Where I work, in the Arab region, people are busy taking up Western innovations and changing them into things which are neither conventionally Western, nor are they traditionally Islamic.
The patriarchy is alive and well in Egypt and the wider Arab world. Just because we got rid of the father of the nation in Egypt or Tunisia, Mubarak or Ben Ali, and in a number of other countries, does not mean that the father of the family does not still hold sway.
Although I was raised in Canada and the U.K., my roots are in Egypt through my father, in a family line that stretches back generations and runs along the Nile, from the concrete of Cairo to the coast of Alexandria.
Part of my job at ‘The Economist’ was writing about HIV, and that included the grim task of reporting on the state of the global epidemic.
We were the outliers: my mother was the only Western woman (khawagayya, in Egyptian Arabic) to have married into the family, and during my childhood, we were the only members living outside of Egypt. So between my father’s prestige as the eldest son and my own exotic pedigree, I basked in the spotlight.
Civil society must be strengthened to help raise awareness among people living with HIV, and those at risk, of their rights, and to ensure they have access to legal services and redress through the courts.
Social change doesn’t happen in the Arab region through dramatic confrontation, beating, or indeed, baring of breasts, but rather through negotiation.
I’m Egyptian and Muslim, but I grew up in the West, far from my Arab roots. I began ‘Sex and the Citadel’ to help outsiders – like myself – to better comprehend this pivotal part of the world, up-close and personal.
I’m half Egyptian, and I’m Muslim. But I grew up in Canada, far from my Arab roots. Like so many who straddle East and West, I’ve been drawn, over the years, to try to better understand my origins.
Throughout its history, Islam has borrowed and adapted from other civilizations, both ancient and modern.
Growing up, I came to love Egypt and respect Islam, but I never thought to go beyond the surface. Back in Canada, many of my father’s Egyptian friends questioned his decision not to raise his only child more strictly in the faith. I was not taught salat, the Muslim ritual of prayer, nor did I study Arabic.
Now there are laws in many parts of the world which reflect the best of human nature. These laws treat people touched by HIV with compassion and acceptance. These laws respect universal human rights and they are grounded in evidence.
In Egypt, where my research is focused, I have seen plenty of trouble in and out of the citadel. There are legions of young men who can’t afford to get married, because marriage has become a very expensive proposition. They are expected to bear the burden of costs in married life, but they can’t find jobs.