Women in the Middle East have begun to question those aspects of their culture that injures them in the name of religious protection.
More often than not, prohibition of any kind triggers hidden human desires to surface with provocative force. It may vary across cultures but psychological response to imposed conditions is commonly associated with extreme behavior. Aptly fitting in this construct is the practice of misogyny, which invokes sexual violence against the other half. And, far from taming this mental monster the society instead burdens women with the responsibility for their own safety from sexual violence.
Turning a personal tragedy into public outrage, Mona Eltahawy has given a call for a sexual revolution in the Middle-East – to rid the society from the practice of oppressing its women. Provocative as the title may be, Headscarves and Hymens is a book-length expansion of a controversial article, ‘Why They Hate Us’, she wrote for ‘Foreign Policy’ in 2012. It is a courageous narrative by a woman who was picked up by the police during street clashes in Cairo, sexually assaulted and brutally beaten until her left hand and right arm were broken. Rising like a phoenix from her battered self, Mona has used her personal experience to narrate the plight of women in the middle-east.
If she were to use paint to indicate the places where her body was touched, groped, or grabbled without her consent even while wearing the hijab, says she, her entire torso, back and front, would be covered with color. And, she isn’t an exception! Over 99% of women in Egypt have experienced sexual harassment; in Tunisia some 47% of women have suffered domestic violence; and to top it all, at least alone 90% of married Egyptian women between the ages of 15 and 49 have undergone Female Genital Mutilation - a practice that continues to cause an unknown number of deaths. This and more, it is a painful narrative that can numb readers’ senses.
Trapped in a state of perpetual victimhood, women are unlikely to publically accept their private struggles against the oppressive forces. No wonder, the ultra-conservative society in the middle-east has not only forced women to be cultural vectors, but has used their bodies as the medium upon which culture is engraved. The author despises such cultural indignation, and calls upon women to break their silence because ‘it is the power of women’s stories that can tear down the soundproof walls of home.’ Only by breaking the cycle of inter-generational transfer of victimhood, by suffering mothers to their daughters, can personal liberty become the political tool against oppression. The battles over women’s bodies can be won only by women.
A toxic mix of culture and religion, promoted by the state, has allowed ultra-conservatism to be the leitmotif of women’s existence in the middle-east countries. Else, why would Saudi Arabian women of any age need the permission of a male legal guardian to travel, marry, work or access education. And, why would as many as 95 per cent of rape victims in Jordon marry their rapists to protect the families, and to preserve their reputation. Shockingly, such archaic practices are considered by many as beneficial to women. The silence of women seems deafening.
Mona wears her defiant attitude on her sleeves, and not on the head, because she considers headscarf a piece of cloth that reflects women’s status as separate and subservient. Hijab burdens women with expression of purity and modesty, she adds. Rarely is it been considered that women shoulder such socio-religious norms at an enormous cost to their intellectual and emotional self. And the enthusiasm with which the tiny membrane (hymen) is protected by families, religious authorities, lawmakers and security forces, women have let their bodies be controlled by others.
Headscarves and Hymens lends voice to several small but significant stories of rebellion, wherein women have begun to question those aspects of their culture that injures them in the name of religious protection. Violating the kingdom’s ban on female drivers by forty-seven Saudi women who took to the wheel in 1990 has been a story of inspiration across the region. However, change in itself is a slow process that will require a process of dialogue to challenge entrenched ideologies. That the silence is being broken, and that women struggling against the oppressive forces have begun to come out is a sure sign of change. Only when the victims seek liberation, can liberation be achieved.
Headscarves and Hymens
by Mona Eltahawy
Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London
Extent: 240, Price: Rs 799
This review was first published in Deccan Herald on its issue dated March 20, 2016.
It is a sheer enigma that the feel-good ideology of pluralism has outlived four decades of populist viewing.
Nearly 40 years after it had hit the screens, three authors have reconstructed the ‘illogic’ of Manmohan Desai’s blockbuster film Amar Akbar Anthony frame by frame. For William Elison, Christian Lee Novetzke, and Andy Rotman, the production is more than a fantasy film in the masala genre as it affirms a moral universe in which good triumphs over evil, villainy is vanquished, patriotism is enshrined, and the laws of family duty are established. What comes out is a layered interpretation of the film’s deeper symbolism, relevant to these times when secularism is not only a bad word but also under threat of misinterpretation.
It may have been a crazy lost-and-found entertainer, but its leading characters — Amar, Akbar, and Anthony are Hindu, Muslim, and Christian, as well as policeman, qawwal, and dada respectively — reflect the cultural anxieties of the state, the nation, and civil society. It has been viewed differently by different people, though. While it carries a subtle political message for filmmaker Shyam Benegal, it has been a kind of ‘illogic’ with a strong emotional content for actress Shabana Azmi. It was dumped by critics who found it loaded with implausible situations and unrealistic characters, and yet it continues to be seen as a film about national integration. Its enduring appeal has cemented its place among Bollywood classics.
Desai had a method in his illogic and justified his oblique method of delivering positive messages, arguing that nothing less than a palatable, sugar-coated pill would have delivered the message about cultural and communal harmony. The film’s three eponymous brothers assert their respective identities at numerous points, but find unity in their diversity in the end, as one brother quips, ‘we are three in one’. Could it be possible in reality? Even though the film presents the possibility of a ‘reality’, it offers differing and competing perspectives. It emphasises the presence of multiple realities. Given the complex matrix of sub-plots feeding into the story’s melodrama, this subsumes the central theme of the film. While many viewers find the lack of a single cohesive message disappointing, the film remains a celebration of competing and contradicting perspectives. After all, one story is never the full story.
In drawing multiple perspectives from religion, history, literature and popular culture, the authors search for the real hero amongst the dominant characters of the film. Could it be Amar, scion of an implicitly Hindu-dominated state, or Akbar, the romantic Muslim as model minority, or Anthony, the good-hearted Christian hooch peddler? Could it not be the quintessential long-suffering mother, played by Nirupa Roy, who as ‘Bharati’ remains blind through the better part of the film? It is the restoration of her sight through divine intervention that gives the three leading characters a sense of purpose with respect to their individual identities, within the copious bosom of a Mother India (the name of the mother directly invokes the name of the country). Only by reuniting with their mother do the boys embrace brotherhood. With such an imaginative leap, the narrative creates a mesmerizing
impact on its viewers.
It is a sheer enigma that the feel-good ideology of pluralism has outlived four decades of populist viewing.
Described as the ultimate formula film, it can be easily read as a multivalent allegory encompassing many tragic elements of human existence. Packed within its comic overtones are tragic interludes, ranging from the perceived backwardness of the masses to the irresponsiveness of a political class. However, it must be to the credit of the film-maker that despite the story’s dealing in slum neighborhoods
, lost youth, and deprived people, the audience lapped it up as an escape from the drudgery of reality. It is through such an unwritten agreement with the viewers that Desai could salvage the dream of creating a cinematic illusion of secularism.
Without doubt, the book Amar Akbar Anthony is an interdisciplinary gift by three fans to the innumerable fans of an all-time classic. In analyzing
the enduring appeal of a sheer entertainer, Elison, Novetzke and Rotman have pooled their individual scholarships in the fields of religion, anthropology and international studies, and come up with a brilliant, multi-layered reading of the film. Like the oft-told fable of the blind men and the elephant, they have applied selective blinkers to construct the elephant. The authors caution the reader to finish the book with the feeling that the elephant is also a tree. If you think that’s impossible, well, that is what the film is all about.
The final sequence, with the musical number conveys the crux of the story. The ‘Anhoni Ko Honi Kar De’ — to make the impossible possible — is a celebration of co-operation and unity in diversity. It reminds the viewer to consider making the impossible possible. It is detailing such as this that makes the book immensely entertaining.
Amar Akbar Anthony: Bollywood, Brotherhood, and the Nation
by William Elison, Christian Lee Novetzke & Andy Rotman
Harvard University Press, UK
Extent: 334, Price: Rs 995
This review was first published in the Hindu BusinessLine weekend supplement BLInk dated March 19, 2016.
