i have this picture someone took of me, back in 2003 while i was in egypt. the six months i spent at american university in cairo happened to be at the time the war on iraq was starting. on march 20, 2003, i took to the streets along with friends and thousands of other egyptians, who protested in tahrir square that day. the energy was powerful, palpable. we all needed release. i'm not sure if we thought our protest would do any good - the US seemed hell bent on going to war regardless of public opinion. but what i do remember that day was catharsis - the releasing of energy we had collectively pent up for so long. the next day, mubarak's government promptly banned further protests. i remember this day vividly. police officers forming a barricade around protesters to contain us. i remember that many of them wished they could be protesting with us. they were just doing their jobs, but were also opposed to amerikkka's war on iraq. at one point the police tried to clear the street, but i kept my butt on the asphalt, smoking a cigarette. nice women didn't smoke cigarettes in public. i felt like a gender outlaw anyway, regardless of where i was. in egypt, it meant not conforming to how women were supposed to dress (whether for fashion or religion), wearing my hair curly, not lightening my caramel skin with fair & lovely, and challenging people to recognize and reconcile the fact that i was egyptian too. my body was marked african and egyptian and woman and diasporic.
i am a daughter of the egyptian middle class diaspora. my family immigrated to canada in the 60s and 70s. i had the privilege to be part of a "study abroad" program at an american university on egyptian land. i had the privilege to participate unharmed in the 2003 protest.
i am also christian, part of the coptic minority in egypt. our community has survived at the margins of empire for two thousand years. i believe violent acts against our community have been part of the mubarak regime's divide-and-conquer tactics. my church community's islamophobia only aggravates this problem, especially in diaspora.
so here we are in 2011, watching the egyptian people's revolution unfold. i must admit, i feel pretty numb at the moment. i've gone through a range of emotions from joy and elation to deep sorrow.
i feel sad about not being there for this exciting time. part of this is rooted in not feeling "egyptian enough," "connected enough," etc. most of my family has migrated to other places. the family i do still have there are doing well, but haven't been actively engaged in the protests. i recognize that there are many ways to serve the community (e.g. participating in neighborhood watches or cooking for protesters). my uncle and cousin did help secure their apartment building. but i'm mostly aware that my family had the privilege not to participate in the protests.
though the egyptian middle class has been visible in this revolution, the labor movement really tipped the scales of justice in favor of the people. labor organizers (known as the april 6 youth movement) started this revolution. the massive strikes organized by a variety of labor unions brought tons of people to the streets during mubarak's last days.
i feel joy at seeing muslims and christians united for a common purpose. i feel nervous about whether this unity will continue as everyone works to build a new egypt. i hope my church community will be allowed greater freedom to build churches and monasteries under the new constitution. that christians and muslims continue to protect each other during times of worship. i hope this will be the beginning of true interfaith dialogue and action.
seeing women actively engaged in the revolution reminds me that we've always been part of movement-building. i feel grateful to be part of a legacy of egyptian women's movements, and hope we will continue to have a voice, particularly in drafting new constitutional rights for women. for example, if i ever have children, i'd like to pass on egyptian citizenship to them. under the old constitution, my children wouldn't be able to claim citizenship through me, only through their dad.
my emotional range about this whole thing reminds me that when people power takes to the streets for political change, it changes things inside you too. finding collective voice is a powerful reminder to reach deep inside and find your own voice to add to the collective. decolonizing governments is a hell of a reminder to decolonize your own mind. the collective energy of prayer in this revolution has been a good reminder to pray. things i forget sometimes. my people humble me and teach me new lessons each day.
this revolution happening in egypt isn't the sexy-cause-of-the-month. it has real implications for christians, women, nubians, sudanese refugees, factory workers, rural farmers, queers, and everyone else. yes, even the despised police officers and thugs, who are real people whose choices have been shaped more by economic need than loyalty to mubarak. while i am excited that egyptians have found a unified collective voice, i am also poised, breathlessly waiting for what changes will come for those of us on the margins of egyptian society.
may the energy of this revolution continue and ripple out and free us all.