Equality Not!

Recently, there had been a lot of discussion on Libyan blogs, and other pages, of a new Libyan law that bans women under 40 from traveling without mahrem. So, what’s new? What’s all this commotion about? This law is no surprise at all—not one little bit.

I have experienced gender discrimination first-hand in Libya, and in more than one occasion. Let me first set the stage before going into the story of discrimination so you see the ludicrousness of it all.

During my transition from Lebanon to the US back in 1998, I decided to go to Libya and spend some time with my family. I quit my job with Temenos SA as a senior project manager. Temenos, however, didn’t want to let go of me, and offered to hire me as a consultant and send me in short assignments as needed.

One of the assignments was in Greece. Everybody in Benghazi, and their mothers, knew about it. Why? How? Temenos and Informer applied for a visa on my behalf and sent details about my contract with them and the pay to the Greek Consulate in Benghazi. The peeps at the consulate found it amazing that a Swiss and a Greek companies were hiring a consultant—a woman—from Libya and paying her so much on top of covering all her expenses. It was unheard of!

Another assignment was in Egypt, and it was Temenos’ first attempt to introduce Globus there and gain a share in the Egyptian market. The Egyptians sang high and low of how proud they were to see a fellow Arab woman coming in with a European company.

In all the projects I was assigned to, I led meetings with the highest executives in the banks; I conducted demos and training sessions; I led implementation projects. I stayed at hotels in different countries, sometimes for extended periods of time. My professional status and my professionalism was all that mattered to the people around me. I was treated with respect at all times and by all I interacted with.

On my way out of Libya, a second-cousin of mine, Hamooda, drove me to Djerba from Tripoli. At the Libyan border, he instructed me to say that he was a taxi driver, if asked, and not a cousin. He said we could be held and delayed if they found he was my cousin—he was not a mahrem! Oh, I got it, a taxi driver is OK, but a cousin is not? Makes perfect sense!

Come November of 1998, and it was time for me to go back to Libya and head for the US shortly after. I was flying from Athens to Tunisia and then by road to Libya. It was the time of sanctions against Libya. As it happened, 3amo Lamin, a good and old family friend, was traveling on the same flight. It was a pleasant coincidence. I grew very close to amo Lamin and his family while I lived in Lebanon and they became a family to me. Once in Djerba, my ride, Hamooda, didn’t show up, so we took a taxi to Tripoli. We arrived there at the early hours of am, 2 or so. I was supposed to go to sister Fairouz’s but didn’t know the way. I was not familiar with Tripoli. We drove around in Gergaresh for a while, but I couldn’t recognize any landmarks that would lead us to Fairouz’s house, so we headed to a hotel.

At the hotel, the he-receptionist refused to check me in, insisting it was against the law to provide a room to a woman with no mahrem. Amo Lamin offered to give me his room once he was checked in, but the clerk announced that he would call the police if that happened. We got him to wake the manager up hoping he would be more helpful… We were wrong. The manager apologized profoundly and sincerely for there was nothing he could do. He offered me to sit in the lobby till 6am when the breakfast buffet opens, and offered breakfast on him. How generous! I sat there, and amo Lamin refused to go to his room and stayed with me. He couldn’t go and rest knowing that I can’t have that, he said.

I was so humiliated and belittled. In my home country, I was merely a prostitute or a sex-seeking creature until proven otherwise! Now you tell me, would anything surprise me coming from that rotten place called Libya?

Dear Um Dania, before you sing away how wonderful Libya is, how much freedom and respect Libyan women enjoy, and how blessed and privileged they are to live in Libya; please think about this story. Soad, my dear, care not what others think of you, especially the hateful ignorant ones; care what you think of yourself! To my other fellow Libyan females: Stand up for your rights and the rights of all of us Libyan women. Even if it's the right to call a jackass a jackass to his face. Demand that we be respected as complete human beings. Respect never stems from submission or cowardice.