One of my first entries focused on the type of harassment I received in this country. I also wrote about how an older gentleman silently took me under his wing on the way to work and protected me from the barrage of sexual comments.
While I'm sure this entry was a darling feel-good story. It has rarely been repeated and after 4 months in this country, I am sad to say, Egyptian Self-Policing has essentially been revealed as either hypocrisy or a myth.
I have been ass-grabbed while walking, felt up in crowded sidewalks, and had my thigh molested by an 11-year-old boy who looked me in the eyes and leered in English "I like sex!"
I've chased every man who's laid a hand on me and yelled "Haram Aleek" (Shame, shame on you) and done my best to batter them in any way I can.
According to AIESEC, guidebooks and people who have their heads up their asses, this sort of reaction on my part should produce a flood of kofta-eating knights in shining armor stepping in and stopping the molesters. No Luck, I chased a kid on a bicycle for a block after he grabbed me, and all the adults did was crane their necks to stare at the white girl running in flip flops.
Last night, was probably the low point of my time here in Egypt. I was walking from Downtown to Dokki, in the early evening, on a fairly bustling street through a nice part of town and a man came up behind me, wrapped his arms fully around me like a bear-hug in order to grab my ass. I shrieked in surprise at being demobilized and he got spooked and ran.
I chased him, beating him with my purse, yelling as loud as I could. The groups of people around me just kept walking. A taxi pulled to the side of the road to see if the recent harassment has dissuaded me from walking, and maybe would I prefer the comfort of an overpriced cab?
At that point, I gave up. I sat down on the side of the road and had myself a good cry.
I am sorry, but I am tired of this country treating me like its own personal dry-hump doll. I punched that child who told me he wanted to have sex with me, I've spit at people, I've yelled, I've ignored it. It doesn’t do any good.
Egyptians still fail to step in when they see it happen, but pat themselves on the back because all the guidebooks give them credit for taking care of foreigners. The treatment of Western women in this country is a serious problem, and one I don’t know the solution to. All I'm certain of is it doesn’t rely on the population punishing the offender. A better measure has to be taken. While there have been a few times someone has tried to help stop overpricing in shops or cabs, not once has someone stepped up when I have been assaulted.
The treatment I receive simply for being female and white is dragging on me. It makes it hard for me to fulfill the mission I was supposedly brought here to do- bridge the gap. Sexual assault isn't a cultural misunderstanding. It is about a lack of respect. It is about treating people as objects, and fundamentally regardless of age, race, background, these men who touch me know it is wrong.
Claiming it’s a cultural issue is essentially saying as a woman, I lack basic human rights, but its okay, because you know, this is Egypt after all.
It makes it hard to want to open myself up to a culture that makes me feel so threatened that I always walk on the traffic side when passing people on the road because I am afraid of being pinned against cars.
It's hard to respect the people when the majority of my interactions with Egyptian males involve some kind of intimidation.
For every man that gestures at me or gropes me, there are 300 who walk by peaceably. But these fellows just don't leave an imprint the same way a guy who corrals you against the walls of a mosque in order to leer and gesture at your breasts with his hands does.
While I understand that the behavior is a representation of only a segment of the overall population. It happens often enough and has enough of an effect on me that I am always on the offensive. And I have yet to see that Egyptian alpha male take on the "someday my prince will come" void.
What makes me sad is that the bad is starting to eclipse the good in this city, and when I leave, there is a chance all I'll remember is how often I wanted to attack, not the great adventures (which have slowed to a non-existent halt) or the many times I felt welcomed and included.
I am actively trying to reignite my love affair with this city, and hopefully in a couple weeks, I will have a couple more cute stories about break dancing under my belt, and everything will be fine again.
