Mapping Arab Women's Movements: A Century of Transformations from Within

Introduction

Pernille Arenfeldt and Nawar Al-Hassan Golley

Mapping Arab Women’s Movements: A Century of Transformations from Within presents a pioneering collection of analyses focused on the ideologies and activities of formal women’s organizations and informal women’s groups across a range of Arab countries. With contributions on Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, Iraq, Egypt, Kuwait, United Arab Emirates, Yemen, and the Arab diaspora in the United States, Mapping Arab Women’s Movements contributes to delineating similarities and differences between historical and contemporary efforts toward greater gender justice. The contributing authors explore the origins of women’s movements, trace their development during the past century, and address the impact of counter-movements, alliances, and international collaborations within the region and beyond. As indicated by the title, the aim of the volume is to map the varied developments of women’s movements in the Arab region and to bring attention to the ways in which women’s organizations, in response to shifting contexts, have transformed themselves and contributed to the transformations of the societies in which they are rooted.

In spite of a growing body of scholarly literature and increasing attention to Arab women in the media both in the Middle East and globally, most Arab women’s movements remain under-researched. During the past two decades, several excellent analyses of women’s movements in a few countries in the region have been published, but the existing literature is dominated by a focus on Egypt and the non-Arab Middle Eastern countries such as Iran and Turkey.

However, searches for literature on women’s organizations in most of the Arab Gulf produce few results. And, in light of the long history of women’s organizations in the Levant, it is surprising that it is almost as challenging to find comprehensive accounts of women’s movements in Jordan and Syria. While there have been close ties between different countries in the region, one cannot understand the women’s movements in other parts of the Arab region through the prism of neighboring countries. The contributions to Mapping Arab Women’s Movements demonstrate the diverse developments in different Arab nation-states, thereby contributing to a more nuanced understanding of women’s movements in the Arab region. These varied developments also highlight the important fact that women’s movements are not, as often alleged, a ‘foreign import,’ but have emerged from within and whose agendas have been shaped by the specific characteristics of the societies in which they have been active.

As a result of the uneven distribution of the existing literature, the contributors to the volume faced very different challenges when developing the individual chapters. When writing about the developments in Egypt, one is faced with the daunting task of synthesizing a vast amount of scholarly literature, but when one embarks on an analysis of women’s movements in Yemen and the United Arab Emirates, for example, the dearth of accessible information is equally overwhelming. Contributors were requested to address specific issues such as the origins of women’s formal and informal organizations, the underlying ideologies, participation in international networks, class and racial diversities, counter-movements, and outcomes. However, the different points of departure in terms of existing literature, the varied developments of women’s movements in different parts of the Arab region, and the diverse approaches employed by the authors are of course visible in the contributions. In addition, the chronological frame of the individual chapters differs, reflecting the developments in different parts of the Arab region.

The contributing authors all have close ties to the nation-states their analyses focus on; some are citizens of the countries they have researched, but have not necessarily lived ‘at home’ for decades; others have lived and worked in the countries they write about for extended periods; and yet others have dedicated their academic careers to scholarship on the relevant nation-state. These different forms of connectedness to the countries they examine imply that the contributions offer varied perspectives on the developments. While it is both desirable and politically important to gain access to the insider’s perspective, the same sense of belonging can—as discussed by several activist scholars—condition the work in other ways. And, as stressed by Sheila Rowbotham, [c]onsiderations of the histories of the women’s movement can be painful because it is necessary to document defeats (Rowbotham 1996, 15). The actual and/or ideological involvement of most scholars working on women’s activism in the causes they write about implies that careful attention should be paid to their subject-positions. This also applies to the contributions to Mapping Arab Women’s Movements and, although we as editors have asked critical questions to the contributors and believe that one must strive toward balanced accounts, we are also of the conviction that absolute objectivity remains an illusion. Rather, we wish to encourage the readers to engage critically with each of the chapters (as well as the appendix) and the positionality of the authors.

In Chapter 1, we introduce the readers to some of the concepts that recur throughout the volume and discuss the structural and thematic developments of women’s movements across the region. The chapter concludes with reflections on future challenges and prospects of Arab women’s movements.

In Chapter 2, Leslie Lewis chronicles the development of social, political, and religious activism by women in Egypt over the last century. Drawing on ethnographic work, literary sources, and scholarly literature, she also examines Egyptian women’s current activism, their popular expression, and the extent to which, either by intent or effect, each has contributed to the advancement and agency of Egyptian women.

In Chapter 3, Pauline Homsi Vinson and Nawar Al-Hassan Golley examine the gains and setbacks experienced by Syrian women during the past century. Particular attention is paid to the continued obstacles to gender equality, especially with regard to citizenship and personal status laws. Their chapter highlights the ways in which the position of women in Syria is complicated by the experience of colonialism, nationalism, political Islam, and transnational feminism.

Against a brief discussion of the historical development of the women’s movement in Iraq, Nadje Al-Ali addresses the challenges facing women’s rights activists since the invasion of Iraq in 2003. In Chapter 4, Al-Ali examines the ways in which Iraqi women contest cultural contexts and challenge patriarchal and authoritarian interpretations from within, thus confirming that women’s rights in Iraq have been obtained as a result of indigenous efforts.

Drawing on extensive interviews and other sources, Rita Stephan surveys the various Lebanese women’s organizations with a particular focus on their leaderships and goals. Chapter 5 explores how Lebanese women’s rights activists have carried out their activism within their political, social, and religious structures. Stephan pays particular attention to the social and political institutions women have targeted (family, religion, state, and the intellectual community), and shows how Lebanese women have had to balance the demands for political and civil rights with their embeddedness in local social, political, and cultural structures.

In Chapter 6, Ibtesam Al-Atiyat maps the development of the women’s movement in Jordan since the 1940s. Highlighting the shifting priorities during the past sixty years, she identifies the different cycles through which the movement has developed and discusses the causes behind the shifts that can be observed. Particular attention is paid to contemporary forms of women’s activisms, the dominant discourses, and the women’s organizations’ interactions with the state, with Islamist groups, and with so-called tribalists.

Tracing the development of the Palestinian women’s movement in Chapter 7, Eileen Kuttab links the Palestinian women’s movement to the Palestinian liberation movement against British and Israeli Colonialism in the early stages and to Palestinian women grass-roots activities since the Oslo Accords in 1993. The chapter examines the structures of the movement, its leaderships, and policies and explores the challenges that have been shaping the movement in Palestine.

In Chapter 8, Amal Nejib al-Ashtal traces the development of women’s organizations in both North and South Yemen during the twentieth century. Departing from the emergence of the first women’s organizations in British-controlled Aden in the 1930s, she examines the strikingly dissimilar developments in the two Yemens. She discusses the far-reaching reforms in the South, the efforts and balancing act of pioneering health workers in the North, women’s involvement in the civil war, the challenges associated with the Yemeni unification, and the growing Islamist opposition during the 1990s. Reviewing the developments during the most recent decade, al-Ashtal asks whether women’s activism is strengthened by the presence of ever-growing numbers of active organizations, or if this development results in a weakening by duplication of efforts, competition over resources and competing interests.

In Chapter 9, Mary Ann Tétreault, Helen Rizzo, and Doron Shultziner examine the emergence of the first organized women’s groups in the 1960s and the development of different feminist strategies. These strategies were developed within particular political environments and facilitated advances for women in spite of recurrent backlashes. The chapter charts the path toward achievement of full political rights for women in 2005, and the authors examine women’s subsequent participation in local and national elections.

Vânia Carvalho Pinto, in Chapter 10, presents a systematic overview of Emirati women’s gradually increasing opportunities for education, professional development, and political participation. Carvalho Pinto argues that the state’s genderframing strategies have given rise to a modus of activism, which can be understood as a movement by implication.

In Chapter 11, Hanadi Al-Samman examines the activities of grass-roots North American Muslim women’s organizations and movements such as KARAMAH (Muslim Women Lawyers for Human Rights), the Peaceful Families Project, and Muslim Women’s Freedom Tour. She argues that the printed, visual, and virtual output of American and Canadian Muslim women activists, for instance, the Islamic woman’s magazine Azizah, Zarqa Nawaz’s documentary Me and the Mosque, as well as the online blog of Mohja Kahf "Sex and the Ummah," create a unique reclaimed feminine space for Muslim women, whose activist and emancipatory messages cross ethnic and national boundaries, in its efficacy and empowerment of Muslim women.

When contributions for Mapping Arab Women’s Movements were solicited, systematic efforts were made to include chapters on all Arab countries. Although this—perhaps over-ambitious—goal could not be achieved, we are delighted by the coverage of the volume. We were unable to locate contributors on Bahrain, Oman, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Sudan, and the countries in the Maghreb. In some cases the inability to elicit chapters on these countries reflects an urgent need for research, but important work has been published on the women’s movements in some of these countries (see references to some of these works in Chapter 1). Qatar, Oman, and Saudi Arabia remain intensely under-researched and, contrary to common assumptions, women’s organizations, including some organizations with transformative agendas, do exist there and deserve attention.

In an attempt to stimulate further research on the Arab Gulf countries we have included, as an appendix to Mapping Arab Women’s Movements, an English translation of the report Women’s Movements in the Gulf Countries that was published in Arabic by the Center for Women under the United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia (ESCWA) in 2005. We are grateful to ESCWA for granting us permission to publish this first English version of the report.

Mapping Arab Women’s Movements presents an abundance of new knowledge and, as we demonstrate in the discussion in Chapter 1, the publication of these analyses in a single volume contributes to an ongoing de-centering of the world by demonstrating that women’s movements and feminisms are not ‘western’ phenomena. The volume highlights the varied developments and context-specificity of Arab women’s movements and Arab feminisms, while also allowing similarities between the Arab countries to be traced.

In contemporary media and popular understanding, Arab countries are often associated with conflict, Islamic fundamentalism, tribalism, conservatism, authoritarianism, and women’s oppression. As a result, it is perhaps understandable why a reference to Arab women’s movements often triggers surprise. As the editors of Mapping Arab Women’s Movements, it is our hope that the volume can serve both as a teaching tool that can facilitate a systematic engagement with the century-long history and the current efforts of various women’s movements in the Arab region, and as a tool for scholars who wish to develop more in-depth comparisons and contextualization in research on women’s movements. Mapping Arab Women’s Movements also represents an attempt to overcome what Sheila Rowbotham has identified as a major weakness of women’s movements, namely their inherent forgetfulness (Rowbotham 1996, 13). Engaged as they are with the present and the effort to transform a given status quo, the region’s more or less formalized women’s movements rarely award priority to the task of documenting their own activities. Hence, by bringing together this collection of analyses, we wish to provide young Arab women and men with access to the ‘memory’ of the efforts that have been mounted by their parents’, grandparents’, and, in some cases, great-grandparents’ generation with a view to enhancing gender equality and, thus, to encourage them to continue to work toward gender justice in the Arab region.

Bibliography

Rowbotham, Sheila. 1996. Introduction. Mapping the Women’s Movement. In Mapping the Women’s Movement: Feminist Politics and Social Transformation in the North, edited by Monica Threllfall, 1–16. London and New York: Verso.

1

Arab Women’s Movements:

Developments, Priorities, and Challenges

Pernille Arenfeldt and Nawar Al-Hassan Golley

This chapter synthesizes some of the central findings presented in the ensuing chapters. In the first section we discuss some of the key concepts; part two outlines the main trends in the developments of the women’s movements across the region and identifies their main priorities. We conclude the chapter with a discussion of the recurring/future challenges of Arab women’s movements.

Arab Women’s Movements

The purpose of Mapping Arab Women’s Movements is to disseminate empirical knowledge and to stimulate further research; the volume is not intended as a systematic contribution to the rapidly growing theoretical literature on social movements, women’s movements, and feminism. However, because the same concepts obviously are central to the subject matter, a discussion of these terms—movement and feminism—is pertinent, not least because any engagement with Arab women’s movements also involves complex translation challenges. The opening discussion of the central concepts is primarily intended to help readers who are new to the field acquire a first impression of the ways in which these key terms have been problematized by other scholars and how definitions of the terms we employ shape analyses and conclusions. In addition, the reflections on the terminology highlight the fact that Arab women’s movements developed and operated in spite of conceptual and linguistic challenges.

Drawing upon the existing scholarly literature, Mapping Arab Women’s Movements takes a pluralistic approach to women’s movements. According to Sandra Grey and Marian Sawer, a broad definition of movement is required in order to encompass a whole variety of women’s collective and individual actions, from organizations seeking political and civil rights for women, to feminist reformers in the interstices of national and transnational institutions, to cultural feminism and liberationist and separatist movements (Grey and Sawer 2008, 5). In addition, and equally important, the same broad definition challenges the implicit male gendering of the most common definitions of social movements through an emphasis on mass rallies, ‘dissent events,’ and at times violence (Grey and Sawer 2008, 4). When addressing Arab women’s movements one has to extend the pluralism even further and include women’s organizations that accept and perhaps even sustain an existing status quo (rather than seeking to change it) through support for women in vulnerable positions (as, for example, widows and divorcees). When ‘movement’ is defined by collective engagement in the broader sense, rather than by numerical parameters or formal characteristics of organizations/associations, one can identify a wide range of actions Arab men and women have taken to enhance gender equity throughout the twentieth century. The chapters demonstrate that this pluralistic approach to ‘movements’ is indeed necessary in order to consider both those groups with an explicit feminist agenda and formal as well as informal organizations that, in retrospect, can be viewed as having contributed to greater gender equality, but do not have this as a stated priority.

As Amrita Basu has pointed out, one must distinguish between women’s movements and feminism. She elaborates on this distinction by highlighting that women’s movements are defined by their constituencies, namely, women, but can address a variety of goals, whereas feminism has specified goals, of challenging gender inequality, but its constituencies can be male or female (Basu 2010, 4–5). The contributors to Mapping Arab Women’s Movements confirm this and show that many women’s organizations do not have transformative agendas and many feminists are not organized in movements. In the context of the Arab region one could make further distinctions, namely between organizations and movements. Indeed, in parts of the Arab region, for example in parts of the Gulf, there may be organizations without movements and, as Vânia Carvalho Pinto argues, there may also be movements without distinct organizations, what Pinto terms a movement by implications.

In the context of the Arab region, a broad definition of movements is particularly important because most Arab states have very restrictive laws regarding the formation of civic groups (Chatty and Rabo 1997, 1, 12–13). While some Arab countries have eased the restrictions during the most recent decades (1990s–2000s), civil society across the region remains subject to close scrutiny by governments. Yet, the fact that women’s rights to independently form formal groups have been restricted does not mean that they have not done so, only that some groups have remained informal or have operated clandestinely.

Women’s Unions, Feminism, and Gender in Arabic

The women’s movements that are discussed in this volume carried a wide-ranging spectrum of names. However, visible patterns in the Arabic naming practices deserve attention. The Arabic names of the formal organizations often include the term ‘woman’/imra’a. However, because this usage of ‘woman’ (in the singular) differs from commonly used English usage of ‘women’ for most comparable organizations, it would seem artificial to employ a literal translation and, as a result, we generally refer to women’s movements, women’s organizations, and women’s unions throughout the book.

Hence, the most frequently used Arabic names for the ‘women’s unions’ that became widespread across the region from the 1960s to the 1970s were ittihad al-mar’a or al-ittihad al-nisa’i (Woman’s Union or the Womanly Union). While nisa’ is the formal/written Arabic term for women (that is, the plural of imra’a/woman), in spoken Arabic the more casual term niswan or nasawin (a colloquial/slang term for women employed in many Arabic dialects)¹ is commonly used. Although the term niswan for women is a classic (fusha) Arabic term (it is listed together with niswa and nisa’ in the major lexicon Lisan al-‘Arab), it is not used in Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine, Egypt, and Syria as a standard Arabic term. It is used rather colloquially or has acquired a slang status. Indeed, in the spoken Egyptian Arabic, niswan (and even the singular term mar’a) has been subject to a semantic shift. The two words are often used pejoratively in the countries mentioned above.²

These linguistic developments implied that the women’s unions could be referred to mockingly with the colloquial words for women niswan/nasawin, both of which suggested that the unions were predominantly places for women’s socializing. In reality, women’s unions have functioned in a variety of ways. In some Arab countries, the unions have played important roles in advancing women’s status and employed international frameworks to articulate feminist agendas. Yet, both the connotations of the name and the unions’ frequent status as government auxiliaries contributed to an ambiguous and, at times, unfavorable view of the unions. Further research on the varied developments and views across the region is needed in order to draw firm conclusions, but anecdotal evidence suggests that in some Arab countries (for example, Syria and Iraq) some women were reluctant to associate themselves with the unions because they questioned the sincerity of the feminism represented by the unions (and the state). However, it should also be noted that in other parts of the Arab region, for example in South Yemen during the socialist regime, some groups of women were hesitant vis-à-vis the unions, because they perceived their agenda to be too radical.

The challenges associated with the Arabic terminology are even more complex when the focus is shifted from names to the concept of feminism(s). As Amal al-Ashtal points out in her chapter on Yemen, many of the Arabic terms that are employed in discussions of and by women’s movements, especially if addressing feminist agendas, are subject to misunderstanding, controversy, and inconsistency. While women in other parts of the world have grappled with accepting or rejecting the label ‘feminist,’³ women in the Arabic-speaking world continue to face an added challenge: the imprecision of the used/coined Arabic terms for feminism/feminist.

In Arabic, there is not a single unambiguous term for feminism and the terms that have been employed, nisa’i and niswi, appear only in written and academic contexts. It is equally challenging to identify an Arabic word that captures the meaning of the English term feminist. The first term for feminist to be used in Arabic was nisa’i; the same was used in referring to women’s movements, harakat nisa’iya. Nisa’i is derived from the word nisa’ (women). The word niswi, derived from the word niswa (also women), is also used to mean feminist. Both niswi and nisa’i are equally short of the meaning of feminism as they are both directly derived from the Arabic words for women (nisa’ or niswa) (Badran 2009, 218).

An interesting and related point is that even well into the 1990s, English–Arabic dictionaries list the word niswi as a synonym for feminine (unthawi) and female (untha), thereby equating terms that in English have very different meanings, with ‘female’ referring to a biological concept and ‘feminine’ as a socioculturally shaped quality.⁴ The unsatisfactory dimension of the existing terminology is evidenced by its continued evolution. Hence, in his Arabic translation of Edward Said’s Culture and Imperialism published in 1997, Kamal Abu Deeb coined the term unuthi for feminist and unuthiya for feminism. Both unuthi and unuthiya are derived from the word untha, meaning female (Abu Deeb 1997, 53) and, as such, mark an important departure from the nisa’i and niswi and, hence, from the associated ‘woman’ism that the two terms denote.

The lack of a single Arabic word without ambiguities for feminism has been/is used by opponents in an attempt to argue that feminism is a western import. As a result of both the ambiguities and the way in which this has been employed by opponents, some Arab women activists and women’s rights supporters may not necessarily call themselves feminists although they may have feminist beliefs. One can observe a similar reluctance to self-identify as feminists among women in other parts of the world, though it should be remembered that this reluctance in general is prompted by different and context-specific reasons. Referring to a comparable phenomenon in Poland, Basu has argued that, certain acts—and one may add ideas—can be deemed feminist by virtue of their impact, regardless of the ways activists view them (Basu 2010, 4).⁵ Finally, it should be noted that feminist thinking preceded the term feminism across the world, often taking the form of feminist cultural expressions as predecessors of women’s movements (Basu 2010, 5), as one also can observe in parts of the Middle East such as Syria, Lebanon, Palestine, and Egypt where literary salons, magazines, and journals were established by women at the turn of the twentieth century.

To complicate matters further, feminist ideas are subject to continual changes, and feminism is therefore an unstable and context-specific concept. What constituted a daring proposition in 1900 (for example, compulsory education for women that exceeded basic reading, religious instruction, and embroidery) is less likely to be perceived as a feminist idea today; though one should note that there indeed are communities in which this idea would be viewed as revolutionary. However, and as evidenced throughout the following chapters, it is striking that some aspects of gender equality continue to be perceived as daring and radical (for example, women’s complete citizenship, including their right to transfer it to their spouse and children).

The concept of gender is central to feminism and it is equally challenging to find an adequate Arabic term that captures the meaning of gender. Although the Arabic terms for ‘gender’ have received more systematic attention from scholars, the terminology used in relation to ‘gender’ remains complex and tensions are unresolved.⁶ Gender in its early translation as jins, meaning sex, was criticized because talking about sex was a taboo; in its later form, jandar, it was rejected as a foreign import; in its latest form, naw‘ ijtima‘i (social type), it is criticized for awkwardness.

These reflections—on movements, feminism, and the Arabic terminology—underline the context-specificity of Arab women’s movements and Arab feminisms, a point that has been emphasized by numerous scholars.⁷ If writing exclusively to fellow academics, it may seem superfluous to emphasize the fact that both women’s movements and feminisms exist and have existed throughout the Arab region in numerous and culturally specific versions. However, to those who are only just embarking on the study of Arab women’s movements or Arab feminism, this is a crucial message. The discussion also illustrates that it is imperative to employ a broad and inclusive definition of women’s movements. Many of the organizations and associations that appear on the following pages did not consider claiming political or civic rights for women (in fact, some continue to be against these rights as discussed in the chapter on Kuwait). Even so, the same associations have contributed to and continue to impact the ways in which the role and status of women evolve.

Structural and Thematic Transformations of Arab Women’s Movements

The chapters in Mapping Arab Women’s Movements bring attention to the varied developments, priorities, and achievements of the women’s movements across the region. The authors show that the movements in each country have been shaped by the specific circumstances of the societies in which they evolved. However, and in spite of the great variations, the contributions also allow one to identify some common thematic and structural traits among the women’s movements across the region.

Some of these traits correspond to observations presented in the available literature; for example, the literary and cultural forms of feminism that led to a women’s press, the dominance of charitable agendas among early women’s organizations, the close ties between the nationalist movements and the women’s movements, and the development of state feminism.⁸ However, the contributions in this volume also bring new nuances to these developments.

Emergences of Women’s Movements

In several parts of the Middle East, the literary and cultural feminism and the first female-led philanthropic organizations emerged simultaneously with the rise of nationalism and the discussions about gender relations were often closely tied to the modernization efforts. The earliest manifestations of this can be observed in Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine. And, as highlighted by Rita Stephan, the women who contributed to the emerging debate often had ties to several cities within these territories. While Pauline Homsi Vinson and Nawar Al-Hassan Golley emphasize the literary and cultural feminism, the philanthropic work, the development of women’s presses, and increased calls for women’s education in late nineteenth-century and early twentieth-century Syria, they also highlight that these activities included a political dimension, namely the anticolonialist and nationalist reconceptualization of women’s roles. Eileen Kuttab identifies a comparable organic link between a feminist awakening and the national issue in conjunction with the formation of the first Palestinian Women’s Union in 1919.

Across these territories, the role of women figured prominently in the debates about modernization. However, even if women’s roles were centrally positioned in these debates, the goal of reformers was not, as stressed by Leslie Lewis, to emancipate women in the sense of granting them equal civic and political rights. Some Egyptian women embraced the vision of a new woman, but others viewed it as a rejection of Egyptians’ own cultural and religious history and identity, and worked instead for change that retained that identity. They found a solution in the Islamic reform movement that emphasized renewal and reform within an Islamic framework. In Egypt, these two coexisting trends resulted in a feminist consciousness articulated through the discourses of Islam and nationalism, both of which are visible from the late nineteenth century.

Further research on the early phases of the women’s movements in the Levant is needed in order to determine the degree to which a similar tension existed in these territories. However, the opposition to missionary schools in Syria (discussed by Homsi Vinson and Al-Hassan Golley) and the pronounced idealization of western achievements by some Lebanese women (revealed in Stephan’s chapter) indicate that this indeed was the case also in the neighboring territories.

In Iraq, women participated in the nationalist movement that emerged from the 1920s. The first women’s association, the Women’s Awakening Club, was founded in 1923. According to Nadje Al-Ali they focused their attention on supporting women’s education, women’s suffrage, and entry into the labor force. These priorities are remarkable for a pioneering organization especially in light of the simultaneous emergence of several women-led charitable organizations that dedicated their efforts to poverty, illiteracy, and health-related projects during the 1930s. The priorities of the Women’s Awakening Club and the Iraqi Women’s Union (founded 1945), which also had an explicit feminist agenda, reflect the influence exercised by the Egyptian Feminist Union through the early regional collaborations. As other women’s organizations in the region, the Iraqi Women’s Union was involved in charity work, advocated women’s education, and maintained contacts to other women’s organizations inside Iraq and across the Arab world. However, the Union also pushed the existing boundaries by addressing previous taboo issues such as prostitution, divorce and child custody, women’s working conditions and property rights.

As Amal al-Ashtal shows, the women’s movement in North Yemen also had its origins in women’s efforts to improve healthcare and was inspired by developments in other parts of the Arab region. In 1955, the World Health Organization established a nursing institute in San‘a and sent nursing instructors from Lebanon, Egypt, and Syria. The ruling Imam Ahmed reluctantly accepted this project and only on the condition that the institute refrain from any political activities. In spite of this, the women within the nursing institute formed a women’s association and in 1960 they organized their first demonstration claiming women’s right to education and work. This—and the imam’s belief that Egyptian and Lebanese instructors at the institute were enticing Yemeni women—led to the closure of the institute in 1961 and to tight control of women’s groups.

In British-ruled Aden, a women’s movement was already underway by then. In the 1940s, the British established the Veiled Women’s Society with the purpose of creating first-aid kits to be used by the British for the injured victims of the Second World War. In 1943, the British Council founded the Adeni Women’s Club. The activities of the women’s club reflected its colonial and bourgeois roots and included instruction in English, embroidery, cookery, tea parties, and screening English films. These priorities help explain why very few Adeni women got involved. However, the same agenda—unwittingly—contributed to the development of a political and nationalist consciousness among Adeni women. In 1954, they challenged the British leadership and demanded a greater consideration of their interests. During the 1950s and 1960s, the women in the south were further mobilized through the independence movement and a cultural and literary feminism became visible. However, at the same time, one also began to see different branches of women’s organized activities develop: from the bourgeois Adeni Women’s Association to more radical socialist and nationalist groups. The divisions between different women’s organizations that became visible in South Yemen during the 1950s can also be observed in Iraq when, during the late 1940s and 1950s, a group of women who had been active in the independence movement formed the League for the Defense of Women’s Rights with close ties to the Communist Party.

As in Egypt and the Levant, nationalism, modernization efforts, and the associated disagreements about what the future state and society should become, are also evident in the Iraqi and Yemeni movements here. However, while the discussion in Egypt and the Levant above all was shaped by the opposition between westernization and traditionalists, the tensions in Iraq and South Yemen during the 1950s and 1960s also reflected the ideological positions that were shaped by the Cold War.

The developments that can be observed in Jordan represent a slightly different pattern and the Jordanian women’s movements have been shaped by close ties to the royal family. Ibtesam Al-Atiyat identifies an emergence phase, dominated by educated women with close ties to the political elite, in the mid-1940s. Both the Women’s Solidarity Association (1945) and the Women’s Union Society (1947) had royal women as figureheads and the members of the Society were primarily women with close ties to the royal family. These organizations did not have an explicit feminist agenda and their maternalistic priorities reflected the privileged sociopolitical status of the members.

In both Kuwait and Bahrain, women’s organized activities began in the 1950s and early 1960s. As in Aden, the first Bahraini women’s organization, the Ladies’ Club, was founded in 1954 by the British and presided over by the wife of the British Commissioner. In Kuwait, the first women’s organization (the Arab Women’s Development Society) was founded in 1962–63, but was soon followed by the Women’s Cultural and Social Society (1963). The two Kuwaiti organizations jointly formed the Kuwaiti Women’s Union in the early 1970s but, because of an increasing politicization, the government intervened and dissolved the union. In both Bahrain and Kuwait, the earliest associations were dominated by women of privileged status and the primary aims of the organizations were health initiatives/first aid training and Charity work. However, in both of these Gulf countries, numerous other organizations developed during the following decades and, in contrast to the neighboring Gulf countries, Kuwait and Bahrain have organizations with explicit feminist agendas. In Kuwait, the Nadi al-Fatat (Girls Club) campaigned for women’s political rights already in the mid-1970s (see the chapter on Kuwait and the appendix for further details).⁹

In contrast to Kuwait and Bahrain, which are hosts to several independent women’s organizations with different agendas, and as summarized in the UN-ESCWA report (see the appendix), the developments in Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates differ in fundamental ways. In all of the four countries, the initiative to form women’s organizations originated with the state: in Saudi Arabia from the 1960s, in the territories that later became the United Arab Emirates from the late 1960s and early 1970s, in Oman from the 1970s, and in Qatar from the 1980s and only in very limited numbers. However, as Munira Fakhro and Munira al-Nahidh suggest in the ESCWA report with reference to Saudi Arabia, some of the organizations that gained official recognition during the 1960s may well have been preceded by less formalized associations. One of the key differences between the women’s organizations one can identify in Kuwait and Bahrain on the one hand, and the other four Gulf countries on the other, is the lack of independence of the women’s associations and women’s unions in the latter. As Fakhro and al-Nahidh diplomatically observe (again with reference to Saudi Arabia), there is close cooperation between government bodies and civic organizations and the government ultimately defines how the civic associations should operate. This implies that these organizations are essentially government auxiliaries and that these countries are characterized by particular forms of state feminism.

The early Arab women’s movements—as early women’s movements in other parts of the world—were dominated by maternalistic priorities. However, this included widespread efforts to improve healthcare and women’s education. Although the education that was promoted often sought to reproduce the ideals of woman as wife and mother, the lasting influences are significant and it is crucial to refrain from anachronistic judgments of the priorities pursued by the early organizations. This said, it is noteworthy that all contributors to Mapping Arab Women’s Movements stress the elitist character of the early women’s movements. While these similarities are striking, the chapters also highlight the different chronologies of the Arab women’s movements and show how the emergence of the first organizations often coincide with national independence and were shaped by particular state-formation processes. The ideologies of the early organizations were shaped by time- and place-specific concerns. Nationalism played an important role in large parts of the Arab region but, from the 1950s, the ideological positions multiplied and included both liberal and socialist/communist groups.

Post-Independence Priorities and State Feminism

Although women played a significant role in the independence movements in several Arab territories, their contributions were disregarded when the new and independent nation-states allocated civil and political rights. As a result, the post-independence efforts of Women’s movements were dedicated to rectifying these constitutionally defined inequalities (for example in Egypt during the 1920s to 1940s, Iraq from the 1920s and with greater force from the 1940s, Syria and and Lebanon from the 1930s to 1940s, and Kuwait from the 1970s). However, as pointed out in the chapter on Kuwait, it is important to recognize that not all women have been, or are, in favor of women’s political equality.

Women did obtain suffrage in Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt during the 1950s, although other calls for legal reforms (the demands for revisions of the personal status codes were particularly strong) went unheeded. Moreover, around the very same time that women gained the right to vote (1950s–1960s), increasingly undemocratic tendencies became manifest across a range of Arab countries. The growingly autocratic character of the same states became visible in an effort to curb the activities of various organizations and movements. With regard to the women’s movements, this development implied a transition to the much-debated state feminism.

In Egypt, Syria, and Iraq, the governments instituted far-reaching reforms that sought to further education, health, and social welfare for both women and men, and women were promoted to positions of leadership. The contributing authors provide nuanced assessments of state feminism. According to Leslie Lewis, Egyptian state feminism enabled women to make inroads in all sectors and, in Iraq, the Ba‘th Party, which held power from the late 1960s, actively sought out women to incorporate them into the labor force. And, while Al-Ali raises important questions about the motives behind the reforms initiated by the Ba‘th Party, the emancipation of women was central in [their] attempt to transform society and provided free childcare and maternity benefits in an attempt to ensure that women could enter the labor force. In South Yemen, the socialist regime exercised strict control over civil society but, through the state-sponsored General Union of Yemeni Women, it actively sought to integrate women into social, economic, and political activity. In the early 1970s, the same regime also introduced a Personal Status Code that granted women almost complete legal equality with men and, as in the case of Iraq during the late 1950s, women exercised significant pressure in conjunction with the revision of the Personal Status Code.

As mentioned above, several Gulf countries have been and continue to be dominated by pronounced forms of state feminism. In light of the existing literature, the most ‘complete’ forms of state feminism can be found in Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates.¹⁰ The existing organizations were all founded on government initiatives and remain subject to government control. According to Fakhro and al-Nahidh, their activities often reproduce rather than challenge a traditional and stereotypical position for women. This said, one cannot simply dismiss women’s activism in the same countries, for as pointed out by Fakhro and al-Nahidh, women have constituted effective pressure groups in Saudi society.

Vânia Carvalho Pinto brings other nuances to the practice of state feminism with a particular focus on the United Arab Emirates. Arguing that one can observe a movement by implications, she shifts attention away from a narrowly defined state feminism and specific policies in order to show how the ideational changes initiated by the government and resulting from policies have created an ideological space for a movement (by implication). This is perhaps particularly significant because it brings to light the tension that exists between some far-reaching reforms and the more traditional values that, according to Fakhro and al-Nadidh, have been perpetuated by the government-sponsored women’s associations in the United Arab Emirates. In Kuwait, a similar tension can be seen between a government that seeks to promote women’s rights and conservative views that prevail among the most visible political groups of society. As pointed out by Mary Ann Tétreault, Helen Rizzo, and Doron Shultziner, the constitutional arrangement meant that the government was unable to enact women’s enhanced rights into law, that is, the elected members of the legislature objected to the reforms proposed by the ruling family and their appointees.

Although scholars have been able to document the existence and influence of informal women’s groups,¹¹ and even if the state-initiated reforms led to remarkable improvements for (some) women, state feminism—in its varied forms—came at a price. With only a few exceptions (South Yemen and Iraq), personal status laws, which, in the words of Leslie Lewis, had a far greater effect on most women’s lives, remained beyond reach. In addition, the termination of all independent women’s organizations have led some scholars to argue that state feminism paralyzed women’s activism (Fleischmann 1999, 119–20).

State feminism remains a reality in large parts of the Arab region and will remain unless democratization processes advance. However, while participatory democracies are likely to transform the current versions of state feminism, they will not automatically undo it and, if transformed in other ways, it may be undesirable to abandon it. As demonstrated in the contributions to Mapping Arab Women’s Movements, there is not a single version of state feminism. Rather, and as with other forms of feminism, one must speak of state feminisms (in the plural) in order to highlight the variations and bring attention to the fact these forms of feminisms—as others—are malleable and subject to continued transformation.

Recent and Contemporary Trends

Keeping in mind that one can observe varied developments, the contributions to Mapping Arab Women’s Movements allow another three more recent trends to be delineated: (i) internationalization; (ii) NGO-ization; and (iii) an expansion of religious discourses on women and gender equality. Each of the three trends have been subject to numerous studies, but the chapters in this volume draw attention to the ways in which these developments have impacted some of the countries that have received little or no attention in the existing literature. Before discussing the specifics of these trends, it should be stressed that the developments they represent are ongoing, that they overlap chronologically, and that they unfold in context-specific forms. In some cases, these trends have also overlapped with forms of state feminism, as for example in the Gulf countries, or they coexist with strong nationalism, as is the case in Palestine because of the unfinished exertion for statehood. At times, the three trends reinforce each other, but in other instances, they can be at odds.

Internationalization

Focusing on the internationalization of Arab women’s movements, it is pertinent to stress that Arab women’s movements—as women’s movements in other parts of the world—have a long history of internationalism. One can observe active ties both between women’s groups within the Arab world and between Arab women’s organizations and groups outside the region. The international and transnational collaborations of the women’s movements, including those in the Arab countries, have recently been the subject of study,¹² and are also addressed in several of the individual contributions to this volume; see for example the references to the Syrian-Lebanese Women’s Union in the late 1920s, the Arab and Asian women’s networks and the Eastern Women’s congresses of the 1930s, the pan-Arab women’s conference and the Arab Women’s Union in the 1940s in the chapter on Syria, and Al-Ali’s account of the background of the formation of the Iraqi Women’s Union. In addition, Hanadi Al-Samman brings attention to the debates that unfold among the large Muslim diaspora and the ways in which Muslim women’s networks seek to build bridges to the Arab region.

A couple of the chapters in Mapping Arab Women’s Movements address another—and less well-known—form of international collaboration, namely the informal individual and collaborative efforts that have coexisted with, facilitated, and been furthered by the formalized organizations and networks. The most striking example is perhaps the collaboration between Egyptian, Lebanese, and Syrian healthcare workers in North Yemen and the ruling imam’s perception of the ‘danger’ this represented. However, Munira Fakhro and Munira al-Nadidh also highlight ways in which Bahraini Women were influenced by exposure to developments in other parts of the region and both Rita Stephan and Nadje Al-Ali refer to the communication between individual women and women’s groups during the early part of the twentieth century.

Although one can trace both formal and informal international and transnational collaborations to the 1920s and 1930s, this trend has been intensified in the post–Second World War era and particularly since the United Nations’ Decade for Women (1976–85). Women from different