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Lina Sinjab explains why despite some relaxation of
social attitudes in Syrian society - at least in the
capital, Damascus - the equality of the sexes is still a
long way off.
Damascus is getting trendier these day. As
Syria
opens up, western-style cafes and restaurants are
mushrooming.
Men and women gather together, sipping coffee and smoking
and in the evenings, bars are filled with liberal-minded
Damascenes gathering over a bottle of wine or Arak, the
local aniseed-flavoured spirit.
 Nights
out may start with a lively debate about politics and end up
on the dance floor.
But as common as such scenes are these days in the
capital, in much of the country they are not the norm. Women
in most parts of Syria still live lives dictated by
tradition, religion, and family. You have to look very
carefully to uncover their stories, because they are so
often hidden away in this rigid society.
Shiny dresses
Some women's lives, I think, are like Damascene houses,
buildings that may look obscure and dull from the outside,
but inside the wooden doors, there are beautiful courtyards
with brimming fountains. In the outskirts of Damascus,
21-year-old Zainab is getting married. She did not meet her
husband in a bar or a restaurant. In fact, she did not meet
him at all before they were engaged. Like many weddings,
hers was arranged by her parents. She is used to doing what
she is told. Zainab is a schoolteacher. She works a full day
and then takes on another job when she gets home, cooking
and cleaning for the family. The sharp division of the sexes
here extends to the wedding party itself. I saw this for
myself at Zainab's celebration. As I entered the hall, it
was filled with women, their hands and heads uncovered. The
bride sat in her white dress at the centre of the stage.
Around her all the young girls, in long shiny dresses,
danced to music. They clearly envied the bride and hoped,
one day, to be in her place. It looked like fun, and yet
there was a traditional purpose to the festivities. The
smiles and shimmies of the women were intended to impress
the mothers of potential future husbandsI looked around me,
astonished at how blatant this was. The rows of chairs were
filled with older women. Their eyes scanned the stage and
their hands covered their mouths as they whispered to each
other, discussing the young women as if they were goods in a
shop window. That's the daughter of Abu Mahmoud, the
neighbourhood shopkeeper," one old lady said. The family is
reputable and they are devoted Muslims. I am sure my son
will be happy to have her
 ."
Headscarves on
Surprisingly, in patriarchal societies like
Syria,
it is often mothers who reinforce discrimination against
women. They tell their daughters, "You cannot do that, you
are a girl!" or "You have to respect your brother, he is the
man. What your brother says goes!" For girls like Zainab, it
is quite normal to do things their family's way. Any other
way seems quite impossible. Then the groom arrived. All of
the women covered up. Headscarves went on and the dancing
stopped.Damascus is one liberal bubble in Syria, but even
here women feel the traditional barriers around them. Almost
every woman, once she steps out of her house, exposes
herself to some degree of harassment. Whether covered or
uncovered, women here are used to hearing foul language and
sexual suggestions from frustrated teenagers, sometimes even
from older men.
Wandering hands
They are also used to seeing men look hungrily at them as
they walk by in the street. Sometimes the men brush against
them, touching parts of their body. This is strictly
forbidden of course, but these incidents are rarely
reported. In a modern cafe in Damascus, Hiba and Laila, both
in their mid-30s, sip tea after a long working day.
Dressed in jeans and tight trendy tops, with modern
hairstyles, they chat, swapping details of their busy lives.
They are typical of
Syria's urban middle classes. Successful
working women, the main bread-winners for their families,
they are strong, and they speak up for themselves.
Still, they feel that society is not ready for women like
them.
"Men are scared of going out with an independent strong
woman," Laila told me. "They want a woman who won't argue."
Heba, a lawyer, laughed ruefully while lighting her
cigarette, and told me how women are treated in her
profession.
"As Islam reckons we are worth only half a man," she told
me, "two women are required to witness a legal document
which one man, by himself, could sign."
"Anyway some people still prefer a male lawyer to a
female one," she says. "They see men as more credible."
Things are changing in
Syria,
and there are a handful of activists who are fighting for
more equal treatment of women.
But if discrimination still affects even people like Heba
and Laila, it is clear change will be slow to come
BBC News. |
