the American
University in Cairo. “People didn’t file complaints. It was always
underreported.”
Mr. Mubarak’s wife, Suzanne, who portrayed
herself as a champion of women’s rights, pretended the problem hardly existed.
As reports of harassment grew in 2008, she said, “Egyptian men always respect
Egyptian women.”
Egypt’s new president, Mohamed Morsi, has
presided over two holidays, and many activists say there is no sign that the
government is paying closer attention to the problem. But the work by the
citizens groups may be having an effect: Last week, after the Id al-Adha
holiday, Mr. Morsi’s spokesman announced that the government had received more
than 1,000 reports of harassment, and said that the president had directed the
Interior Ministry to investigate them.
“Egypt’s revolution cannot tolerate these
abuses,” the spokesman quoted Mr. Morsi as saying.
Azza Soliman, the director of the Center for
Egyptian Women’s Legal Assistance, dismissed the president’s words as “weak.”
During the holiday, she said, one of her sons was beaten on the subway after he
tried to stop a man who was groping two foreign women. The police tried to stop
him from filing a complaint. “The whole world is talking about harassment in
our country,” Ms. Soliman said. “The Interior Ministry takes no action.”
For years, anti-harassment activists have
worked to highlight the problems in Egypt, but the uprising seemed to give the
effort more energy and urgency.
Over the holiday, the groups staked out
different parts of Cairo’s downtown. One avoided any violence, forming human
chains between women and their tormentors. The other group forcefully confronted
men and boys it suspected of harassment, smacking around suspects before
hauling them off to a police station.
One of that group’s founders, Sherine Badr
el-Din, 30, started her work as an anti-harassment activist by asking men to
get off the women-only cars on the Cairo subway, regarded as a safe zone. When
they refused, she videotaped them and posted their pictures on the Internet,
she said.
Last summer, one of the men attacked her. “I
wanted to file a case, but the police officer refused, claiming they were only
there to monitor the train schedules.” She said the group escalated its tactics
out of frustration, after the police started releasing suspects the group had
caught.
“Violence is not our method,” she said. “But
the pressure was tremendous.”
Last week, as the group gathered near Tahrir
Square, one member had what looked like a stun gun, and another shook a can of
spray paint. Most participants were men, and some wore fluorescent green vests,
with the words “combating harassment” written on the back.
They mused on the reasons for the frequency
of the attacks on their sisters, mothers and friends, finding no sure answer in
the blame often laid on poverty or religion, society’s indifference or the
state’s contagious chauvinism.
They seemed more certain of the solution, as
they plunged into the holiday crowds over several evenings. Some bystanders
were supportive. But when violence broke out, there was less support. “I will
tell the government on you,” one man screamed as the activists wrestled with a
suspect.
Sometimes the patrol acted after seeing a
woman being groped. At other times, it justified its attacks as preventive.
Two boys on a scooter hardly knew what hit
them. One minute, they were driving along the Nile Corniche, saying something —
maybe lewd, maybe not — to two girls strolling on the sidewalk. The next, they
were being hauled off the scooter by the men in green vests. The melee that
broke out afterward stopped traffic on one of downtown’s busiest roadways,
before the police chased the patrol members off.
Afterward, Muhaab Selim, 23, a member of the
group, could barely contain his anger. “Why do I have to wait until he touches
them?” he yelled. “Why do people defend the harassers?”
By the end of the holidays, one of the
group’s leaders, Muhammad Taimoor, 22, had been arrested after fighting with a
suspect on the subway. Even so, he called the weekend a success. “We caught
some harassers, sprayed them with paint and published their pictures
everywhere,” Mr. Taimoor said. “The Interior Ministry wasn’t cooperating with
us at all. They weren’t protecting women in the streets.”
While Mr. Taimoor and his colleagues were on
patrol, another group, called Imprint, was in a nearby square. Nihal Saad
Zaghloul, 27, an activist with the group, said its members stopped more than 30
men who were trying to harass women.
When the group believes someone is being
harassed, some members form a wall between the attacker and the victim, while
others take the woman to safety. “We don’t push back, and we don’t fight,” Ms.
Zaghloul said. They ask police officers to be present, in case the woman wants
to file a report.
Ms. Zaghloul, who became active after she and
a friend were assaulted, was less critical of the patrol officers than some of
the other activists. “They are understaffed, and at the same time, they are
part of a society that always blames women, although they know it’s wrong.” She
worried that the other group’s methods would alienate the public.
But she added, “No one understands their
frustration better than me.”
Asmaa Al Zohairy contributed reporting.
