It seems we have forgotten, as a global community, how to listen. We continue to judge, tell the “other” how to pursue change in their local struggle for rights. When Mona Eltahawy published her angry diatribe on “Why do they hate us” referring to Arab men and the plight of women in the Middle East, she fell victim to the misogynistic “white man's burden” that has become so pervasive in discussing women's issues, human rights and disenfranchised groups in the Middle East and elsewhere. Sitting outside Gandhi's little hut in Ahmedabad, I realized that we have stopped listening. We, as Westerners – of which Tahawy is now fully entrenched in – believe that Western ideology is the only way to create change. Thinking back to Gandhi's grassroots, nonviolent struggle to free India from the yoke of colonial rule, I wondered if we have missed his message. He spoke of India, as an Indian. But what he did, unlike too many commentators and activists in today's global community, was listened to the people. He traveled across India, hearing what Indians wanted, how they lived, their struggle and their desires for change. Had he simply pushed his own agenda, he might not have been able to create the mass mobilization that was the Indian independence movement. Today, articles such as Tahawy's, while full of accurate descriptions of the struggle facing women on a daily basis in the Middle East, fails because it preaches. It tells white western politicians exactly what they want to hear: that Arab women are in need of saving. That is dangerous. Throughout her piece, she describes Arab women as if they do not exist, that they have no say in their future. Certainly, since the uprisings in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya, women's rights have been pushed aside in favor of other “more important” issues. This is wrong, but Tahawy included, who are we to tell Arab women what their future holds. Simply because she is Arab, and a woman, does not give her free reign to preach. Arab women are stronger than this. They understand their situation far greater than someone who travels to the country every few months. Tahawy, it seems, has become the Ayyan Hirshi Ali of feminism. By calling oneself feminist does not make one the bearer of all women's rights issues. In fact, Tahawy has voiced her support against women's rights. She supported the French ban on the niqab. She makes good points throughout her work, but in the end, simply misses the reality on the ground facing real women on a daily basis. She must listen. Democracy is not inclusive. It is not a unifier. There are multiple perceptions of women and women's rights in the Middle East. Many conservative, many liberal and more in between. I think in many ways, the error of Tahawy's piece is that she has become a preacher, using her pulpit as a writer to speak for Arab women. The article self-serves her desire to be the story, instead of talking with local groups, both liberal and conservative, to get a consensus on the goals of locals, instead of putting women's rights into the western prism. Many of the women I have spoken to about the article argue the exact same. They believe that Tahawy misses the underlying causes of harassment, hatred and sexual violence. For them, it is power. Men are afraid that their dominion over women in Egypt, and across the region, is dwindling and they are on their last ditch effort to enforce their patriarchal system. “But it is dying,” said Mona Habib, a young 20-year-old Cairo University student and women's rights activist. “I think we are all fed up with a Westerner telling us about our situation. I like Mona and think she has something to offer, but she doesn't live here, she lives in America, so how can she know about all women's situations?” In many ways, the tone of the article, attacking Islam as the problem, makes dialogue difficult. For me, the construct of colonial attitudes we have ingrained in our psyches from growing up in the West are difficult to overcome. If anything, Tahawy's article has taught us an important need for communication. Her colonial approach serves to tell American politicians and leaders that they should “protect” and “liberate” the Arab woman. I spoke to many American women on the piece, and their overall attitude to the article was that it was great. While on the flipside, the Arab women I talked with were ashamed by the article, and the images of a naked woman painted in niqab. This tells us, as commentators, as westerners – of which Tahawy is one – that we must be aware of the local movements; that we cannot push any agenda, however great we think it may be, because those who struggle on a daily basis in the global south, have more agency and understand their situation better than any writer living in New York. Gandhi listened, learned and enabled Indians. We must also listen today.
