Comercio de mercancías

1996

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he freedom granted so far remained on the surface of our social structure, leaving intact the manacles which bound the hands the Egyptian woman. No one will deliver freedom to the woman, except the woman herself. To seize this freedom by force since our polemic over the past three years has led to zero. To use violence towards those who understand only the language of violence. I decided to fight to the last drop of blood to break the chains shackling the women of my country in the invisible prison in which they continued to live; a prison, which being invisible, was all the more oppressive.*

By the early fifties, political unrest in the country took a more violent turn. In addition to the protests instigated by both the left and the Muslim Brothers, there was a growing conflict between the forces of nationalism on the one hand and the British and the Egyptian crowns on the other. In fact, the two developments were connected in the sense that the radical groups rejected any compromising solution to the British occupation.

Al-Nahas reiterated his assertion that the 1936 Anglo-Egyptian Treaty had lost its validity and that the total evacuation of the British was essential to Egyptian independence. The British, on the other hand, with three times the number of troops stipulated in the treaty, intensified attacks against the various Egyptian resistance groups.

It was during this period that a more radicalized Doria Shafik emerged, voicing a more militant feminist protest than had yet been heard within the Egyptian women’s movement. According to al-Kholi, “By the beginning of the early fifties she began to use a political and social language which, in my estimation, flabbergasted Nour al-Din. She began to enter the political fight. She transformed Bint al-Nil from being a movement whose only aim was to liberate bourgeois women, into a movement that related the liberation of women to the larger political struggle. From here emerged the linage of democracy to social justice, to social development. Doria began to have a more political agenda. By degrees she became convinced for the first time, of the idea of protesting in the streets.”1

Three years had elapsed since the founding of her movement, and Doria was fed up and impatient with al-Nahas’s inability or lack of will to fulfill the Wafd’s campaign pledge. In an editorial titled “A Free Man Fulfills His Promises,” Dora ironically asked her readers: “Why are we doubting the prime minister’s words? Didn’t His Excellency, Mustapha al-Nahas, announce last summer that the Wafd’s primary goal was to grant the Egyptian woman the right to vote? Who can deny that His Excellency is a man of principles? His Excellency was one of the leaders of the national movement and he saw for himself the Egyptian woman’s share in the national struggle, whether political, social or economic. Our case is in the hands of somebody who knows how to fulfill his promises.” She decided that the time had come to change tactics, “to assail the men; surprise them right in the middle of injustice, that is to say, under the very cupola of parliament.”2

Nothing that Doria had yet attempted would take her society by surprise, catch the imagination of both the national and international press, and intensify the hostility of her enemies as greatly as the carefully constructed and successfully executed plan to storm the Egyptian parliament on the afternoon of February 19, 1951. With nearly fifteen hundred women at her

side, Doria left Ewart Memorial Hall of the American University in Cairo, marched the few blocks south along the main street of Kasr al Aini, forced her way through the gates of parliament, and orchestrated four hours of boisterous demonstrations before finally being received in the office of the vice president of the chamber of deputies and extracting from the president of the senate a verbal promise that parliament would immediately take up the women’s demands.

That such a daring act of public defiance against the bastion of male authority could actually be organized and executed was a tribute to the strategy of secrecy and surprise followed by Doria and her small circle of coconspirators, who had sworn a solemn oath on the Quran not to divulge their plans to anyone, not even to their husbands. It was “an affair that concerns us only. Why mix the men up in it?” A month before the demonstration, during the course of a meeting with the executive council of Bint al-Nil, Doria remarked to the great surprise of those assembled, “We are only playing.” Then she got up, banged her fist on the table and exclaimed, “We must go out into the streets!” She sat down and, in a low voice, added, “Why don’t we organize a demonstration?” A profound silence fell over the room. One woman asked, “And if we fail?” “Then we will be the only ones responsible for our failure. But you must guard this secret!”3

And effectively the secret was kept for a month as preparations were made for what was ostensibly to be a large feminist congress. The element of surprise was maintained until the moment Doria stood on the podium in Ewart Hall and announced:

Our meeting today is not a congress, but a parliament. A true one! That of women! We are half the nation! We represent here the hope and despair of this most important half of our nation. Luckily we are meeting at the same hour and in the same part of town as the parliament of the other half of the nation. They are assembled a few steps away from us. I propose we go there, strong in the knowledge of our rights, and tell the deputies and senators that their assemblies are illegal so long as our representatives are excluded, that the Egyptian parliament cannot be a true reflection

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of the entire nation until women are admitted. Let’s go and give it to them straight. Let’s go and demand our rights. Forward to the parliament!

This was indeed an historic moment not only for Doria but also for the women’s movement. The Egyptian press, who followed the events surrounding Doria’s audacious manifestation closely, remarked: “This was the first public meeting organized conjointly by two groups who have identical aims yet a different history. The first is the Egyptian Feminist Union founded by Huda Sha‘rawi, who joined the battle thirty years ago when the spirit of national revolution animated the land. The second is the Bint al-Nil Movement which marches under the banner of youth. But the two organizations are resolved to collaborate. They have declared themselves in favor of unified action.”4

It is testimony to her seriousness that Doria Shafik would invite Ceza Nabaraoui—“with whom I had believed I had definitely made peace”—to join her in the demonstration in order “to unite the largest number of women regardless of their ideological and temperamental differences, to prove to society the solidarity of all women in their demand for political and civil rights and to demonstrate through this solidarity women’s ability to have a major impact on society.”5_{Ahmad al-Sawi, Doria’s calamitous former}

‘aris (legal fiancé) and outspoken critic, was fully aware of the antipathy

between the two women, and commented in al-Ahram newspaper: “It is

inconceivable that there would come a day when we would see Ceza Nabaraoui and Doria Shafik exchanging kisses in the street, but that is exactly what happened yesterday.”6

Doria’s rebellious march resulted in a feminist delegation’s being able to proclaim within the hallowed halls of parliament for the first time its specific demands: first permission to participate in the national struggle and in politics; second, reform of the personal status law by setting limitations on polygamy and divorce; and third, equal pay for equal work. When a group of women, headed by Doria, finally forced their way into the chamber of deputies, they were met by the vice president, Gamal Serag al-Din,7_who

remonstrated with them as to the legality of their actions. To which Mme. Shafik answered: “We are here by the force of our right.”

“Tell your girls to hold their tongues,” countered the vice president. “For over two years we tried to make ourselves heard in a correct manner. It is time that you listen to us. They will not keep quiet before I have a promise on your part,” threatened Mme. Shafik. Seeing that the president of the chamber refused to meet the delegation himself, she decided to meet the president of the senate, His Excellency, Zaki al-Urabi Pasha, and present her grievances. Unfortunately he was ill that day and had not come to the session. Mm. Shafik entered the Senate and did not hesitate to telephone him: “Excellency, we have forced open the door of parliament. I am calling you from your own office. Over a thousand women are outside demanding their political rights, based on your own interpretation of Article 3 of the Constitution, which states that all Egyptians have equal civil and political rights. You yourself have declared that ‘Egyptian’ designates women as well as men. Nothing in the constitution stands in the way. Only the electoral law discriminates against women. We are convinced you will not go against your own words.”

In the face of such a barrage the president of the senate, in an effort to appease Mme. Shafik, replied that he would take this question personally in hand.8

Doria was placated by the pasha’s assurance and repeated his words to the throng outside: “‘Our negotiations have won a solemn promise that the Egyptian woman will have her political rights!’ From the crowd a voice shouted, ‘We’ll see that he keeps his word!’ We left the parliament feeling victorious.”

The following morning, Doria found a letter from the wife of the Indian ambassador, apologizing for not having attended the congress of the day before and explaining that she was ill. She ended her note with: “Bravo! Allah helps those who help themselves.”9_{Later that day, Doria and Ceza headed}

another delegation to Abdin Palace, where they deposited copies of their demands—then to the office of the prime minister, where a meeting was arranged for the following week. One week after the assault on parliament, a draft bill, amending the electoral law granting women the right to vote as well as run for parliament, was formally submitted to the president of the chamber of deputies, by a Wafdist representative, Ahmad al-Hadri.10

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All seemed to be going well until the prime minister reneged on his promised appointment with the feminist delegation. The initial feelings of euphoria were tempered by the realization that once again, oral promises were being broken. Having felt cheated by the prime minister, the members of the delegation demanded that the chef de cabinet remind his Excellency

that (1) his August 1949 election pledge had posited the realization of feminist demands would figure as a top priority in the Wafd program when they returned to power, and (2) Egypt was one of the signatories of the UN Charter, in which the first article accorded equality to all human beings without distinction of sex. They left the office refusing the traditional cup of coffee.11_{The London Times described this incident as “Nahas Pasha’s Snub}

to Suffragettes.”12_{By now, the foreign as well as the Egyptian press had taken}

up Doria’s “storming of parliament” as a major media event. The New York Times ran a five column feature on the event including two photographs of

Doria, one looking through a book with Jehane and Aziza, and the other, leading the march on parliament. The headline read: “Rising Feminism Bewilders Egypt: Muslim Conservatives Shocked by Suffragettes’ Behavior in Invading Parliament.”13

Doria was summoned to appear in court on March 6 to hear the public prosecutor’s formal accusations: “I assume full responsibility for everything that has happened and I am even ready to go to jail!” she declared. Because of the extraordinary nature of the case, a number of lawyers, particularly women, volunteered to defend her. At this time, women lawyers in Egypt were fighting male opposition that still placed barriers before their admission to the Tribunals. Appointments to judgeships were absolutely denied to them. Although there were a few hundred women lawyers in Egypt during this period, these obstacles functioned to discourage women from entering the profession, and their numbers were not increasing. Those who did come were from as far away as Samalout and Alexandria as well as from Cairo. But it was the eminent Mufida Abdul Rahman, a successful career-woman and mother of nine children, whom Doria selected to defend her case. Under the banner headline “Bint-al-Nil in Court: The Case of Mme. Doria Shafik Will

Be the Defense of the Egyptian Feminist Movement,” La Bourse Egyptienne

feminists and roused their energies. The true object of the flimsy accusation against the founder of Bint al-Nil is the entire feminist movement. The case to be pleaded on April 10, 1951 is not just a matter of conscience but a political affair that is destined to have repercussions nationally and internationally. The dynamic Egyptian feminists are certainly not going to waste the opportunity of using this unexpected tribunal to plead their cause with the government.”14

In response to questions about how she was going to conduct her defense of Doria’s case, Mufida Abdul Rahman commented:

It appears to me that there is no crime in going to lodge the petition in parliament. As regards having forced the gates: We know that the public is not banned from parliament. Sessions may be observed by people who have invitations. But is there a law that says one must have an invitation? Such a law does not exist. The women went to parliament to demand their property, to demand the right which is denied them and which they cannot obtain by other means. The door of parliament ought to be open like other doors—those of factories, of the professions and of higher education. All women, literate or not, have the same right as men to participate in the social and political life of the nation.15

As a symbolic gesture of solidarity, four female Egyptian university students submitted a petition written in their own blood to King Faruq, demanding equal rights for women.16_{Two days later, the council of administration of the}

Association of Sunnites submitted an anti-feminist petition signed by the chairman, Muhammad Hamid al-Fiki, to the palace, requesting the king to “Keep the Women Within Bounds!”

The feminist movement is a plot organized by the enemies of Islam and the Bolshevik-atheists, with the object of abolishing the remaining Muslim traditions in the country. They have used women, Muslim women, as a means to achieving their goal. They made the woman leave her realm which is the home, conjugal life, maternity. They have followed these hypocrites in participating

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with them in acts of charity which are nothing other than evil and corrupt. Not content with their exhibitions, hospitals and dispensaries, now they have created associations and parties that strive to demand equality with men, the limitation of divorce, the abolition of polygamy and entry into parliament. Your majesty, protect the orient and Islam.17

The king, who was not at all amused by all this feminist fuss in the wake of Doria’s assault on parliament, told her husband, whom he frequently met at the Automobile Club, “Let your wife know that as long as I am king, women will not have political rights!”

The trial was set for April 10. In anticipation, feminists and anti-feminists were carrying on a war of petitions. Doria meanwhile went to Athens on March 26 with Zaynab Labib to represent Egypt at the congress of the International Council of Women. She had been invited to present a talk on the results of Bint al-Nil Union’s literacy project among the urban poor. As a consequence of the dramatic situation awaiting her back in Egypt, she remarked ironically to the assembled delegates, “I noticed that the day after we stormed parliament in Egypt, the Greek government granted the women of Greece the right to vote. Others profit from our work!” She ended her speech by presenting a motion “requesting UNESCO to help all those countries who fight for the education of illiterate women.”18

Following her return from Athens and on the eve of her trial, Doria faced renewed public criticism from Ceza Nabaraoui and Inji Efflatoun, her erstwhile allies during the march on parliament. They published two articles in the Egyptian press (one in French, the other in Arabic) accusing Doria “of sharing a point of view contrary to the policy of the country and its national interest because Doria Shafik voted for an ICW resolution approving the occupation and supporting the argument of Great Britain concerning the maintenance of her troops on the Suez Canal under the pretext of defense.”19_{Doria’s answer was swift and direct: “I did not}

participate in any resolution about armaments, which would have been contrary to the principles of the peace charter, but simply to a motion supporting the right of every country to have its own system of defense.”20

This debate reveals how feminist issues became embroiled with cold war ideological struggles.

Finally the day which many Egyptian feminists were impatiently awaiting arrived, and Doria appeared before the tribunal, “dressed in a somber gray flannel suit, totally feminine, poised and charming. How delicate the president of Bint al-Nil appeared, surrounded, almost to the point of being carried off her feet, by lawyers enveloped in their austere black robes. Far from letting herself be intimidated by this solemn entourage, she personally defended the cause so dear to her heart and for which she struggles with so much energy. Because of the justice of the cause and its strong defense by these lawyers, who have honored the Egyptian Bar, the case was post- poned sine die.”21

In addition to Mufida Abdul Rahman, there were other lawyers “ honoring the Egyptian Bar.” They included Abdul Fatah Ragai, Doria’s father-in-law, who had helped her with the al-Sawi saga; Maurice Arcache, a prominent political lawyer from an upper-class Syrian-Lebanese background; and al-Kholi, the young Marxist, who commented that “Doria’s storming parliament surprised Nour al-Din and it came as a shock

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