Doria Shafik: A Staunch Egyptian Feminist Ahead of Her Time—Damnatio Memoriae

Abstract

Doria Shafik:A Staunch Egyptian Feminist Ahead of Her Time—Damnatio Memoriae Samia I. Spencer (bio) I was getting more and more conscious that Freedom is one entity—Freedom of Women being inseparable from Freedom of the Nation. I was convinced that there would be no free women in an occupied country and no occupied country with free women. Doria Shafik1 I decided to fight to the last drop of blood to break the chains shackling the women of my country in the invisible prison in which they continued to live, a prison, which being invisible, was all the more oppressive. Doria Shafik2 Today, if you ask educated and well-informed Egyptians who is Doria Shafik (1908-1975), no one is likely to know. If you ask the same question of Middle Eastern scholars or international feminists, the great majority will also have no idea. Yet in the middle of the twentieth century, Shafik was a household name in Egypt and beyond, not only as a dashing and controversial figure but, more importantly, as a renowned journalist, published poet and novelist, militant feminist, and political activist. Unlike [End Page 39] her distinguished mentor Huda Shaarawi (1879-1947)—the eminent grande dame of Egyptian and Arab feminism, and founder (1923) of the Egyptian Feminist Union (EFU)—whose name has made it into academic circles and textbooks, Shafik has gone from the pinnacle of celebrity to the oubliette of history.3 This article will focus on the consistency of Shafik's principles and action throughout her life, and her unparalleled determination and courage as she sought to achieve equality, freedom, justice, and political rights for Egyptian women. The Early Years (1908-1928) Doria was born at the dawn of the twentieth century, December 14, 1908, when harem life was nearing its end and slavery recently banned (1889) and totally abolished (1904), yet her grandmother still owned two slaves. The third of a brood of six, she grew up in a middle-class Muslim family, her childhood spent between two provincial towns in the Nile Delta: Mansoura, where her father, a civil engineer, worked for the railroad; and Tanta, with her grandmother, to attend Notre Dame des Apôtres, the same French school where her mother was educated. In this conservative environment, the precautious and perceptive child developed the unique aspects of her identity: aesthetics and feminism. A gentle and affectionate daughter, Doria was close to her mother with whom she shared an appreciation for beauty and the arts. Watching the Nile from her window, she bonded with the river, its eternal flow arousing in her a yearning for the absolute and enhancing her predisposition for poetry. Socially, she was surrounded by women: a score of female servants, including her French-speaking Syrian nanny, and numerous relatives, friends, and family members. The conversations they shared and the stories they told raised many questions in the mind of [End Page 40] the bright young girl: Why were boys always more privileged than girls? Why did women resort to witchcraft to have sons, not daughters? Why was she not allowed to go to mosque, but her brothers could? Why did husbands take second wives? Reflecting on her observation of the prejudice, humiliation, and injustice experienced by women, especially within the institution of marriage, she hoped to evade that fate. Early on, the seeds of feminism were rooted in her mind and continued to grow as various events and encounters magnified it. Shortly after the traumatic experience of losing her mother at age thirteen, the teenager went to live with her broadminded and understanding father, whose job had taken him to the port city of Alexandria, Egypt's commercial and financial capital, its most modern and most cosmopolitan center.4 Discovering a different world and starting a distinct chapter of her life, Doria relished a newfound freedom in a vibrant multicultural urban setting. Moving to another French school, Saint Vincent de Paul, she focused on her studies, passing the Brevet national exam—equivalent to ninth grade in the United States—with highest honor. Beyond that level, no secondary education was available for girls.5 Undeterred, Doria and a friend decided to study on...