COMMENTARIES ON ISLAM

Women

1 – Islamic Scholars Claim:

• Shari’a laws concerning women are the rule of law in Islamic families;
• Islam was the first civilization to provide and guarantee women’s rights;
• Mohammed gave the world the perfect example of how women are protected in Islam;
• Muslim women are treasured and as treasures must be protected from the evils of the kafir world;
• The rights of Muslim women come from Allah.

2 – Islamic Law/Shari’a Says:

• Shari’a law has different laws for different groups of people;
• Women are one of its special classes;

Wife Beating

Islam’s grand vision about women is given in one verse of the Qur’an:

Qur’an2 4:34 “Allah has made men superior to women because men spend their wealth to support them.  Therefore, virtuous women are obedient, and they are to guard their unseen parts as Allah has guarded them.  As for women whom you fear will rebel, admonish them first, and then send them to a separate bed, and then beat them.  But if they are obedient after that, then do nothing further; surely Allah is exalted and great!”

The Shari’a: Dealing With A Rebellious Wife

m10.12 “When a husband notices signs of rebelliousness in his wife whether in words as when she answers him coldly when she used to do so politely, or he asks her to come to bed and she refuses, contrary to her usual habit; or whether in acts, as when he finds her averse to him when she was previously kind and cheerful, he warns her in words without keeping from her or hitting her, for it may be that she has an excuse.  The warning could be to tell her, “Fear Allah concerning the rights you owe to me,”  or it could be to explain that rebelliousness nullifies his obligation to support her and give her a turn amongst other wives, or it could be to inform her, “Your obeying me is religiously obligatory.”  If she commits rebelliousness, he keeps from sleeping (having sex) with her and refuses to speak to her, and may hit her, but not in a way that injures her, meaning he may not bruise her, break bones, wound her, or cause blood to flow.  It is unlawful to strike another’s face.  He may hit her whether she is rebellious only once or whether more than once, though a weaker opinion holds that he may not hit her unless there is repeated rebelliousness.  He [Mohammed] also told them men had rights over their wives and women had rights over their husbands.  The wives were never to commit adultery or act in a sexual manner toward others.  If they did, they were to be put in separate rooms and beaten lightly.  If they refrained from what was forbidden, they had the right to food and clothing.  Men were to lay injunctions on women lightly for they were prisoners of men and had no control over their persons.  [Abu Dawud 11, 2142] Mohammed said: A man will not be asked as to why he beat his wife.  [Bukhari 7,62,132] The Prophet said, “None of you should flog his wife as he flogs a slave and then have sexual intercourse with her in the last part of the day.” Most of those in Hell will be women.

The Doctrine Of Women

There are many ways in which the woman does not have full stature in Shari’a law: 

• 022.1 The necessary qualifications for being an Islamic judge are: (a) to be a male freeman […]
• 04.9 The indemnity for the death or injury of a woman is one-half the indemnity paid for a man.  [Bukhari 3,48,826] Mohammed asked, “Is not the value of a woman’s eye-witness testimony half that of a man’s?”  A woman said, ”Yes.”  He said, “That is because a woman’s mind is deficient.”
• L10.3 They divide the universal share so that the male receives the portion of two females.

Qur’an 4:11 It is in this manner that Allah commands you concerning your children: A male should receive a share equal to that of two females, […]  This hadith equates camels, slaves and women.  [Abu Dawud 11, 2155] Mohammed said: If one of you marries a woman or buys a slave, he should say: “O Allah, I ask You for the good in her, and in the disposition You have given her; I take refuge in You from the evil in her, and in the disposition You have given her.”  When he buys a camel, he should take hold of the top of its hump and say the same kind of thing.  Women are inferior to men in intelligence and religion. [Bukhari 1,6,301] While on his way to pray, Mohammed passed a group of women and he said, “Ladies, give to charities and donate money to the unfortunate, because I have witnessed that most of the people in Hell are women.  They asked, “Why is that?”

Women And Islam

To consider the place of women in Islamic tradition, this entry comprises two articles. The first article examines the role and status of women in Islamic law and summarizing twentieth‐century legal developments that have specifically affected women. The second article provides an overview of women’s religious activities in contemporary Muslim societies. For related discussions, see Womenand Social Reform.

Role And Status Of Women

The Qur’ān, Islam’s holy book, and the sunnah (traditions of the Prophet) considerably improved women’s status by comparison to the pre‐Islamic (Jāhilīyah) period. Before Islam, men treated women as their property, to be married or divorced at their pleasure. Women were subjected to polygynous practices and female children to infanticide. Women generally had no voice in the selection of spouses and, once married, lacked financial security, as the dower (mahr) was paid directly to their male guardians. However, apparently some pre‐Islamic women practiced polyandry and also selected and divorced their own husbands. As a rule, these women were neither veiled nor secluded; some were poets and others even fought in wars alongside men.

Role And Status In The Qur’ān And Sunnah

Islamic holy law (sharī῾ah) addressed some of the more flagrant gender inequities of the pre‐Islamic period. For instance, Islamic regulation proscribed female infanticide; abolished women’s status as chattel; emphasized the contractual, rather than the proprietary, nature of marriage; mandated that the wife, not her father, directly receive the dower; enjoined that a woman retain control and use of her property and maiden name after marriage; guaranteed her financial maintenance by her husband; accorded her the right to privacy; prohibited her husband from spying on or entrapping her; and prevented a woman’s eviction from the house after divorce by requiring the husband to maintain his ex‐wife for three menstrual cycles (until childbirth if she were pregnant).

To develop a clearer picture of the status and role of women in the Qur’ān and sunnah, one should distinguish between Islam as religion and Islam as culture. Islam as religion refers to regulations pertaining to piety, ethics, and belief. These spiritual aspects of Islam are considered duties of worship (῾ibādāt) and hence called “roots” or “foundations” (uṣūl) of the faith, for instance, Allāh’s uniqueness, the final prophecy of Muḥammad, prayer, almsgiving, fasting, and the pilgrimage to Mecca. On this religious level, men and women are moral equals in the sight of God. Evidence for this is found in numerous Qur’ānic verses (2.187, 3.195, 4.1, 4.32, 9.71–72, 24.12, 30.21, 33.35–36, 40.40, 48.5, 57.12), which render the only distinction between women and men to be their piety, not their sex.

Islam as culture refers to the ideas and practices of Muslims in the context of changing social, economic, and political circumstances. People not only worship God but also interact in social relationships (called mu῾ā‐malāt, or “transactions”). They make contracts, trade, fight, arbitrate disputes, collect taxes, and so on. Collectively, these constitute the furū῾ (the branches, or “superstructure”).

On this cultural level, women have not been treated as men’s equals. Such inequality has evolved largely as an artifact of the preferences and actions of patriarchal authorities (termed scripturalistshere) after the Prophet’s death, including certain rulers and administrators, most jurists, and some intellectuals. They justify this system of inequality by reference to certain verses of the Qur’ān and traditions of the Prophet. However, modernists, including a number of nineteenth‐ and twentieth‐century political leaders, government bureaucrats, intellectuals, leaders of women’s movements, and a minority of ῾ulamā‘ (religious scholars), believe that many of these verses and traditions do not support such categorical claims.

Thus, the comprehensive veiling and seclusion of women would appear to have no warrant in the Qur’ān and the sunnah. However, Qur’ānic verses do assign women’s testimony half the value of men’s; permit men to unilaterally divorce their wives; deny women custody rights over their children after they reach a certain age; (see mingly) permit polygyny; and favor men over women respecting inheritance. But modernists hold that stipulations in the Qur’ān itself and existing legal principles adduced by jurists may be invoked to maintain that, since the social, cultural, and economic context of those verses has changed, the sanction for gender inequality is no longer legitimate.

Modernists support their argument by reference to holy law itself. First, in surah 3.7 the Qur’ān specifically distinguishes between two kinds of verse: (1) those that are unambiguous (muḥkamāt), and (2) those that are subject to interpretation (mutashābihāt). Hence, anti‐scripturalists may claim that verses appearing to confer superiority upon men over women (for example, surahs 2.223 and 2.228) ought not be taken literally but, rather, allegorically. Second, the Qur’ān not only conditions polygyny on the requirement of equitable treatment for all wives (4.3), but explicitly asserts such treatment to be impossible (4.129). Third, Allāh says that He will not change a people’s condition until they change what is in themselves (13.11). According to modernists, this verse calls upon Muslims to use their intrinsic endowment of reason to maximize their welfare. Fourth, a sound tradition ascribed to the Prophet maintains that “as for matters of your world, you know better.” Modernists interpret this to mean that Muslims should use reason—repeatedly upheld in the Qur’ān as a meritorious human attribute—in pursuit of their welfare. Thus, it would be offensive to human reason to accept gender inequality when Allāh Himself enjoins spiritual equality of all Muslims. Finally, over the centuries reform‐minded jurists have employed a number of legal devices that vindicate the use of reason in pursuing the welfare of Muslims, including: (1) public interest (maṣlaḥah mursalah); (2) the common expression, “necessities make permissible what are forbidden” (al‐ḋarūrāt tubīḥu al‐maḥẓūrāt); and (3) the application of discretion (istiḥsān) in reaching a ruling.

Scripturalists claim that the Qur’ān and sunnah mandate veiling and seclusion. However, modernists believe such arguments are tendentious. Of the seven Qur’ānic verses using the word “veil” (ḥijāb), six were revealed at Mecca (surahs 7.46, 17.45, 19.17, 38.32, 41.5, 42.51), and none of them refer to veiling Muslim women. The seventh verse (33.53), revealed at Medina, refers to the need for the Prophet’s wives to be behind a ḥijāb when his male guests converse with them. Modernists hold that the verse does not pertain to Muslim women in general, while scripturalists, implicitly accepting this, argue that what applies to the Prophet’s wives, examplars of chastity, inheres all the more for Muslim women, since they are less chaste.

But modernists declare that the verse lacks the quality of obligation (farḋ al‐῾ayn or farḋ al‐kifāyah), since there is no textual stipulation (naṣṣ) which makes it obligatory (wājib). Indeed, al‐Jāḥiẓ writes that women, with the knowledge of their kin, socialized freely and unveiled with men at the time of the early Islamic community. Furthermore, al‐Wāḥidī, in his Asbāb al‐nuzūl, and others maintain that the reference in surah 24.31 to scarves that should cover both head and bosom (khumur; in contrast to the full‐length ḥijāb) was based on the need to differentiate among free women and slaves. The story is told of the caliph, ῾Umar ibn al‐Khaṭṭāb, who slapped a female slave for wearing such a scarf. In the modernist view, if scarves were used to distinguish free women from slaves, then the abolition of slavery in the modern period has eliminated this reason for (partially) covering oneself.

Jurists differ as to the requirement of veiling and seclusion contained in the sunnah. References to veiling in the earlier, hence sounder, ḥadīths are vague and general; whereas the later, hence less reliable, ḥadīths are much more detailed. Historical evidence seems to indicate that veiling and seclusion were introduced after the Islamic conquests of Iran and Byzantium. As Muslims increasingly became urbanized, men veiled and secluded their women as a status marker of the family’s wealth. Thus, in the modernist view, veiling had nothing to do with the requirements of the faith. [See also Ḥijāb.]

|To modernists, the Qur’ān does not support or assert notions of inherent female inferiority, nor can women be judged less rational, more emotional, or less competent than men on the basis of holy law. Certain ḥadīths are sometimes cited to the effect that the Prophet regarded women as incapable of leadership. However, modernist scholars doubt the veracity of a number of these traditions and believe that they were invented by later generations to justify restrictions on the activities of women. It is clear from many sunnah that the Prophet consulted women and weighed their opinions seriously. According to Ibn Ḥanbal, founder of one of the four Sunnī schools of law, at least one woman, Umm Waraqah, was appointed as the imam of her household by the Prophet. Historical and other evidence indicates that women contributed significantly to the redaction of the Qur’ān and were entrusted with vital secrets affecting the Muslim community: women were first to learn of the revelation, they were told the location of the Prophet’s hiding place prior to his escape to Medina, and they were vouchsafed with the Prophet’s secret plans to attack Mecca. Upon the Prophet’s death, the distinguished women of the community were consulted as to who should succeed him.

In spite of the claims of later traditions, then, modernists say that historical and canonical records demonstrate women’s important and respected role in Muslim life, as reflected in the story of an older woman who corrected the authoritative ruling (fatwā) of Caliph ῾Umar ibn al‐Khaṭṭāb on the dower (mahr). They cite the fact that women prayed in mosques unsegregated from men, and were involved in the transmittal of ḥadīths (Ibn Sa῾d, the famous early biographer, records seven hundred cases of women who performed this important function). Women were known to give sanctuary (jiwār) to men. As an indication of their involvement in public matters, they owned and disposed of property and engaged in commercial transactions. Like men, they were encouraged to seek knowledge, which, indeed, they pursued in the Prophet’s own home, and women were both instructors and pupils in the early Islamic period. The Prophet’s favorite wife, ῾Ā’ishah, was a well‐known authority in medicine, history, and rhetoric.

As to politics, the Qur’ān refers to women who, independently of their male kin, pledged the oath of allegiance (bay῾ah) to the Prophet (surah 60.12). Additional examples of women making such pledges to the Prophet occurred at al‐῾Aqabah, al‐Riḋwān, and al‐Shajarah. In a number of cases, distinguished women converted to Islam before their men did, again belying the traditional patriarchal view that women were incapable of independent action. As for public posts, Caliph ῾Umar appointed women to serve as officials (muḥtasibs) in the market of Medina, and Ḥanbalī jurisprudence upholds the qualifications of women to serve as judges.

In addition to all the foregoing, biographies of distinguished women, especially in the Prophet’s household, show that women behaved autonomously in early Islam. These are the very women whom contemporary scripturalists invoke as models to justify women’s seclusion and confinement today. The women about whom most data are available are Khadījah, the Prophet’s first wife; ῾Ā’ishah, his favorite wife; Fāṭimah, his youngest daughter; Zaynab, his granddaughter; Sukaynah, his great‐granddaughter; and ῾A’ishah bint Ṭalḥah, the niece of her namesake. These women—artists, poets, cultural patrons, soldiers—challenged the wisdom of men, insisted upon marital equality with their husbands, and took initiatives sometimes directly counter to patriarchal authority. Contemporary exhortations to restrict the activities of women in public arenas by reference to the examples of these women, therefore, are invalidated by the reality of their lives. Hi

Role And Status In Various Muslim Lands

The seclusion and confinement of women in urban settings prevailed without significant change until the early twentieth century, but numerous attempts to modify personal status law have been made since then. These include the Ottoman Empire (1917), Algeria (1984), Egypt (1920, 1929, 1979, and 1985), India (1937, 1939, and 1976), Iran (1967, 1975, and 1979), Iraq (1959, 1963, and 1986), Jordan (1951 and 1976), Kuwait (1982), Morocco (1958), Pakistan (1961), South Yemen (1974), Sudan (1915, 1927, 1932, 1933, 1935, 1960, and 1969), Syria (1953 and 1975), Tunisia (1956, 1957, 1964, 1966, and 1981), and Turkey (1924).

Prior to the early twentieth century, the state left control over women and the family in the hands of patriarchal kinship groups. In contrast to its highly interventionist behavior in Islamic civil, commercial, and penal law, the state declined the very risky enterprise of tampering with personal status regulations, the very core of Muslim (masculine) identity. The patriarchal control of women’s behavior and the family unit were central to the construction of this identity. Ultimately, however, the state’s reluctance began to give way, not least because of the pressure brought to bear by women’s groups under the leadership of prominent women in countries such as Egypt and throughout the Ottoman Empire.

In the past, inquiries into the role of women and the family often overemphasized the content of sacred texts, assuming these texts were the driving force behind people’s behavior. In reaction to this “essentialist” approach, some scholars have stressed the relevance of conditions in “civil society” (for example, class differences) for understanding women’s subordinate status. More recently, it has been suggested that neither the “sacred texts” nor the “civil society” approach are in themselves sufficient to explain the content of personal status legislation at any given time because they ignore the state’s autonomy in pursuing its own agenda in this area.

For instance, the state has broadened its base of support by enfranchising women, in the process weaning them away from the kinship groups that traditionally have controlled them and redirecting their terminal loyalties to itself. Iran and Turkey at various times in this century exemplify this pattern. However, in doing this the state risks the growing disenchantment of the scripturalists, who generally view such developments to be “anti‐Islamic.” Thus, the state may attempt to conciliate such groups by enforcing modesty codes or curtailing women’s public presence. Post‐1979 Pakistan and Iran, and Egypt after 1985, provide relevant examples of such conduct.In balancing the conflicting demands of women and traditionalists, the state has generally followed a cautious policy of reform. Such reforms have made polygynous marriages more difficult or abolished them outright (notably in Turkey, Tunisia, and Syria); permitted wives to sue for divorce by having recourse to religious courts (shar῾), especially in cases of cruelty, desertion, or dangerous contagious disease; provided women with the right to contract themselves in marriage; required husbands to find housing for a divorced wife during her custody over children; increased the minimum marital age of spouses; limited the ability of guardians to contract women in marriage against their wishes; provided opportunities for minor girls wed against their wishes to abrogate their marriage upon reaching majority; enhanced the rights of women in regard to child custody; and allowed women to write clauses into marriage contracts limiting their husbands’ authority over them, for example, by his ex ante grant to his wife of the right to divorce him.

The following case study from Egypt captures the dilemma the modern state faces when intervening in this arena. The 1971 Egyptian constitution holds in Article 11 that the state “shall guarantee” a balance between women’s “Islamic” duties and their right to employment and participation in public life. This language, attempting to reconcile women’s “Islamic” obligations and their rights in the secular domain, was fraught with ambiguity because it left unclear how this reconciliation was to be achieved. In 1979, amendments were made to the 1929 personal status law that aligned the state to a modest attenuation of scripturalist positions by: (1) holding that polygyny automatically caused “harm” (ḋarar) to the first wife and thus ipso facto constituted grounds for divorce; (2) abolishing the forcible return of fleeing wives to the conjugal home (bayt al‐ṭā῾ah); and (3) granting a divorced wife with custody of minor children exclusive right to the couple’s conjugal residence during the custody period.

Found unconstitutional on procedural grounds in 1985, the bill was quickly reintroduced and passed by parliament, but its provisions were now less liberal. It required the wife to demonstrate harm caused by her husband taking another wife, and granted the husband exclusive right to his residence (although he would still have to find housing for his divorced wife during the custody period).

Conclusion

The Qur’ān and sunnah markedly improved women’s role and status relative to the pre‐Islamic period by emphasizing the spiritual equality of women and men. Although certain social and economic regulations in the scripture seemingly favor men, the conditions prevailing at the time of the revelation, which seemed to justify such inequality, have lapsed. The Qur’ān, sunnah, and certain legal principles adduced by jurists provide mechanisms for reinterpreting, through the application of reason, those texts that putatively establish a categorical hierarchy favoring men over women. Twentieth‐century reforms in personal status law, achieved through recourse to such instruments and arguments, have gradually moved in the direction of gender equality, but a certain degree of backsliding has occurred as a consequence of the rise of militant scripturalism—that is, scripturalism based on unyielding, even violent, confrontation with the state and modernist groups. It is not clear what the future will hold, but it is likely that the conflict between reformist and scripturalist outlooks on the role and status of women will continue.

Women’s Religious Observances

Although women and men are assigned the same religious duties and promised the same spiritual rewards in the Qur’ān, social conventions, illiteracy, and Islamic requirements of ritual purity have all tended to restrict women’s access to many aspects of Islamic religious life. These restrictions are not uniform across the Muslim world, and neither are women’s responses to them. Regional variations in women’s religious lives have not been sufficiently documented to make it possible to provide a truly balanced description of women’s religious observances. Furthermore, social changes in this century have radically altered the situation of women in society, opening new opportunities for women in the religious domain as well.

Women and Basic Islamic Obligations

Although women are expected to perform the five daily prayers and the Ramaḋān fast, they may not pray, fast, or touch (or even, according to some interpretations, recite) the Qur’ān during menstruation or postpartum bleeding. According to ḥadīth, the exemption during menstruation denotes women’s religious deficiency (just as the devaluation of their legal testimony, worth only half that of a man, denotes their mental deficiency). Women are rendered much more susceptible to ritual impurity than men, not only by menstruation and childbirth but also through their contact with young children, who may soil them. Although not required to fast while pregnant or nursing a baby, many women do observe the fast during these times, either totally or partially. Days of fasting that are missed because of these exemptions must be made up for later. Congregational prayer is said to be twenty‐seven times more meritorious than prayer performed alone, and ḥadīths from the Prophet enjoin men not to forbid women from praying in the mosque. Still, other ḥadīths encourage women to pray in their homes. In the Prophet’s own day women performed the dawn prayer in rows behind the men, and, according to ḥadīth, left the mosque before the men. Thus, theoretically, all contact between the sexes was avoided. During the caliphate of ῾Umar ibn al‐Khaṭṭāb (634–644), women prayed in a separate room of the mosque with their own imam. Previously women had gathered for social purposes in the mosque as well, but ῾Umar forbade this activity and, according to al‐Ghazālī (d. 1111), women were banned from the mosque altogether in the generation after the Prophet. Al‐Ghazālī justified this reversal of the Prophet’s edict by claiming that widespread moral deterioration made public spaces unsafe for any but elderly women, encouraging women not to leave their homes for any reason (Marriage and Sexuality in Islam, translated by Madelain Farah, Salt Lake City, 1984, pp. 100–101).

Ethnographic studies from a number of different Islamic countries indicate that women are commonly regarded as the initiators of illicit sexual relationships, and their presence in public is considered a source of temptation and social discord. The exclusion of women is thus considered necessary to preserve the holiness and dignity of religious ceremonies. For instance, the Friday noon prayer in the mosque is mandatory for men, but not for women, and according to Edward Lane (The Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, London, 1836, p. 64), no women or young boys were allowed to be present in the mosque at any time of prayer. Although many mosques have segregated spaces for women, whether curtained areas, separate rooms, or balconies, until recently mosques have been considered male spaces to which a proper woman would not go. However, the Islamic resurgence that has swept the Muslim world since the 1970s, enlisting the active involvement of women, has helped change such attitudes. Most recently constructed mosques provide considerably more space for women than earlier ones. However, the actual spatial arrangement of the architecture reinforces women’s marginality to life in the mosque, often isolating them in areas where they cannot see or hear the imam or preacher.

In the pilgrimage to Mecca, on the other hand, the sexes are not segregated, and Islamic law stipulates that women not veil their faces during the pilgrimage. This integration of the sexes also occurs during festivities at saints’ shrines, indicating that at the loci of most intense holiness and access to God, one is in a liminal state where gender barriers collapse.

Religious Education for Women

Women have always played a role in the transmission of religious knowledge. The role of ῾Ā’ishah, Muḥammad’s youngest wife, as a transmitter of ḥadīth was so important that Muḥammad is said to have told the Muslims they would receive half their religion from a woman. Muḥammad himself provided religious lessons for women, although later Muslims often complained that education would be used by women for unholy ends. Literacy was a rare achievement for women in later medieval Muslim society. Throughout Islamic history, some daughters of wealthy families have been favored with a private education in the home. More often, women were excluded from formal education, although women might serve as patrons or even supervisors of educational institutions. The Ḥanbalī jurist Ibn Taymīyah of Syria (d. 1328) lists two women among his teachers, and some female descendants of the Prophet, such as his granddaughter Zaynab and his great‐great‐great‐great‐granddaughter Nafīsah, are recognized as women of learning and wisdom, as well as piety. Although schools for girls in subjects such as midwifery, crafts, and housekeeping skills opened in the nineteenth century in many countries, and since independence secular education has been made available to girls as well as to boys throughout most of the Islamic world, religious education has lagged behind. Occasionally, women have become recognized as distinguished religious scholars through their writings alone, without attending institutions of higher Islamic education. ῾Ā’ishah ῾Abd al‐Raḥmān, the Egyptian Qur’ān exegete, and Khānum‐i Amīn, the Iranian mujtahid, are examples. As part of Egyptian president Nasser’s revamping of the Islamic University of al‐Azhar, a College for Girls was opened in 1962, and graduates in the field of religion have been employed as teachers in religion classes in public schools. Al‐Azhar began a limited program to train women as preachers in 1988. Women are not generally deemed fit to teach men, so it is assumed that these women are being trained only to serve women’s religious needs. In Iran, religious schools in the holy city of Qom were opened to girls in 1976. However, private education and apprenticeship has produced innumerable women who serve as Qur’ān reciters in both Sunnī and Shī῾ī communities, and as leaders of women’s gatherings to commemorate the martyrdom of the imams among the Shī῾ah. [See also Education, article on Religious Education; and the biography of ῾Abd al‐Raḥmān.]

Ṣūfī Orders

Mysticism is by definition a sphere that depends more on individual reputation for holiness and receptivity to spiritual impulses than on literacy and institutional certification. It is therefore not surprising to find that Sufism has been more open to women than the more legalistic and scholastic dimensions of Islamic religious life. The most famous Ṣūfī woman is Rābi῾ah al‐῾Adawīyah (d. 801), credited with introducing the concept of selfless love into Sufism. Her poems of love for God have inspired mystics to the present day, and Ṣūfī tradition depicts her outwitting her male colleagues. She is listed alongside the men in Farīd al‐Dīn ῾Aṭṭār’s (d. 1220) Ṣūfī biographical dictionary, because “when a woman becomes a ‘man’ in the path of God, she is a man and one cannot any more call her a woman” (Muslim Saints and Mystics, translated by A. J. Arberry, Oxford, 1966, p. 40). Rābi῾ah is not unique in Ṣūfī tradition. Javād Nūrbakhsh has translated into English the brief biographies of some 124 Ṣūfī women (Sufi Women, New York, 1983), including Fāṭimah of Nisapur (d. 838), who was described by Dhū al‐Nūn al‐Miṣrī as the highest among the Ṣūfīs of his age. The great mystic Ibn ῾Arabī (d. 1240) lists two women among his teachers (Sufis of Andalusia, translated by R. W. J. Austin, London, 1971), and claimed that the most perfect contemplation of God for a man is in woman.

In spite of its greater hospitality to female participants, Ṣūfī tradition is not uniform in its praise of women. Al‐Ghazālī (d. 1111) scarcely speaks of women in the mystical path except as assets or obstacles to the spiritual life of men. Although Muslim tradition recommends marriage, in imitation of the example of the Prophet, the Ṣūfī al‐Hujwīrī (d. about 1071) held celibacy to be the ideal, declaring that all the evils in the world had been caused by women (The Kashf al‐Maḥjūb, translated by R. A. Nicholson, 2d ed., London, 1976, p. 364).Celibacy and rigorous fasting were practiced by many early Ṣūfīs. In addition to aiding in the training of the soul and spiritual concentration, these may have been tools for women to avoid ritual impurity—refusing intercourse and childbirth through celibacy, preventing menstruation by fasting—and thereby guarantee uninterrupted access to God (Jamal Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islamic Mysticism,” Muslim World 78 [1988]: 210–211).

Ṣūfī shaykhs were the most effective religious teachers in Muslim society and often served as popular counselors and healers, so it is not surprising that they touched the feminine world more than the mosque‐centered sphere of religious scholars. Some Ṣūfī shaykhs in the Mamlūk and Ottoman periods admitted women into their orders, although their participation in the orders and in dhikr, the distinctive Ṣūfī ritual of chanting the names of God with special breath control and movement, was controversial. Women sometimes founded Ṣūfī retreat houses for men as a pious act. Annemarie Schimmel documents an Anatolian woman of the late fourteenth century who was head of a Ṣūfī retreat center with male disciples (“Women in Mystical Islam,” Women’s Studies International Forum 5 [1982]: 148). A Ṣūfī retreat house for women was established in Cairo in Mamlūk times in honor of a prominent woman Ṣūfī, Zaynab Fāṭimah bint ῾Abbās (late thirteenth—early fourteenth century), and according to Ibn Ḥajar al‐῾Asqalānī, there were women shaykhhs and scholars of the Law, most of them divorcees, who lived in extreme abstinence and worship in Ṣūfī hospices. In contrast to early Sufism, it seems that in the later medieval period only women who had already completed their duty of marriage were free to devote themselves to the mystical life.

Moroccan and Algerian orders frequently have women’s auxiliaries with female leadership, and in many countries women’s organizations with female leadership complement those of men. In contemporary Egypt, however, concerns with propriety in the face of reformist criticisms of Sufism have led to the official banning of female membership by the Supreme Council of Ṣūfī Orders, a government‐sponsored body. Women nonetheless continue to participate in all aspects of life in many Egyptian Ṣūfī orders. Some women become recognized as “spiritual mothers” to both men and women, or as heirs of the “spiritual secrets” of their fathers who were shaykhs. In this latter case, the official position of shaykh is inherited by the deceased’s eldest son, although actual spiritual leadership may be exercised by the daughter. In some Egyptian orders, women participate in dhikr on a par with men, but in many orders, and in society at large, it is considered improper for a woman to expose herself by rising to join a dhikr. Women who do so often shroud their faces, but more often women participate silently, sitting among the observers. When women do participate in dhikr, they are rarely as vocal as men, and use smaller, more contained movements. This is in marked contrast to Shī῾ī commemorative assemblies in Iran, in which the women are said to be more emotionally expressive than the men (Anne H. Betteridge, “The Controversial Vows of Urban Muslim Women in Iran,” in Unspoken Worlds, San Francisco, 1980, pp. 141–155). Women seem to be caught between competing social norms which say, on the one hand, that they are more emotional than men and, on the other hand, dictate that they suppress all public displays of emotion.

In Egypt, and probably in other places as well, some Ṣūfīs believe that once they have entered into the spirit, they may transcend the barriers of the flesh; “male” and “female” become meaningless categories. Ṣūfīs in such a state may exercise freedom in interpersonal relations between the sexes, a sanction considered shocking to the society at large. Ṣūfīs are sometimes criticized as immoral for the way in which men and women mingle at their ceremonies, and women sometimes avoid saints’ day celebrations because of the dangers presented to their modesty by the dense crowds.

Saints And Spirits

Whereas ordinary mosques are usually regarded as male spaces, saints’ shrines are traditionally open to women. Saints are men and women who are popularly recognized as walīs (“friends of God”). They are believed to be able to intercede with God on behalf of the faithful, and miracles occur at their hands. After their deaths, their tombs or alleged tombs become shrines and places of refuge for their devotees and other troubled individuals. Because they are, in some sense, champions of the downtrodden, and because the rituals surrounding their cult require no education, women are frequent visitors to their shrines, where they feel themselves able to plead with the saints on a par with men. Fatima Mernissi wrote that saints’ shrines in Morocco are more like a social space for women than a religious space where prayers are made, and that male visitors may feel like intruders (“Women, Saints, and Sanctuaries,” Signs: Journal of Women in Society and Culture 3 [1977]: 101–112). This is not the case in Egypt, where shrines are definitely sacred space in which it is considered appropriate to pray, and where women are seldom in the majority. Womenare indeed very much in evidence (even in the small towns of Upper (southern) Egypt, where women are kept veiled and secluded, they might feel free to sit in the vicinity of the tomb, nursing their babies), but in some shrines special rooms are designated for women to prevent them from sitting by the tomb. The country’s most important shrine of all, that of the Prophet’s grandson Ḥusayn, does not allow women to enter after sunset.

Some shrines cater specifically to women’s needs, such as fertility. In India, some Muslim saints’ shrines are designated as women’s shrines, while others are for men. In Iran and Iraq, Shī῾ī women visiting the tombs of the martyred imams acquire a prestige similar11111111 to those performing the pilgrimage. The great saints’ day festivals (mawlids) that commemorate particular saints, usually on the anniversary of their death, form the major focus of Ṣūfī devotion in Egypt, as Ṣūfīs travel from one such festival to another, setting up hospitality stations and performing dhikr. During the mawlidof Sayyid Aḥmad al‐Badawī in Tanta, in the Egyptian Delta, the entire floor of the vast mosque associated with his shrine is transformed into a campground inhabited by a dense crowd of men, women, and children, without any segregation of the sexes. The activities at saints’ shrines are a popular target of reformist criticism, and frequently the presence of women is deemed inappropriate, both for considerations of modesty and because the Prophet allegedly prohibited women from visiting tombs. The practice of saint shrine veneration has its defenders, however, who rely on the same type of scriptural sources used by its critics. Regardless of this criticism, the visitation of saints’ shrines has formed an essential component of the religious lives of women all over the Muslim world. [See also Shrines; Mawlid.]

Women in many countries participate in spirit possession cults such as the zār of North and East Africa and the bori of West Africa. These cults are based on the assumption that both physical and emotional illness may be caused by spirits, whose anger must be appeased through the hosting of a feast and the performance of dances peculiar to the spirit in question. They often have both male and female functionaries, and the power and wealth of the “priestesses” may be considerable. While the cults are non‐Islamic in origin, the scripturally endorsed belief in spirits and their effects on humans make Islam a hospitable environment for the introduction and spread of such cults. Public zārs in Egypt utilize male musical troupes singing praises to the Prophet in Ṣūfī style, and some of the spirits are those of great Muslim saints. Women zār musicians use a more African beat. Public criticism of the zār cult in Egypt has been vociferous enough that even illiterate women are aware of it.

Twentieth‐Century Developments

Religious reformers of all types have criticized the saint cult as idolatrous and the spirit cults as un‐Islamic. The hue of illegitimacy has been cast over the very aspects of Islamic religious life that have traditionally been most open to women. In his book, The Emancipation of Women (1899), the Egyptian judge Qāsim Amīn (d. 1908) urged that women be educated in order to dispel the myths and superstitions they supposedly perpetuate among the young, and the Syrian‐born writer Rashīd Riḋā (d. 1935) urged in his journal, Al‐manār, that women be integrated into orthodox religious life, as they were in the days of the Prophet. Throughout the twentieth century, independently founded Islamic voluntary associations have assumed the task of providing religious education for women, in addition to offering courses in literacy and crafts. The Muslim Brotherhood, founded in 1928 by Ḥasan al‐Bannā’ in Egypt, had a women’s auxiliary, the Muslim Sisters, which never succeeded on the level of its male counterpart. Zaynab al‐Ghazālī founded the Muslim Women’s Association in 1936 as an Islamic response to the Egyptian Feminist Union. [See the biography of Ghazālī.] Today there are approximately fourteen thousand Islamic voluntary associations in Egypt, and many of them offer religious classes for women. In addition, many government‐operated mosques offer religious lessons to women. In many cases, the teachers are themselves women, although male instructors continue to predominate.

The university‐centered Islamist movement that has swept the Muslim world since the 1970s has garnered the support of many women as participants and propagandists. Women in the movement wear Islamic dress, a loose‐fitting garment that covers the entire body except the face and hands. Although Islamic dress was an anomaly when it appeared in the early 1970s, by 1980 it became the uniform of the aggressively religious woman. The women who wear this dress are usually well educated, often in the most prestigious university faculties of medicine, engineering, and the sciences, and their dress signifies that although they pursue an education and career in the public sphere, they are religious, moral women. Whereas other women are frequently harassed in public places, such women are honored and even feared. By the late 1980s, Islamic dress had become the norm for middle‐class women who do not want to compromise their reputation by their public activities. Boutiques offer Parisian‐style fashions adapted to Islamic modesty standards, thereby subverting somewhat the original intent of the movement. [See Dress.]

Despite the high visibility of female participation in the Islamist movement throughout the Muslim world, it espouses a conservative ideology regarding women’s social roles, idealizing their importance as mothers and stressing allegedly innate gender differences that make work outside the home unsuitable for women. This rhetoric, both incorporatist and exclusionary, may appeal to women who are doubly burdened when they take on jobs outside the home, perhaps out of economic necessity, and feel degraded by their “public” conditions. The Islamic movement also encourages women to struggle on behalf of Islam as their counterparts did in early Islam. The contradictory rhetoric of the Islamic movement has been particularly effective in Iran, where women have been incorporated into a nationalist movement through symbolic appeals to female purity, while at the same time employment and educational opportunities for women have been somewhat curtailed since the Revolution and modesty norms have been strictly enforced. Although the rank‐and‐file of the Islamic movement includes many women, its leadership remains largely male. Zaynab al‐Ghazālī of Egypt is one of the few women to attain prominence as an Islamic activist.

Women And Islam

In Islam, men and women are moral equals in God’s sight and are expected to fulfill the same duties of worship, prayer, faith, almsgiving, fasting, and pilgrimage to Mecca. Islam generally improved the status of women compared to earlier Arab cultures, prohibiting female infanticide and recognizing women’s full personhood. Islamic law emphasizes the contractual nature of marriage, requiring that a dowry be paid to the woman rather than to her family, and guaranteeing women’s rights of inheritance and to own and manage property. Women were also granted the right to live in the matrimonial home and receive financial maintainance during marriage and a waiting period following death and divorce.

The historical record shows that Muhammad consulted women and weighed their opinions seriously. At least one woman, Umm Waraqah , was appointed imam over her household by Muhammad. Women contributed significantly to the canonization of the Quran. A woman is known to have corrected the authoritative ruling of Caliph Umar on dowry. Women prayed in mosques unsegregated from men, were involved in hadith transmission, gave sanctuary to men, engaged in commercial transactions, were encouraged to seek knowledge, and were both instructors and pupils in the early Islamic period. Muhammad’s last wife, Aishah , was a well-known authority in medicine, history, and rhetoric. The Quran refers to women who pledged an oath of allegiance to Muhammad independently of their male kin. Some distinguished women converted to Islam prior to their husbands, a demonstration of Islam’s recognition of their capacity for independent action. Caliph Umar appointed women to serve as officials in the market of Medina. Biographies of distinguished women, especially in Muhammad’s household, show that women behaved relatively autonomously in early Islam. In Sufi circles, women were recognized as teachers, adherents, “spiritual mothers,” and even inheritors of the spiritual secrets of their fathers.

No woman held religious titles in Islam, but many women held political power, some jointly with their husbands, others independently. The best-known women rulers in the premodern era include Khayzuran , who governed the Muslim Empire under three Abbasid caliphs in the eighth century; Malika Asma bint Shihab al-Sulayhiyya and Malika Arwa bint Ahmad al-Sulayhiyya , who both held power in Yemen in the eleventh century; Sitt al-Mulk , a Fatimid queen of Egypt in the eleventh century; the Berber queen Zaynab al-Nafzawiyah (r. 1061 – 1107 ); two thirteenth-century Mamluk queens, Shajar al-Durr in Cairo and Radiyyah in Delhi; six Mongol queens, including Kutlugh Khatun (thirteenth century) and her daughter Padishah Khatun of the Kutlugh-Khanid dynasty; the fifteenth-century Andalusian queen Aishah al-Hurra , known by the Spaniards as Sultana Madre de Boabdil ; Sayyida al-Hurra , governor of Tetouán in Morocco (r. 1510 – 1542 ); and four seventeenth-century Indonesian queens.

Nevertheless, the status of women in premodern Islam in general conformed not to Quranic ideals but to prevailing patriarchal cultural norms. As a result, improvement of the status of women became a major issue in modern, reformist Islam.

Since the mid-nineteenth century, men and women have questioned the legal and social restrictions on women, especially regarding education, seclusion, strict veiling, polygyny, slavery, and concubinage. Women have published works advocating reforms, established schools for girls, opposed veiling and polygyny, and engaged in student and nationalist movements. Nationalist movements and new states that emerged in the post–World War II period perceived women and gender issues as crucial to social development. State policies enabled groups of women to enter the male-dominated political sphere and professions previously closed to them, although these policies often caused popular and religious backlash.

Debates continue over the appropriate level of female participation in the public sphere. Women are typically viewed as key to either reforming or conserving tradition because of their roles in maintaining family, social continuity, and culture. Women’s status has also been used as a means of defining national identity. Although governments of twentieth-century Muslim nation-states have promoted education for both boys and girls as a means of achieving economic growth, the percentage of girls enrolled in schools in developing countries with large and rapidly growing populations remains low. Concern for men’s jobs has given added incentive to the conservative call for women to adhere to traditional roles as housewives and mothers, although economic necessity has led women to undertake whatever work they can find, usually low-paid, unskilled labor. War and labor migration have increased the number of female-headed households.

Women today are active participants in grassroots organizations; development projects; economic, education, health, and political projects; relief efforts; charitable associations; and social services. Modern reforms have made polygynous marriages difficult or illegal; permitted wives to sue for divorce in religious courts, particularly in cases of cruelty, desertion, or dangerous contagious diseases; provided women with the right to contract themselves in marriage; required husbands to find housing for a divorced wife while she has custody over the children; increased the minimum age for spouses; limited the ability of guardians to contract women in marriage against their wishes; provided opportunities for minor girls wed against their wishes to abrogate the marriage upon reaching majority; enhanced the rights of women with regard to child custody; and allowed women to write clauses into marriage contracts that limit the husband’s authority over them.

In the contemporary era, women have again assumed leadership roles in the Muslim world. Benazir Bhutto was prime minister of Pakistan ( 1988 – 90 , 1993 – 96 ), Tansu ç;iller was prime minister of Turkey ( 1993 – 96 ), and Shaykh Hasina is the current prime minister of Bangladesh ( 1996 –). Nonetheless, tensions remain between traditionalists, who advocate continued patriarchy, and reformists, who advocate continued liberation of women.

Religious Authority of Women

Women hold positions of religious authority in many contemporary Muslim communities despite historical male dominance of formal religious leadership and the institutions and spaces associated with it. Although their authority is often limited by long-standing, often gendered, practices, their activities are significant because they have ended the near-monopoly of men over public religious leadership and increased female participation in lessons and prayer. This article refers to “female Islamic leadership” to specify the role of female authority in an explicitly religious context.

Although historical examples of female Islamic leadership exist, its expansion in the twentieth century needs to be seen alongside more recent changes in society and the place of women within it. Muslim women occupy leadership roles in a wide range of contexts, from the mosques and madrasahs of conservative piety movements, to official religious institutions, to movements trying to transform gender relations completely in Islam.

Authority in Islam is less centralized than in many religions, as is demonstrated by the proliferation of individuals claiming to speak for Islam in the twentieth century. The lack of a single, centrally regulated path to leadership increases the importance of peers and audiences in judging who is a legitimate leader. This less centralized structure provides women with opportunities and challenges. On the one hand, it lowers barriers to entry, making it possible for women—even those without significant religious education—to establish, or rise within, new religious organizations. On the other, it increases the role played by audience expectations, which are often shaped by long-standing sociocultural norms that place additional restrictions on women. What people expect to see in a religious authority is influenced by past examples, and what they expect to hear is influenced by past interpretations, making it difficult for women to advocate change explicitly without losing legitimacy.

Female Islamic Leadership in History.

Prominent historical examples of female Islamic leadership are of several varieties. Women are featured in biographical dictionaries of Islamic scholars before the sixteenth century, often as Companions of the Prophet and ḥadīth transmitters, but occasionally as instructors or scholars. There are also many examples of female Ṣūfī leaders, as women could inherit the barakah of a Ṣūfī saint even in periods and places where women were excluded from the centers of Islamic scholarship in which would-be religious leaders mastered and demonstrated their knowledge. Many contemporary female Islamic leaders are aware of (and cite) these historical examples. It is important, however, to place the significant expansion of female authority within Islam in the context of twentieth-century social and cultural changes.

Women in Twentieth-Century Piety Movements.

Mass movements spreading particular forms of Islamic practice are a major vehicle for female Islamic leadership worldwide, starting in the early twentieth century as social changes increased the public presence and education of women, and especially since the 1970s, with the spread of revivalist movements furthering specific forms of Islamic piety across the Middle East, South and Southeast Asia, Europe, and North America. Female leaders help the movements attract and engage female members.

These leaders often have some formal religious education, possibly provided within the movements themselves, but a significant part of their authority rests on building a reputation within the movement as a committed volunteer, knowledgeable instructor, and pious person. Many of these women are active in spaces that have long been central to religious practice, such as mosques or madrasahs, while others utilize alternative spaces such as public or semi-public spaces outside of mosques (rented premises, universities, other community facilities), private homes, or virtual spaces (television, Internet).

These leaders tend to spread conservative social and religious practices. Further female education and involvement within conservative contexts, where restrictive sociocultural practices are often justified through reference to religion regardless of the degree of support given to them in Islamic texts, nevertheless can enable women to have more influence over their daily lives through explicit reference to Islam.

Positions for Women in Official Islam.

Female leaders have also been invited by states or male leaders to exercise religious leadership within official circles, though often with status lower than their male colleagues. For instance, state-run programs in Morocco and Turkey certify women to work as state employees preaching, teaching, and, in Turkey, even issuing fatwās. Hui women in China capitalized upon past invitations to leadership, as well as the gender-equality policies of the communist state, to establish women-only mosques. Women are serving as deputy muftis focusing on women’s issues in India and Syria, and as judges (qāḍīyahs) in Palestine and Indonesia, the latter being the only setting where qāḍīyahs are equal to their male colleagues.

Opportunities for women to pursue formal religious education also expanded significantly in the second half of the twentieth century, for instance with a women’s section of al-Azhar in Cairo and numerous female madrasahs in Qom. However, this expansion in education has not led to a rise of similar magnitude in the number of women recognized as top religious scholars, perhaps because the emphasis of many of these schools is on proselytization and outreach. The women who have emerged as prominent scholars in the twentieth century include Suʿad Saleh and Abla al-Kahlawy of Egypt, Noṣrat Amīn and Zohreh Ṣefātī of Iran, and Hajjah Maria Ulfah of Indonesia.

Religious Authority and Women Seeking Gender Justice.

A final group of female Islamic leaders aim to change gendered hierarchies radically within Islam. Women such as North America’s Amina Wadud, Asma Barlas, and Kecia Ali, and Germany’s Rabeya Mueller, and organizations such as Malaysia’s Sisters in Islam, combine reinterpretation of the Qurʾān with action, such as leading mixed-gender communal prayer. In North America, women have sought positions on the communal boards that run mosques, and equal distribution of mosque space. In Europe, these groups and thinkers are influential among women trying to figure out how to be Muslim while living in Europe. These female leaders make up a highly visible and inspirational vanguard arguing for major change within Islam. At the same time, this emphasis on change limits their audience and authority to groups and individuals sympathetic to this change.

Women who exercise Islamic religious authority are a heterogeneous group pursuing diverse goals. At the same time, the fact that so many women have successfully established themselves as people who can legitimately speak on behalf of Islam is a significant development that increases the influence and voice of women in a wide range of communities.

Sunnī Islam and Women

[This entry contains two subentries: 

• HISTORICAL OVERVIEW
• CONTEMPORARY THOUGHT AND PRACTICE.]

Historical Overview

This entry on women in Sunnī Islam discusses the impact of Islam on women through history, their participation in Islam, and their role in the religion of Islam and society. In general, the roles of women, who have contributed significantly to their cultures as well as to their religion, remain ignored in history or are only minimally represented. One explanation is that the stories of women have disappeared because of the predominance of the male perspective, as mostly male historians were writing. History therefore, tells us in the first place the activities and achievements of men. Closer examination of various sources, however, reveals hidden layers of female contributions and influences through the ages. It is these contributions and influences that have become more and more visible during the latest decades. Regarding Islam specifically, there is also a growing interest in the contribution and role of women in the history of Islam. The complexity of the position of women and of their relation to Islam is determined by two elements: the Islamic texts and the history of Muslim societies and cultures. Before dealing concisely with the history of women in relation to Islam, a few critical comments about these two elements are necessary.

Critical Comments.

The interest in the history of women in Islam accelerated in the second half of the twentieth century, as a result of the women’s movements in the 1960s and 1970s, called the second wave of feminism, the growing interest in social history, and the publication of Edward Said’s Orientalism. As a branch of history, social history was a major growth field in the 1960s and 1970s. It includes the history of ordinary people and their strategies for coping with life. This approach opened a space in history for formerly marginalized individuals and groups, such as peasants, workers, and women. The history of women quickly grew into a specific field. Said criticized the Orientalist approach, which was based on a dichotomous representation of the so-called inferior Eastern societies as opposed to the superior European societies. The Orientalist epistemology resulted from the inadequate methodology Orientalists use, which Said regarded as outdated. Through the study of key texts, especially written sources such as the Qurʾān, aḥādīth, commentaries on the sacred texts, treatises on religion, and jurisprudence, Orientalists imagined they knew Islamic societies, through time as well as space. The knowledge about the Orient that emerges from this approach resulted in the presentation of Islam, both as a religion and as a culture, as monolithic and unwilling to change. On the Muslim side, on the other hand, modernists like Muḥammad ʿAbduh, Jamāl al-Dīn al-Afghānī, and Muhammad Iqbal have been arguing since the nineteenth century in favor of a reinterpretation of Islam in response to the new challenges with which Muslim communities were confronted. They argued that Islam is a dynamic and progressive religion—a religion that is able to effect change. The gap that arose between the sacred text and its application in daily life made clear the dialectical nature of the relationship between scripture and the social context of the community. This is why attitudes concerning women in Islam, as in other religious traditions and societies, vary throughout time and continue to shift in modern times.

Studying women in Islam and Muslim societies reflects the multifarious realities of Muslim women and Muslim societies. This is why the position of women should always be studied in relation to the context. What is more, such a study cannot be performed from one single point of view. In her description of the diverse contexts in which Muslim women are living, Kandiyoti (1991) emphasizes that the positions of Muslim women can “neither be examined from a purely Islamic ideology or praxis, nor from a global process of Islamic or socio-economic transformation, and nor from a universalistic idea of feminist theories” (p. 2). A unilateral approach as a purely abstract analysis of women in Islam according to the ideals embodied in the Qurʾān and aḥādīth would ignore the interaction of the Islamic faith with different cultures, as well as the influence thereof. In addition, it should not be forgotten that the (local) interpretation of Islam was, and still is, the interpretation of the dominant group in society and that the first interpreters were men from these cultures. As a result, more important than the actual representation of women and the feminine symbolism in the sacred books are the interpretations of these performances within the respective traditions.

Historical Overview.

Throughout Islamic history, the constructs, institutions, and modes of thought devised by early Muslim societies form the core discourses of Islam that have played a central role in defining women’s place in Muslim societies. In her work Women and Gender in Islam (1992), Leila Ahmed involves the broader context of the Near East when she explains the impact of the context and its relevance to Islam. She refers to the impact of ethnic and religious groups other than the Muslims in the region (such as Mesopotamia, Greece, Egypt, and Iran) and their contributions to what is considered Islam or Islamic. Other scholars believe that the Islamic system of jurisprudence has evolved naturally without outside interference.

The question of whether and how Islam has affected the position and status of women in pre- and early Islamic Arabia and the Middle East is complicated, because of the very limited sources and other materials about women. The literary sources about the early history of Islam are poetry, the narratives of the ayyām al-ʿarab, Qurʾānic materials, and early Muslim literature (sīrah, tafsīr, ḥadīth, and biographical dictionaries). Many of these materials, however, contain clear evidence of later-added ideological, theological, and political content, which reduce their historical reliability. It complicates the use of these sources to explore the impact of Islam on women, on their participation in Islam, and on the tribal society of that time. It can be said that the sources concerning the position of women in the early history of Islam are used by scholars in different ways, with varying degrees of critical distance and sophistication in methodology. Common subjects in these studies are property and inheritance rights for women, marriage and divorce, polygyny, female honor, and female infanticide. Depending on the criticism and methodology, different results are noticeable: when one uses contrastive readings between time periods, scholars can argue that the coming of Islam had a positive impact on women’s lives, while other scholars state that Islam negatively affected the position of women in Arabia and in the Islamic world in general. Questions about the method of contrastive readings of time periods to assess Islam’s impact on the position of women in Arabia, and later the Islamic world, continue to occupy scholarly critical discourse.

Another distinctive approach among scholars exploring the impact of Islam on women during the transition from the pre-Islamic period to the period of early Islam is an analysis by means of fault lines. Several researchers address the position of women by tracing continuities or discontinuities. For example, Jane Smith (1985) indicates how the attempts to portray the condition of women in pre-Islamic Arabia as bad, in order to emphasize subsequent Islamic improvements, are overly naive. She explains how the Qurʾān helped to improve women’s legal capability regarding family relations as compared to the situation immediately preceding Islam, but also stresses how Islam, as a religious and cultural system, limited women’s opportunities to participate fully in society.

According to Karmi (1996), the stark disparity between pre-Islamic and Islamic realities as presented in some historical sources proves how a radical alteration of the social structures and gender roles by Islam does primarily have a theological function, and is not necessarily a historical claim. In this sense, several scholars assert that the Qurʾān outlines gender equality and argue that the first generations of Muslims watered down the Islamic revelation’s commitment to women when coming into contact with already established civilizations. These transformations in the attitude of men toward women after the death of the Prophet Muḥammad make scholars less divided regarding the further development of women’s position, as compared to the early period of Islam. More and more studies are showing how women had rights in the early period of Islam that were later taken from them. It became more or less a consensus among scholars that the status of women, as evidenced by post-Muḥammadan practices and jurisprudential injunctions, declined as a result of highly patriarchal socio-sexual norms and practices already ingrained in Arabian social structures or in newly conquered territories.

However, traces of women in this period of history have been found, especially in biographical dictionaries, which are the richest sources for the history of women. Biographical dictionaries were used by the ʿulamāʾ to immortalize themselves. They contain a detailed picture of intellectual life and important material for social and economic history. Regarding the history of women, two groups of women about whom there is a critical mass of information can be discerned: the women of Mecca and Medina of the first Islamic century, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the notable women of Egypt, Syria, and Arabia in the later Middle Ages (the fourteenth to fifteenth centuries). The first group of women entered literature because of their proximity to the Prophet, as witnesses who related ḥadīth. The meaning of the biographical dictionaries was twofold: not only the facts regarding the represented subject were important, but also the way these facts were represented. Such representation happens in a way that fits subjects, men and women, into certain “ideal types” of personality to which Islamic culture attributed value. Historical female figures who became ideal types are Khadījah, ʿĀʾisha, and Fāṭimah. Several authors indicate how ʿĀʾisha’s life, in particular, became a role model for the lives of Sunnī Muslim women. Throughout the medieval period, Muslim scholars based the appearance of real women upon female archetypes found in the Qurʾān. The second group of women is accounted for in biographies of approximately 1,300 women of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Their biographies are written by their contemporary Ibn Ḥajar (al-Durar al-kāminah [Hidden Pearls]) and his student al-Sakhāwī (al-Ḍawʾ al-lāmiʾ [Brilliant Light]). These dictionaries tell about the notables of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, mostly ʿulamāʾ, but also about the high-ranking officials of the Mamlūk establishment in cities such as Cairo, Damascus, Jerusalem, Mecca, and Medina. In his final volume (out of twelve), al-Sakhāwī addressed the women of the same families and classes, including concubines and women who were merchants, poets, midwives, and entertainers. Some women were famous for their transmission of Islamic learning or for their skill at calligraphy. These biographical dictionaries deliver the information required to understand the role late-medieval women played in Muslim learning. They contain evidence of women’s involvement in economic life, property, and religious endowments. The analysis of the often detailed personal information in al-Sakhāwī’s biographies gives information about, for example, the occurrence of marriage, divorce, remarriage, and polygamy.

Despite these traces of (religious) active women, history shows how the religious role and practice of women in society, and particularly regarding Islam, became more and more restricted. An increasing number of reasons were found by (male) religious scholars: “from moral degeneration in society to woman’s tendency to be a source of temptation and social discord” (Esposito, 1998, p. xiii). The fact that the sources that lie at the basis of Islam have been interpreted mainly by men contributes legitimacy to this as well (p. ix). Religious orthodoxy in Islam fell into the hands of men. They are responsible for the religious context in which women move. Yet the image of seclusion of women given in medieval literature (such as fiqh) is more representative of how it was thought women should live than an actual representation of women’s real lives. This becomes even more clear when comparing the observation of Shaykh Muḥammad al-Ghazālī in the mid-twentieth century that “ninety percent of the veiled women do not pray at all; nor do they know of the other duties of Islam more than their names” (Esposito, 1998, p. xiii) with Leila Ahmed’s comment that women always have had “their understanding of Islam,” which was “an understanding that was different from men’s Islam, ‘official’ Islam” (Ahmed, 1999, p. 120).

Modern Trends.

However, the normative view of Muslim women gained the upper hand, both for Muslims and for non-Muslims. The women issue became a central stumbling block in the debates about modernizing reforms in Islamic societies during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. From that period onward, governments, intellectuals, and religious leaders have attempted to face the challenges set by European colonialism and the impact of the “modern” West. The lives of women throughout most of the nineteenth century remained the same as in the eighteenth. Depending on each particular country, women experienced only small changes brought about by the reforms by the nation-states. New state laws and reforms have undoubtedly given women greater access to public services (e.g., in education and health), political rights, and relative job equality. Yet although the intent might be equality, in practice, women mainly experienced worsening gender relations. After all, many of the assumptions of modern scholars—including fuqahā’—regarding the (historical) position of Muslim women were (and still are) not founded on reality. These assumptions hold their influence from the way the Qurʾān—like other scriptures—was used to build hegemonic patriarchal discourses. Beliefs about the seclusion of women, women’s private work at home, veiling, men’s responsibility as moral guides to their wives, men’s right to divorce women at will while women’s access to divorce is restricted, and polygyny, are all central subjects in these discourses. Since the 1960s and 1970s, scholars have more and more accepted that these discourses are constructed and have gained a life of their own, enforcing a reality that has little to do with the original message and laws they supposedly represent. Slowly, attention is shifting to the contention that women are not simply objects, but that they actually are subjects and active agents of both Islamic and secular modernizing schemes. Indeed, Muslim women frequently disrupt the Islamic/modern or religious/secular dichotomy, in order to act in their own interests.

Many Muslim women themselves have already gone beyond simply asking questions about their religion: they seek for themselves an Islam applicable to their life context. There is a growing number of studies about the role of women as derived from a rereading of the Qurʾānic text or a new consideration of the ḥadīth literature, and about the contribution of women in the interpretive legacy of Islamic exegesis of texts. They gradually make the traditionalists’ views on what real Islam is evolve and change. These studies challenge the patriarchal order and the “orthodox” Sunnī readings of the Qurʾānic text and ḥadīth literature, by demonstrating how, not the texts themselves, but the interpretations thereof, have allowed patriarchal traditions to persist.

Contemporary Thought and Practice

Sunnī Islam is the majority religious opinion across the Islamic world (at least 85 percent of Muslims) and is spread across diverse national, ethnic, and denominational groups, including indigenous communities in South and Central Asia, the Middle East, Southeast Asia, Africa, Europe, and diaspora and convert communities in the West. In each of these regions, distinct sociocultural, economic, and political contexts influence discourses about Muslim women, their lives, and their social roles. For women, this is further complicated by constantly changing sociopolitical fabrics in each of these communities. It is difficult to elucidate all contemporary thought and practice within Sunnī Islam that is relevant to women, but it is important to give an overview that can lead to further literary and research-based explorations.

According to The Oxford Dictionary of Islam, Sunnī life is guided by four schools of legal thought: Ḥanafī, Mālikī, Shāfiʿī, and Ḥanbalī. Although Sunnī Islam comprises a variety of theological and legal schools, attitudes, and outlooks conditioned by historical setting, locale, and culture, Sunnīs around the world share some common points, including acceptance of the legitimacy of the first four successors of Muḥammad (Abū Bakr, ʿUmar, ʿUthmān, and ʿAlī). Although the distinction between Sunnī and Shīʿī Islam is easily achieved in theology and religious-studies disciplines, it is not always possible within contemporary women’s studies to distinguish between the two sides of the Sunnī–Shīʿī dichotomy, except perhaps where specific denominational or regional indicators are available.

The Category “Muslim Women.”

With regard to contemporary Muslim women’s issues, the Sunnī–Shīʿī divide seems to be superseded by Muslim women’s similar struggles: (1) for their social, religious, and civic rights, (2) against patriarchy, and (3) against stereotypical views of “invisible” Muslim women who are assumed to be absent from sociopolitical endeavors. In their struggles against patriarchy, Muslim women also share common ground with women from other religious and non-religious backgrounds who, in many contexts, have similar life experiences.

Discussions about gender issues in the Muslim world are further complicated by heterogeneity within the category “Muslim woman.” The simultaneous fetishization and oversimplification of this category perpetuates stereotypical imagery of Muslim women, usually as meek and subjugated, epitomized in contemporary contexts by media images of Afghani women. More recently, some stereotypes associate Muslim women with political Islam and less commonly with violent extremism. This category of “Muslim woman” and associated stereotypes are often incapable of acknowledging the rich ethnic, cultural, and social diversities among Muslim women and the variations in their belief and faith practice, including, but not limited to, denominational differences and socioeconomic class.

Muslim women, like Muslim men, practice Islam in many diverse ways. Some are more devout than others. John Bowen tries to differentiate between croyant and pratiquant, or “believing Muslims” and “practicing Muslims.” According to Bowen, a croyant may fast and eat only ḥalāl meat, but does not regularly pray. Pratiquants regularly pray and pratiquant women normally wear hijab. He also adds that “designating someone as a pratiquant can carry with it tones of fanaticism” (2007, pp. 195 ) because of Western media imagery inscribed upon Islamic belief and practices. Bowen’s croyant/pratiquantdistinction is a useful illustration of different ways of being Muslim, but a caveat must be added that both categories are ambiguous and exceedingly problematic to define. There are also multiple stances that are possible between and beyond these categories.

Some of the complexities discussed above are clearly refuted by Muslim women’s visible participation in the Arab Spring or uprisings in Middle Eastern and North African Muslim states (2011–2012). Some commentators describe women’s visibility in these uprisings as “uncharacteristic.” Nevertheless, women’s contributions to this Arab Spring are both indicative and symptomatic of the complexities within contemporary thinking and practice relevant to women in Sunnī Islam, including women’s access to wider social roles and participation. News coverage of protests in Tahrir Square (which became the focus of protests in Egypt, which is majority Sunnī) depict ḥijābī and non-ḥijābī Muslim women participating in protests, in a united show of women’s strength and agency. Women and men shared the same space in protests—supporting and being supported by each other—which is characteristic of some forms of Islamic feminism. Finally, denominational and sectarian differences were not always visible.

Moving beyond the more optimistic imagery indicated in coverage of the Arab Spring, recent sociopolitical statistics provide a macro picture of the challenges Muslim women continue to face. The 2005 World Economic Forum report indicates that countries with majority Muslim populations rank lowest in women’s empowerment, which implies that women in these countries have the lowest levels of economic participation and opportunity, political empowerment, and educational attainment. The Sachar Report (2006) commissioned by the government of India is a high-profile investigation into the status of Muslims in India (Indian Muslims are mostly Sunnī). Its findings show that Muslim women have much lower literacy levels compared to women from other religious backgrounds. This disparity in the educational achievements of Indian Muslim women influences their careers, health, lives, and futures. If we compare that with Muslim women’s situation in the United Kingdom, for example, the 2006 Social Trends report indicates that Muslim women have the highest level of economic inactivity, at 69 percent compared to between 25 percent and 36 percent for women belonging to other faith groups or for those who have no religion. (Muslims in the United Kingdom come from diverse ethnic and denominational backgrounds. Although exact statistics are not available, immigration patterns and research indicate a majority Sunnī population.)

Muslim women thus lag behind their counterparts from other communities in education, as well as in the workplace. Such statistics indicate the predominance of patriarchal interpretations of religious doctrine in some Muslim communities, which often discourage women from participating in wider society. Some thinkers attribute this continuing patriarchy to legacies of colonialism and Muslim political responses to colonial rulers, which, in their zeal to protect women, often restricted their movements and rights.

Islamic Scholarship “by and for” Women.

Muslim women are, however, challenging patriarchy on many fronts, as is evident in the resurgence of activism and scholarship led by them. This genre of female Muslim scholarship, by interrogating patriarchal interpretations of Islam, establishes “women-friendly” arguments. Such scholarship extends to exegetical studies of Muslim religious scripture; pedagogies to empower Muslim women; explorations of religious and historical roles of Muslim women; sociological studies of Muslim women; Muslim women geographies; and the feminisms of Muslim women. This resurgence of scholarship by and for Muslim women includes male scholars and also scholars who are not Muslim. Such scholarship includes Sunnī and Shīʿī scholars and affects all Muslim women.

There is another brand of scholarship: Muslim women graduating from Muslim seminaries as ʿālimahs or female scholars, who are influencing faith practice in local communities and beyond. This genre of scholarship may seem more traditional and orthodox in outlook; nevertheless, by informing Muslim women of their rights, they give them agency. The work of the following three scholars is indicative of the diverse nature and potential of such female scholarship: Dr. Farhat Hashimi, a Pakistani Sunnī scholar who practices strict veiling, has used Internet resources and local knowledge to establish international networks of women who gather on a weekly basis to study Islam and the Qurʾān; Shaikha Halima Krausen, a convert to Islam and scholar who leads her mosque community in Hamburg, Germany, regularly runs courses on Islamic thought and interfaith dialogue; Houda al-Habash runs an Islamic school for girls in Syria that inspires them to progress into education and professions. These scholars and others are emerging as public figures in Muslim communities. A number of other traditionally trained female scholars work in their local communities without gaining wider recognition. These ʿālimahs undertake social work, interfaith activities, pastoral care, counseling, chaplaincy, and teaching in their local and religious communities.

There are, therefore, two aspects to scholarship that is “by and for” Muslim women. One genre is more academic and usually framed in Western epistemological thinking. The other is faith-based and is framed within classical Islamic sciences. In the past, these two strands developed independently of each other. Increasingly, the two genres are being bridged, usually by Muslim women who have an appreciation for and grasp of both types of thinking.

Activism by and for Muslim Women.

Muslim women in many Sunnī contexts are challenging patriarchal interpretations of their faith and seek to garner rights and agency for themselves. Such activism is partly informed and inspired by Islamic religious scholarship and partly by their interactions with the wider pluralist world, made possible by increased educational and communication opportunities, including on the Internet. In Saudi Arabia, women’s activism has been successful on some fronts: education, opening up of career pathways, and the first female Saudi athlete’s participation in the 2012 London Olympics. On other fronts, their struggles continue—such as permission for women to drive. Pakistani and Indian women are articulating constructs of feminism that challenge Western secular constructs of women’s liberation and also patriarchal constructs of Islam. These movements are distinctly Muslim, retain cultural characteristics of the women who articulate them, and involve both men and women.

In Malaysia, the work of the organization Sisters in Islam challenges discriminatory family laws and argues for greater social rights for women. Indonesian Muslim women activists draw inspiration from Islam for a variety of political reform projects. In Turkey, since the 1990s, religious Muslim women have begun to “reshape their identities and to demand participation instead of representation, and women who wore headscarves founded several organizations to participate in the political sphere and in the women’s movements in Turkey” (Ozcetin, p. 111). In the West, women who promote “gender jihad” are creating an alternative discourse that subscribes neither to dogmatic traditionalist interpretations of Islam nor to secular liberal feminisms.

Islamic Feminisms.

This leads to discussion about the feminisms of Muslim women and how they balance competing understandings of “femininity,” “modesty,” “modernity,” “piety,” and “agency,” which are perceived differently by Muslim women, by their Muslim communities, and by wider pluralist settings (which some Muslim women inhabit and to which, in a globalized world, most Muslim women are connected). It is issues such as this difference between “being” and “perceiving” that influence Islamic feminist philosophies and their application to everyday situations. Islamic feminisms are usually grounded in the Islamic beliefs of these women and are underpinned by their sociocultural milieus. These feminisms are thus diverse and reflect global–local intersections of emancipatory feminist ideals; Islamic theological interpretations; national, ethnic, and cultural ontologies; and the individual Muslim woman.

According to Jeenah, “Islamic feminism is, first, an ideology that uses the Qurʾān and sunnah to provide the ideals for gender relationships, as well as weapons in the struggle to transform society so that gender equality is accepted as a principle around which society is structured. Secondly, it is the struggle of Muslim women and men for the emancipation of women based on this ideology” (2006, pp. 30). Islamic feminists insist that they are inspired by Islam and the women heroes of Islam who stood up for justice and human rights—that Islam is a force of empowerment, rather than of disempowerment.

This feminism seeks to challenge patriarchy and patriarchal understandings of faith, yet these “Islamic feminists” constantly achieve their goals and rights through partnerships with men. They also challenge stereotypical imagery of Muslim women and seek to replace this with images of Muslim women as contributing citizens in a pluralist world. Thus, this feminism is a dual struggle against vestiges of patriarchy in Muslim communities and against increasingly popular secular suspicions of visible religiosity.

However, Islamic feminism also remains a controversial and sensitive subject. Some Muslim women are suspicious of feminism. Others hold naïve views about feminist scholarship, associating it with practices that they consider incompatible with their faith or culture. A few embrace the label and the scholarship. In the end, what is common to many such women is that, although they avoid the label, many use feminist language and arguments. Instead of using the label “feminism,” these women seem to prefer the tag “reclaiming faith.” According to Al Farūqi, when it comes to feminism and Islam, there are no “pat answers” (1991, p. 23).

Hijab and Women in the Public Sphere.

Muslim women’s hijab is much debated in secular scholarship, in feminist literature, in Islamic theology, in Muslim communities, and within popular media. The nature of the debates varies from feminist arguments about the hijab’s perceived “oppression” of women to the Muslim apologist’s version that portrays the hijab as an emancipator of the women who wear it and as a hallmark of piety. Such over-signification of the hijab, evident both within Muslim communities and in multicultural society, distracts from other more important discussions that society needs to have about Muslim women. The media coverage and political discourse around the banning of burqas or face veils in France and Belgium is an example of this excessive focus on what Muslim women wear. By focusing on “hijab, the garment,” such discourses usually fail to convey to readers the more nuanced meanings that “hijab, the concept” holds for the women who wear it, and who consider it to be a divinely ordained framework that defines guidelines for both male and female modesty. Also, existing literature surrounding the hijab often treats it as a homogeneous practice, failing to contextualize the multitude of cultural, regional, theological, linguistic, and individual understandings that influence the way it is practiced and worn.

Some scholars comment on the resurgence of the hijab and veiling practices, particularly among younger women in the West. This is sometimes associated with a rise in political Islam. Empirical work with Muslim women, however, indicates that their practice of hijab is part of their reclamation of religion from patriarchal interpretations of faith and their wearing of the hijab gives them religious authority and agency. Thus, particularly in Western pluralist contexts, the hijab becomes a feminist tool. It can also become a dialogical tool, signifying the wearer as an informed representative of her faith.

Summary.

As discussed above, the hijab can potentially give its wearers a degree of authority within Muslim communities and in wider pluralist contexts. Further questions remain, however, about the extent and limits of Muslim women’s authority in Sunnī Islam. This discussion has been politicized by sensationalism around the leading of mixed prayer congregations by the female American scholar Amina Wadud. These issues around authority constitute a serious discussion that many Muslim women and their communities are having. Women’s leadership of mixed congregations remains a controversial area with which, according to empirical work, many Muslim women disagree. However, there are other areas of authority in scholarship, interpretation, and teaching, and in social, civil, political, and religious roles, that Muslim women are achieving for themselves. The significance, possibilities, and limitations of this emerging female leadership in Muslim communities needs to be recognized by the media and policy makers. There is also an urgent need to celebrate the contributions of such women leaders, to create role models for younger generations to emulate and be inspired by.

Shīʿī Islam and Women

[This entry contains two subentries: 

• HISTORICAL OVERVIEW
• CONTEMPORARY THOUGHT AND PRACTICE.]

Historical Overview

The position of women in Shīʿī history has been, in theory, greatly enhanced by the prominent place accorded to the Prophet’s daughter Fātimah, both in Shīʿī history and in the Shīʿī interpretation of the Qurʾān. There are, however, some negative factors for women in Shīʿism, such as the practice of temporary marriage (mutaʿah), which is accepted by Twelver Shīʿīs but not by Ismāʿīlī Shīʿīs. The actual status of women in Shīʿī societies has, in fact, been determined more by local cultures than by any theoretical considerations. We are still a long way from fully understanding this, as women remained invisible in most of the available historical sources. The evidence available so far, however, indicates that Shīʿī women had no more rights and were no freer than their Sunni counterparts in most of the Islamic world for most periods of history. Women who lived on the outer margins of the Islamic world were relatively freer than those living in the Islamic heartlands.

The Holy Family and Early Shīʿī Women of Bahrain and Iran.

For Shīʿīs, Fātimah holds a special place both as the only child of the Prophet Muḥammad to grow to adulthood and to have descendants, thus becoming the progenitor of the line of Shīʿī Imāms. While Sunnīs interpreted Qurʾān 33:32–33 as honoring Muḥammad’s wives, Shīʿīs considered these verses to refer to Fātimah and her daughters and female descendants. Furthermore, in the Akhbārī interpretation of the Qurʾān, she is the niche in the Light Verse of the Qurʾān (24:35), and the lamp in that verse symbolizes her sons, Ḥasan and Ḥusayn. She is also the brilliant light (kawākibun durrīyun) in that verse. In Twelver collections of Traditions, she is placed alongside the Prophet Muḥammad and the twelve Imāms as the Fourteen Immaculate Ones (chāhārdah maʿsūmīn), the lights that were the first things to separate from God. These, in the fully developed philosophy of ḥikmat-i ilāhī (the School of Isfahan), replace the Primal Will or Primal Intellect as the first emanations from God and the cause of the whole of the rest of creation. Consequently she is deemed capable of interceding for believers (Shīʿīs) on the Day of Judgment. Historically, Fāṭimah’s insistence on her right to her inheritance from her father (the oasis of Fadak) had an effect on women’s legal rights of inheritance. Also important in Shīʿī history are Khadījah (the first wife of Muḥammad, the mother of Fāṭimah, and the first woman believer, who supported Muḥammad in the difficult early years of his prophethood), and Zaynab (the daughter of Fāṭimah and ʿAlī, who championed the cause of the family of ʿAlī after its defeat and massacre at Karbalā).

These three women—Fāṭimah, Khadījah, and Zaynab—have provided role models for Shīʿī women, both domestically as good daughters, wives, and mothers, and also publicly for social engagement and occupying high positions in society. Also from this period is Shahrbānū, the daughter of the last Sasanian monarch Yazdigird. Her marriage to the third Imam, Ḥusayn, served the cause of Iranian nationalism well, but is likely just a pious fiction (Amir-Moezzi, 2011, pp. 45–100). Historically, for the first 300 years of Shīʿī history, the only Shīʿī women mentioned in the histories were descendants of the Prophet Muḥammad, such as the sister of the eighth Imam Fāṭimah Maʿṣūmah (d. 816 CE), whose shrine is the center of the religious complex at Qum, and occasionally the womenfolk of prominent Shīʿī families.

While the central orthodoxy of Islam became increasingly patriarchal in the years following the death of Muḥammad, groups situated on the margins of Islamic society, both religiously and geographically, often allowed women more of a social role. The Qarmaṭī Ismāʿīlī Shīʿīs of Bahrayn and al-Aḥsā (tenth century), are reported, for example, to have allowed women to go unveiled and to mix freely with men (Ahmed, 1992, pp. 98–99), although this may have been an attempt by the enemies of the Qarmaṭīs to blacken their name by attributing sexual license to them (Cortese and Calderini, 2006, pp. 26–27). Occasionally in the tenth to twelfth centuries, we read of exceptional Shīʿī women rising to positions of power, such as Sayyidah Khātūn (also known as Shīrīn, d. A.D.419/1028 CE), a Bavand princess married to Fakhr al-Dawlah who held the reins of power in western Iran under the Buyid dynasty for some thirty years. Women are said to have had an important place in society in Daylām (now the province of Gīlān in Iran), whence the Buyids came (Busse, 1975, pp. 252–253, 306–308). It is from the Buyid period that we have the earliest evidence for the existence of ritual mourning for the martyred Imam Ḥusayn and for women’s participation in this rite (Aghaie, 2005, p. 5).

Ismāʿīlī Shīʿīs in North Africa and Yemen.

The Ismāʿīlī Shīʿī Fatimid dynasty, which ruled in North Africa from 909, in Egypt and Syria from 969, and in Arabia from 1037, until the final fall of the dynasty in 1171, depended for its legitimacy on descent through a woman, Fāṭimah, the daughter of the Prophet, and for this reason called itself Fatimid. Women seem to have played a prominent role in the early phase of the Ismāʿīlī mission (daʿwah) in North Africa, probably due to the greater social role of women in the Berber tribes of North Africa. The women of that area continued to appear prominently in the annals of the Zirid dynasty that ruled there, at first on behalf of the Fatimids and later independently (Cortese and Calderini, 2006, pp. 28–29, 58–60, 92–93).

During Fatimid times, the mothers of caliphs often played an important role in ensuring the succession of their sons, which enabled them to become powerful figures at court: Karīmah ensured the succession of her son al-Manṣur in 946 CE And Rasad ensured the succession of her son al-Mustanṣir in 1036 CE, then only seven years old, and she played an important role in state affairs until 1073 CE At other times, it was the aunt of the caliph who ensured the succession and wielded power afterwards: Sitt al-Mulk (970–1023 CE) was influential during the reign of her brother al-Ḥakīm and, after his disappearance in 1021 CE, ensured the succession of al-Ẓāhir and ruled as regent until her death. Aunts of the caliphs also attained positions of power in the reigns of the last three Fatimid caliphs, who all were children when they acceded to the caliphate. As distinct from many other dynasties, which would use marriages of the royal women to create alliances and reward allies, the Fatimids appear to have kept many of the women of the royal household unmarried. Nevertheless, these women, as well as the womenfolk of high government officials, possessed great wealth in their own right, some of it given to them by their menfolk and some of it earned through trade and other activities. With this wealth, they built and endowed mosques and other public buildings. It appears that under the Fatimids, ordinary women were relatively free to go out into the streets, go to the market or the public baths, and mix freely with men. Toward the end of their dynasty, however, the Fatimids seem to have become more disposed to controlling the activities of their women subjects. The caliph al-Ḥakīm, in particular, instituted a number of decrees against women, ordering that they not go out at night, that they not wear jewelry in public, and eventually even that they not go to public baths and cemeteries (Cortese and Calderini, 2006, pp. 114–127, 163–176, 191–199).

In Yemen, where women appear to have held a more prominent place in society (indeed, it has been suggested that Yemen had a matrilineal society in pre-Islamic times), two Ismāʿīlī Shīʿī queens together ruled for almost a century. The first was Asmā, who, from 1037 CE, ruled at first jointly with her husband, ʿAli, the founder of the Ṣulayḥī dynasty and, after his death in 1067 CE, continued to play an important role until her death in 1074 CE The second was her daughter-in-law Arwā (al-Sayyidah al-Ḥurra), who, from 1074 CE until her own death in 1137 CE, held both spiritual and temporal authority in Yemen on behalf of the Fatimid caliph, initially in the name of her paralyzed first husband al-Mukarram and then in the name of her son al-Mukarram junior and, after his death, in the name of her second husband Sabā (Mernissi, 1993, pp. 146–158; Cortese and Calderini, 2006, pp. 127–140). During this period, the lands under the rule of these two women prospered. Interestingly, today’s Ṭayyibī Ismāʿīlīs (the Dawoodi and Sulaymani Bohras of India and Yemen) trace the spiritual authority of their leaders back to the appointment of the first of them by Arwā.

The Ṣafavids in Iran.

It was the Ṣafavid dynasty (1501–1722) that established Twelver Shiʿism as the main religion of the people of Iran. Sources for women during this period are, however, scant and more research is needed. The Ṣafavids, in contrast to the Fatimids, used royal women to create alliances with surrounding dynasties through marriage, especially in the early years of the dynasty. In later years, as a result of a change in priorities, royal women tended to be married to prominent religious leaders. The women of the Ṣafavid courts of the sixteenth century were well educated, independently wealthy, patrons of the arts and letters, and often involved in political, administrative, and sometimes even military decisions. Shah Ismāʿīl’s wife, Tājlū Khānum (d. 1540), was a counselor to her husband and the power behind the throne during the early years of the reign of her son Ṭahmāsp I. Parī Khān Khānum (1548–1578) played a prominent political role during the reign of her father, Shah Ṭahmāsp I, and after his death in 1576 held the reins of power as de facto ruler for varying periods of time (1577–1578). Khayr al-Nisā Bigum (d. 1579) was involved in all important decisions from the start of the reign of her husband, Shah Muḥammad Khudābandah, in 1578, and ruled Iran for some seventeen months during her husband’s illness in 1578–1579, during which time she led the Ṣafavid army to war against the Ottomans. She came from Māzandarān in north Iran, and there seems to have been a tradition of women taking an active role in social affairs in that province and the neighboring province of Gīlān (Szuppe in Hambly, 1998, pp. 329–335; Babayan in Hambly, 1998, pp. 352–356).

In seventeenth-century Ṣafavid Iran, however, as Twelver Shiʿi Islam became more legalistic and rigid in its interpretations, both the women of the royal court and women in society generally became much more confined in their social freedom, participation in social and political affairs, and ability to control their own lives. Nevertheless, the accession of Shāh Sulṭān Ḥusayn in 1694 was largely secured by his great aunt Maryam Bigum, who exercised great influence. It is in the Ṣafavid period that there was the full development of the Shīʿī practice of Rawz̤ah-khānī (the emotive recounting of the story of the martyrdom of the Shīʿī Imams, especially Imam Ḥusayn), and performance of taʿziyah (a passion play of the story of the Imams and their martyrdoms). These practices became important for the development of women’s religious life in all parts of the Shīʿī world.

India.

The largest and most well-established Shīʿī community in India was in Awadh (Oudh, now part of Uttar Pradesh) and its capital Lakhnau (Lucknow). The nawabs of Awadh were Shīʿīs and founded a state in 1722 that was independent of the Mughal Empire from 1819. The women of the court of the nawabs played an important role in social and political affairs, as well as being great patrons of the arts and religious commemorations. In the late eighteenth century, Bahū Begam and Ṣadr al-Nisā Begam, the wife and mother of the Shujāʿ al-Dawlah (r. 1754–1776), had extensive staffs of some tens of thousands of people and were so wealthy that they could subsidize the state treasury when it needed to pay a large sum to the British. They patronized the arts, literature, dance, music, and architecture, as well as sponsoring religious ritual performances. Fakhr al-Nisā Begam (d. 1893), the daughter of Muḥammad ʿAlī Shāh, built the imposing Imambara of Mughal Saheba. The court women often led court factions usually focused on one or another possible successor to the current nawab. There were also courtesans, some of whom gained sufficient wealth and property to be independent. Indeed, the women in Lakhnau became so influential that British and Muslim observers in the nineteenth century condemned the rulers of Awadh as effeminate and dominated by their women—a circumstance that the British used to justify taking control of the area in 1856 (Fisher in Hambly, 1998, pp. 489–520).

In this marginal area of the Shīʿī world, women were relatively freer and more able to make decisions about their own lives, both at the level of the court and in the middle classes. This freedom allowed them, for example, sometimes to adopt a few Hindu practices and beliefs. They were, however, devout Muslims and particularly devoted to the Shīʿī rituals of mourning. There are occasional reports here, as in Lebanon, of families with only daughters switching from Sunnī to Shīʿī Islam to take advantage of the Shīʿī laws of inheritance, which are more generous to women (Cole, 2005, pp. 138–160).

Qājār Iran.

The Qājār dynasty ruled Iran from 1794 to 1925. Women in Qājār Iran inherited the restrictive interpretations of Islamic law in relation to women formulated by the clerics of the late Ṣafavid period, such as Muḥammad Bāqir Majlisī. Some of the women of the wealthier classes spent most of their time doing nothing at all or, at most, cooking and preparing sweetmeats. When the American missionary S. G. Wilson (Persian Life and Customs, 1895, p. 259) asked some of them how they spend their time, they replied, “We do nothing but sleep, eat, and wonder what we will have for the next meal. ” Despite this, some women did influence their husbands and sons, and through them had an effect on society. Mahd-i Ulyā (d. 1873), for example, was able to exert great influence on state affairs during the reign of her husband, Muḥammad Shāh, and the early years of the reign of her son Nāṣir al-Dīn Shāh, except when Amīr Kabīr was prime minister.

Although women wore various types of outdoor clothes in Ṣafavid times, by the late Qājār period, this variety had been reduced to the chādur, a uniform black piece of cloth covering the whole body. During the Qājār period, typical religious activities for women included attending Rawz̤ah-khānī and taʿziyah, which were sometimes female-only; visiting the shrines of descendants of the Imāms; offering naz̤r, votive offerings of food to the poor; and holding sufras, votive offerings of a meal usually in the name of a female member of the house of the Prophet. Crying during the commemorations of the martyrdoms of the Imāms had both a ritual and a cathartic aspect to it. Religious gatherings were one of the main ways in which women would meet and obtain advice and support from one another (Mahdavi, 1994).

In general, it was not thought necessary or even advisable to educate women. Nevertheless, some women of the upper classes did manage to obtain an education, and in a few clerical families, there seems to have been a tradition of educating the women. Examples of this include the Majlisī family of Isfahan from the Ṣafavid period and the Baraghānī family of Qazvīn from the Qajar period. From the latter family came Qurrat al-ʿAyn Ṭāhirah (1817–1852), who rebelled against the norms imposed upon her gender, left her husband, and proceeded to Karbalā to pursue her studies. Defying her family, she later joined the Bābī movement, was appointed by the Bāb to be one of his eighteen leading disciples, and famously appeared unveiled at a conference of the Bābīs, thereby announcing the abrogation of the Islamic sharīʿah, and was eventually executed for her beliefs (Milani, 1992, pp. 77–99).

Another woman who strove to break the restrictions imposed upon her gender, but this time under the influence of Western ideas, was Tāj al-Salṭanah (1883–1936). A further indication of the influence of the West upon women was the fact that women took part in the street demonstrations against the Tobacco Régie (monopoly) in 1893 and in favor of the Constitution in 1905–1911, even going so far as to mob the shah’s carriage and create a human chain to prevent attacks on the male demonstrators. Despite this active involvement, they were not granted the vote in the Constitution. Yet after the Constitutional Revolution, an increasing number of girls’ schools were founded.

Assessment.

In conclusion, although there have been periods when Shīʿī women have played a significant social role, this has been as a result of local cultural factors rather than owing to Shīʿī Islam itself. In general, Shīʿī Islam has not been any more advantageous to women than Sunni Islam, despite some theoretical advantages. One caveat pertaining to this entry is that there is a great dearth of reliable information about women throughout the whole of Shīʿī history. For some important areas of the Shīʿī world (such as Iraq and Lebanon), there is insufficient material to assess the history of Shīʿī women. Hence, this survey has perforce been mainly about those women who rose to prominence rather than about women in general. Yet even some prominent women may have remained hidden because of bias against women. The general view in the Islamic world has been that women are not fit to govern or to play any leading role in society, and thus those who do succeed in doing so, despite this bias, are often subject to a collective amnesia or denigration of their efforts. A great deal more scholarship is needed to uncover their stories and the stories of the lives of ordinary women who remain invisible in the accounts of classical Islamic historians.

Contemporary Thought and Practice

Modern Shiism offers fascinating examples of how gender-coded symbols and rituals can be used for social, cultural, religious, and political purposes. Women as symbols have always been central to Shiism, in particular, the women in the family of the Prophet Muḥammad, such as his daughter, Fāṭimah, and his granddaughter, Zaynab bint ʿAlī. However, the gendered dimensions of Shīʿī Islam have until recently been understudied. One of the pioneers of scholarship on this topic is Elizabeth Warnock Fernea, beginning with her 1969 book based on her stay in Iraq, titled Guests of the Sheikh. More systematic, book-length studies on women and Shīʿī Islam did not emerge until between 2004 and 2006, beginning with Kamran Scot Aghaie’s 2004 monograph, titled The Martyrs of Karbala: Shiʿi Symbols and Rituals in Modern Iran, and 2005 multi-authored volume, titled The Women of Karbala: Ritual Performances and Symbolic Discourses of Modern Shiʿi Islam. This was followed the next year by three more books in quick succession. Azam Torab’s Performing Islam: Gender and Ritual in Iran, Lara Deeb’s An Enchanted Modern: Gender and Public Piety in Shiʿi Lebanon, and Roxanne Varzi’s Warring Souls: Youth, Media, and Martyrdom in Post-Revolutionary Iran. Since then, there has been Mary Thurlkill’s 2007 publication of Chosen Among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shiʿite Islam, Elizabeth Bucar’s 2011 publication of Creative Conformity: The Feminist Politics of U.S. Catholic and Iranian Shiʿi Women, and Ingvild Flaskerud’s 2012 publication of Visualizing Belief and Piety in Iranian Shiʿism. All of these texts are either focused specifically on questions of gender and Shīʿī Islam, or they contain significant treatments of the gender dynamics of ritual participation and symbolic representations of sacred themes. It should also be mentioned that, since the 1990s or earlier, there have been several important article-length studies focusing on women or gendered aspects of Shīʿī Islam, most notably by Mary Elaine Hegland, who has authored several important articles in which she explores the participation of women in South Asia, Iran, and North America.

One pressing question is why the systematic study of gender-coded symbols and women’s participation in rituals has been so late in coming. This is especially puzzling when one considers that the subject of women in Islam has been a highly studied topic since the 1990s. There are numerous contributing factors. Since all the prophets and imams were male, and the narratives of the battle of Karbala have usually focused on the martyrs at Karbala, including ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib (Ḥusayn) and his male followers on the battlefield, the focus of scholarship has similarly been on males and male symbols. However, beliefs and doctrines associated with prophecy, religious leadership, and sectarianism should not be limited exclusively to the prophets and imams. Likewise, the “event” of Karbala should not be defined as simply the battle itself; rather, it is best understood as including the events leading up to the battle, surrounding the battle (i.e., on the sidelines), and following the battle. Furthermore, these should all be placed within a universalist narrative beginning with the first prophet of Islam, Adam (or according to some theological views, even prior to Adam), and ending with the return of the Mahdi at the end of the temporal world, all of which has historically been included by most Shī‘ī scholars within the discussion of the imamate and the tragedy of Karbala. For example, Fāṭimah’s role as supporter of Muḥammad, and as mother and educator of Ḥasan and Ḥusayn, as well as her role as one of the purified fourteen who suffered persecution for the cause of true Islam (i.e., Shīʿī Islam) cannot be separated from the functions of imams or the Karbala event, even though she was not a prophet or imam herself, and was not present at the battle of Karbala itself (although in many narratives she is brought into the narrative symbolically).

While female characters have always served an important function in Shīʿī pious literatures, such as the “Karbala narratives,” in texts from the pre-modern and early-modern periods, the female characters have most often been used as plot devices or as reflections of male characters, rather than taking on the aspects of fully independent characters in their own right. As a discourse on gender developed in various Shīʿī communities in the mid-twentieth century, Islamic ideals of womanhood were more explicitly articulated and placed in opposition to Western ideals, and, in some ways, in opposition to perceived traditional roles for women. In more recent narratives, female characters have been presented as more self-aware than in earlier representations, as Shīʿī writers have used these symbols to place gender issues at the center of political discourse. In the case of female characters, the modern era marks the first period in which female-gendered symbols were used as part of an anti-Western discourse focusing specifically upon gender roles. Thus, the transformation of the symbolic narrative form reflected a heightened consciousness of issues of gender, thus serving as both activist models and traditionalist models of behavior for Shīʿī women.

The shift in the focus of gender discourse that occurred in the second half of the twentieth century defined gender roles within a context in which it was perceived that westernization from outside combined with moral decay from within the Muslim community were detrimental to Islam and Muslim society. Thus, promoting more active roles for women in a society that nevertheless aimed to promote an Islamist vision of social morality, as conceptualized within gender categories, was increasingly viewed as a primary goal of religious scholars and intellectuals, as well as social and political movements.

There have been countless books published with such titles as “The Garden of Martyrs,” “The Fourteen Purified Ones” or “Fāṭimah Fāṭimah ast,” which present the biographies of the Imams, the Prophets, and Fāṭimah. These sacred personages are portrayed as suffering for the cause of Shīʿī Islam. The importance of Fāṭimah is demonstrated by the large number of poems and Muḥarram chants devoted to her memory. For example, Fāṭimah is given a great deal more coverage than most of the male characters in some narratives, like Va’iz Kashifi’s canonical work, Rawḍāt al-shuhadāʾ. Similarly, Murtiza Mutahhari has portrayed Zaynab’s role as spokesperson for the cause after the massacre as the second half of Ḥusayn’s movement (i.e., not in merely a marginal role). Zaynab’s public criticism of Yazid and his followers is a point that has been stressed in most Shīʿī narratives.

Syed Akbar Hyder has similarly shown the diverse ways in which Zaynab is represented in modern Urdu poems and pious elegies, in particular the elegies of the prominent South Asian Zaker Rashid Torabi, and other poets like Eftekhar Aref, Vahid Akhtar, and the female poet Parvin Shaker. He explores the central role of Zaynab as the “conqueror of Damascus” in the symbolic narratives of Karbala. Hyder’s literary analysis explores the symbolic rhetoric and stylistic devices used in representing Zaynab within the South Asian tradition, and shows how Shīʿī symbols and ideals have been articulated within the modern discourses on gender in South Asia.

Lara Deeb also explores recent changes in Lebanese Shīʿī rituals that have been brought on by many factors, including urbanization, modernization, and the political ascendancy of Shīʿī parties, such as Amal and Hezbollah, over the past decade or so, and the mobilization of the Shīʿīs as a communal group in the 1970s by such leaders as Mūsā al-Ṣadr. In recent years, a new method of ritual performance has emerged alongside the more traditional rituals. These shifts in ritual practice were influenced by trends in Iran. Proponents of these new ritual practices argue that the newer practices are more “authentic” because they are closer to the original intent of the Karbala paradigm. Divergent interpretations of the role of Zaynab in the battle of Karbala are indicative of this discourse. The shift has been toward using Zaynab as a role model for women becoming more directly involved in social and political activism. Women’s rituals have slowly transformed in tandem with the broader trends in ritual observance.

Ḥusayn’s followers, both men and women, were prominent players in the events themselves, and therefore have been important sources of symbolism for Shiism, and have very often been role models to be emulated by both men and women. What has not been sufficiently developed in the scholarship on Shīʿī Islam are the ways in which certain qualities that important personages like Ḥusayn, Fāṭimah, and Zaynab represent have been gender-coded as “male,” “female,” or “gender-neutral.” Using this approach, rather than thinking simplistically about “women role models for women,” also shows how women have at times been talked about in these sources as role models not only for women, but also for men.

Loyalty to the prophets and imams, and courage in defending true Islam, are always central themes that are not gendered in any significant way. A similar case is righteousness and piety, which are universally praised for both men and women. There are countless stories of pious behavior by exemplary males and females. However, fighting and martyrdom are gendered themes. Men are depicted as the ideal fighters and martyrs, while the ideal woman is portrayed as sacrificing her loved ones, rather than becoming a martyr herself. In fact, it is clear from the narratives that women did not belong on the battlefield at all, although they were supposed to lend support nearby. It is generally argued in most sources that it was critically important for women to have accompanied Ḥusayn to Iraq. All of the adult male followers, (except for Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn, who refrained from participating in the combat due to illness) were killed, and their martyrdom is recounted in great detail. The story is different concerning females. While a few women, and in some cases girls, were martyred, they were small in number, and these stories are not recounted in the same degree of detail as those of the male martyrs. One example is the account of the newlyweds Wahb and his wife Haniya. She lost control out of love for her husband and ran out onto the battlefield to help him, but was called back to the tents by Imam Ḥusayn, thus reinforcing the idea that she should not be on the battlefield at all. It happened again and she was eventually martyred. However, in the narratives, the story is typically passed over in merely a few lines. The story of her husband, on the other hand, is given much more elaborate treatment. A similar event took place when Zaynab ran out onto the battlefield, which again resulted in Husayn calling her back to the tent area, with instructions to care for the women, the children, and the wounded. Therefore, it is clear that the ideal of the male fighter and martyr is well developed, whereas the model of the female fighter or martyr is not only underdeveloped, but is, in fact, discouraged in these narratives. Of course, this has obvious implications regarding spiritual equity, according to this conception of Islam, because women are denied access to the ranks of those Muslims who have made the greatest of sacrifice by becoming a martyr, and who will be rewarded accordingly on the Day of Judgment.

While men were the primary speakers before and during the battle, women participants served a critical function of becoming the spokespeople for the cause once they were taken into captivity and taken to Syria. Zaynab, in particular, was central to the preservation and spreading of the message at this point. This is significant in that it clearly develops this role as a responsibility for women and assures the centrality of Zaynab to the story. The role of spokesperson is closely related to the role played in relation to educating men or boys. Again, Zaynab is depicted as the ideal example, as she constantly coached the believers, and, in particular, her own sons, as did Fāṭimah. Another related theme that is also gender-coded as female in Shīʿī symbolism is humiliation through captivity. While Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn was taken captive in the story, the accounts of women being mistreated and humiliated are much more dominant. These stories are recounted in great detail, stressing disrespect of their status, their humiliation, and the general tragic nature of their being taken into captivity. Thus, women play the role of victims.

The depiction of women as mourners of the dead is also a prevalent theme. Although throughout history, men have definitely been presented as mourning the event of death, women have always played a very important (and somewhat different) role in this activity. For example, in teahouse/coffee shop paintings or other graphic representations of the tragedy, women have been used as graphic representations of the tragic loss. Men in such representations have usually been the actual warriors and martyrs, while the women were represented as mourning their loss. Hence, women have become the embodiment of the tragedy by becoming mourners.

A useful way to conceptualize this gendered dichotomy is to think of men as martyrs and women as mourners. It is also worth noting that there were several examples from the 1960s and 1970s of political leaders, such as Ali Sharīʿatī, Murtaza Mutahhari, and Salihi Najafabadi, who used the symbolism of Karbala to motivate the Iranian masses to participate in political rebellions against the shah. Parallel examples can be found in other Shīʿī communities, especially in Lebanon and Iraq. One of the main points of this discourse was that the act of merely mourning the tragedy was to be abandoned in favor of active rebellion. They often referred to the “wrong” practice as being what women commonly do, which is said to be pointless crying, rather than what men should be doing, which is active or armed rebellion. Although this did not necessarily preclude men from also being mourners, women as mourners are typically treated differently and have often been given precedence.

Shīʿī women have always been actively involved in religious rituals, both in women-only rituals and in gender-mixed public rituals. For example, during the Qājār period, wealthy women reinforced their social standing by being generous supporters of rituals themselves, including women’s majalis and sufras (ritual dinners), as well as public rowzeh khanis and taʿzīyahs. One of the best-known female patrons of such performances was Nasir al-Din Shah’s sister, Izzat al-Dowlah, who regularly sponsored very elaborate taʿzīyahs in her home in Sarchishmah. Women-only rituals are still extremely prevalent today in Shīʿī communities.

Elizabeth Warnock Fernea and Basima Q. Bezirgan have called into question the overly simplistic or rigid variants of the dichotomization of “public vs. private space” in Muslim societies. Instead, they propose using a far more nuanced conception that allows for relative fluidity between what would traditionally have been labeled “women’s world” and “men’s world,” observing that men and women are both involved in public rituals. Furthermore, men play a supporting, or “instrumental” role in women-only rituals, while women play a supporting or “instrumental” role in male-dominated rituals. Fernea and Bezirgan further argue that the gender dynamics observed in the rituals are similar to the patterns one would see in other spheres of Middle Eastern society.

Just as Lara Deeb has explored recent changes in Lebanese Shīʿī rituals, Ingvild Flaskerud has explored the gender dynamics of ritual participation, visual representations of sacred themes, and the experiences of women participants in rituals. She analyzes women’s religious rituals in modern Shiraz, especially ritual space, objects, and visual imagery, showing how Shīʿī women participate in rituals in order to achieve salvation and divine intercession in this world and the next. In addition to explaining the origins and dynamics of a distinctively Shīʿī aesthetic tradition, she discusses the iconography of images, space and objects in women’s rituals in Shiraz. In addition, Mary Elaine Hegland has authored several important articles in which she explores the participation of women in South Asia, as well as North America, in terms of gender dynamics, ethnicity, class, and power relationships. For example, in the case of North America, she compares the two major Shīʿī immigrant communities in the United States—Iranians and South Asians. Her comparative analysis demonstrates that the religious practices of these two communities are quite distinct from one another. She argues that South Asian women are far more active in Shīʿī rituals than their Iranian counterparts because of the differing socio-economic backgrounds and demographics of these two communities, along with distinct religious and political experiences.

While Shīʿī symbols and rituals have been used at times to restrict women’s activities and social roles, they have also served as a means for empowering women and have helped to promote a sense of gender-specific identities for women. Although there are various universalistic components to Shīʿī beliefs and practices, the religious experiences of Shīʿī women have generally been extremely diverse and varied, as practices vary based on personal preferences, religious interpretations, popular cultural practices, ideals or norms of gender interaction/segregation, regional customs, education levels, or socio-economic background.

While the state and various social groups (like the ulama and the guilds) have tried to enforce specific ideals of gender interaction, they usually have not been able to completely control the process of ritual performance. Usually, various participants have acted in accordance with their own priorities and ideals. Women in particular have often been very active and innovative in participating in rituals in ways that are consistent with their own interests and ideals, although assuming the role of the “martyr” is normally exclusive to males. One might be tempted to attribute this exclusion of women simply to concepts of female modesty and private vs. public space. However, these women (with the exception of some Arab women from southern Iran and Iraq) also do not typically perform these rituals in private. Furthermore, they are present in large numbers at these events, but serve in different capacities than men. Thus, apart from concern for public modesty, they are deterred by a series of interpretations concerning Shīʿī symbolism, and male-female participation in the rituals.

Although women do not generally participate as symbolic martyrs they do participate in large numbers along with men as “witnesses” and “mourners.” The mourners follow the central procession and have usually been discussed by academics as being observers, rather than participants. However, women are not outside the ritual at all; rather, they are participating in the ritual in a very different capacity from the “martyrs” in the central procession. This practice dates back at least to the Qājār and Ṣafavid periods. Jean Chardin commented that women outdid the men, describing how mourners were “wailing and howling, especially the women, tearing themselves and crying in floods of tears.” Ibn Kathir’s much older account from the Būyid period, al-Bidaya wa al-Nihaya, also seems to allude to a similar practice in tenth century Baghdad.

This role of the “mourner” is different from that of the “martyr,” in that it is not as highly structured, and it is not symbolic of martyrdom itself, but is rather the commemoration of the tragedy in the form of mourning, lending moral support, or bearing witness. Thus, rather than participating directly in the moving procession, or the structured self-flagellation, either by beating their chests or backs, the main activity of the mourners is to witness and mourn the tragedy being reenacted in front of them. As mourners, they generally cry in order to symbolize the tragedy of the event. Finally, they often take part in symbolic self-flagellation, which involves random chest beating, or, in some cases, striking of the hands against the head. These acts are usually performed with no real force at all, and are therefore only symbolic acts of self-mortification. Their main purpose is to ritually mourn and bear witness.

Space is gendered along similar lines, with a parallel being drawn between the battlefield in the original Battle of Karbala, and the space occupied by the central procession of “martyrs” or “penitents” in the Muharram procession. In the original narrative, the imam himself is portrayed as enforcing the gendered space by reprimanding the few women, such as Zaynab and Haniya, who violated the male space of the battlefield. Similarly, men and, in some cases, women, enforce the gendered spatial divisions during the rituals. The enforcement is most rigid in indoor rituals because this space is structured and is therefore more easily controlled. However, in public rituals, as well as indoor rituals performed in large public spaces, women often cross those barriers and claim entrance to the central space whenever possible.

Regardless of whether it is the state, the ulama, or the community organizers who try to promote patterns of behavior, other individuals and groups, and women in particular, have often been efficacious and innovative when participating in the rituals, in accordance with their preferences or ideals. These women have rarely rejected the fundamental symbolic understandings of gender roles as portrayed in the Karbala narrative. Instead, they have worked within the established parameters of the rituals, stretching and modifying the boundaries in subtle ways. The diversity of practices within these rituals demonstrates the inherent flexibility of the symbols and rituals themselves.

Contemporary Thought and Practice

Women’s contemporary engagement in Ṣūfī orders and in Ṣūfī-oriented rituals is obviously as diverse and complex as modern Muslim life at large. However, the conventional understanding of Sufism (taṣawwūf) as Islamic mysticism—with a focus on its orders (sing. ṭarīqah), specific theological discourses of spiritual progress, trust in the guidance of a master (shaykh or murshid), and participation in characteristic rituals (such as wird, dhikr, and sama) under his conduct—does not fully include women’s participation in the wide range of devotional practices and civil engagement connected with Ṣūfī traditions. Women masters (sing. shaykhah) can be formally appointed within an order, and have been throughout history, or they can build their legitimacy to teach, preach, and lead rituals in local authority structures, or as deputies (sing. khalīfah) in relation to women’s matters. Nevertheless, the search for women’s Ṣūfī-related activities in the modern world must be based on a wider understanding of the concept of Sufism itself.

Affiliation with a Ṣūfī order has, by tradition, been a matter for the extended family, and even today fewer women than men take a formal vow of allegiance (bayʿah) with a shaykh, irrespective of whether their ritual life is practiced within the framework of an order or not. The ideal, and idealized, image of this master-disciple relationship, together with legendary history, provides narratives of the importance of women as saints and devotees. Yet in most Muslim societies, women’s Ṣūfī activities have developed in-parallel behind, and spatially separated from, men’s activities. Women who practice Ṣūfī-influenced rituals are not necessarily members of an order and do not even identify themselves as Ṣūfī or dervishes. This ambiguous position has turned out to be as much a strategic advantage as an obstacle. On the one hand, a broad definition of Sufism based on ritual activities includes practices that have no direct connection to Ṣūfī theology, but rather with places invested with narratives of miracles and pious memory. On the other hand, a broad definition risks including too wide a cluster of devotional practices—and thereby confirming stereotypes of Sufism as primarily emotional and expressive. Hence, the term “Ṣūfī-oriented” is used to indicate the historical background of some devotional activities, as well as their location in less formalized social contexts.

Throughout history, Ṣūfī groups have been transnational and, through narratives and legendary history, have connected local communities with sites of pilgrimage and learning. In the age of globalization, transnational contacts have become even more emphasized, albeit in new directions. Processes like urbanization and international migration have not only moved people to new places, but also established new spaces for women to develop spiritually while being less dependent on traditional family ties and religious authorities (Deeb, 2006). Ṣūfī practices have been part of these fusions.

Devotional practices play a definitive role in women’s Ṣūfī-oriented activities, and female lineages pass down authority as well as the local corpuses of repetitive prayers, narratives, and songs that constitute the core structure of many Ṣūfī rituals. Many women have learned the art of reciting the Qurʾān in these ritual contexts. The organized commemoration of the birth of the Prophet Muḥammad (mawlid) is an important genre in this framework and can include exegesis as well as sermons. Local mosques are rarely used for these activities. Rather, preference is for domestic spaces, with the hostess inviting women ritual specialist(s) to recite, sing, lead prayers, and preach to the crowd of guests at hand. The moral reputation of the hostess determines the social status of the meeting, but also important is the fact that in ritual events, learning is passed on to new generations over social boundaries. The repertoire and performing skills of the invited ritual leader(s) lend the rituals legitimacy and preaching authority. Modern Ṣūfī women express their religiosity in a web of ritual genres that consist of interrelated prayer genres, song traditions, and narratives performed at events which have both a religious and social character. Local pilgrim sites at tombs and mausoleums of saints (sing. wali), martyrs (sing. shahid), and other venerated persons are other important ritual arenas. Often repeated is the pattern of male objects of veneration and female visitors.

It is furthermore questionable whether it is correct to represent Ṣūfī terminology in Arabic, as most Ṣūfī women use their vernacular vocabulary to express their religiosity. Furthermore, some of the core regions with a rich Ṣūfī heritage are to be found in the formerly Ottoman lands, the Persian speaking world, South Asia, Indo-Pakistan, and Africa.

Modern living conditions and new lifestyles have affected the position of religious communities worldwide, including Sufism. The trend since the late nineteenth century has been a decreasing influence for formal religious institutions and for individuals a focus on personal choices as the modern mode of religiosity (Howell, 2007; Bruinessen, 2010).

In the wake of ideologically diverse grand-scale modernization projects of the twentieth century—with their mass-education programs, social mobility, and new authority hierarchies—not only have gender relations changed. There has also been a growing gap between the educated elite and the objects of reforms and disciplining efforts. Educated women early on became one of the icons of modernity, and religion was one of the presumed obstacles to emancipation. Hence, it was difficult for women to combine access to new arenas with traditional practices. Both ideological modernists and puritan reformers of Islam have expressed reluctance about local ritual practice, and this reticence has affected the image of Sufism and attitudes toward Ṣūfī practices (Sirriyeh, 1999).

The issue of controversial rituals is strongly connected to modern Islamic reform movements with both radical and liberal inclinations. These rituals need not be evident parts of Ṣūfī theology; rather, they are often embedded in the veneration of local saints and pilgrim routes and they are essential parts of healing rituals connected with tombs and shrines, vows, seeking protection from evil spirits, or foretelling the future by means of various divination rituals. The production and distribution of amulets also belong to this area of contested practices. The conceptual basis for these ceremonies is the blessing or spiritual power (barakah) that emanates from living persons or tombs of saints. An equally important part of this conceptual basis and its instrumentalization is the transmission of the blessing through tactile touching of the coffin of the venerated, water from a nearby fountain, and sweets and artifacts that are distributed far beyond the pilgrim site by visitors who thus bring the blessing back home as a gift and a memory.

Women‘s Engagement in Ṣūfī Activities.

For portraying contemporary Ṣūfī activities of women in terms of expressive genres, ritual leadership, and theological authority, there are many cases to choose from. The following four have been selected to indicate regional variation, the complexity of modernity, and different aspects of the theme of women and Sufism in the modern era.

First, Rebel and Saint (1994), Julia Clancy-Smith’s study of resistance in colonial Algeria, brings to attention an example of formal female leadership within a local branch of a Ṣūfī order. In the absence of sons, Zaynab succeeded her father as the local shaykh in 1897, but not without opposition from other male relatives. This recognition was an acceptance of the daughter as part of the legitimate chain of authority (silsila). This inherited spiritual blessing (barakah), combined with her personal qualifications as a well-versed woman of respectable conduct, made her the legitimate leader of the local lodge (zawiya). The unusual condition that she remain unmarried to devote her time to pious and charitable deeds added to her status as a revered woman. Due to her close relation to her father, Zaynab, without any formal education, had nevertheless acquired sufficient religious learning (ilm) and was able to successfully direct the zawiya as a hub of cultural resistance against the French. After her early death in 1904, both male and female followers continued to venerate her with an annual pilgrimage (ziyārah) to her mausoleum. Clancy-Smith’s (1994) study of Zaynab’s accomplishments points to women’s religious engagement as an important tool in anticolonial activities as well as to the possibility of finding documents that illuminate Ṣūfī women’s leadership in early modernity.

Second, Razia Sultanova (2011) presents Uzbek musical and narrative traditions in a long-term perspective with a special emphasis on how women teachers (sing. otin) integrate this highly Ṣūfī-flavored canon in an increasing conservative trend. The changes at all societal levels in post-Soviet Uzbekistan greatly affect contemporary practices, and the cases of individual otins highlight the impact of politics on Ṣūfī activities, no matter how emotional they are. After a long period of repression of religion in general, the otins are again more known to the general public, though they only perform in mono-gendered environments. The recitations that otins conduct at life cycle rituals, such as celebrations of holidays, commemoration of the dead, and praising martyrs, are part of a poetic web related to devotional gatherings. Classic Ṣūfī ceremonies like the repetitive dhikr prayer, also commonly performed outside the orders, are part of this larger context. The textual, musical, and rhythmical aspects of the repertoire are transmitted to apprentices, who meet with elder women for successive training, nowadays sometimes with formal Islamic training.

Third, in urban areas, new fellowships are developing as forums for maintaining Ṣūfī rituals, but not necessarily within the framework of the established orders. Catharina Raudvere (2002) shows, in an example from Istanbul, how Ṣūfī activities in semipublic spaces build on both local tradition and on younger women’s ability to adapt to social and political changes. By establishing an endowment (waqf), the women in this case make use of a widely respected form for directing money to stipulated purposes. This framework makes for a more formalized organization that can go beyond domestic spaces and the conventional spheres of orders in the neighborhood. Women in leading positions combine traditional Islamic learning with secular education to navigate late modern local Ṣūfī life. By avoiding classic Ṣūfī terminology for ritual functions and leadership, the women of the endowment guard against being regarded as competitors with the local orders. The Ṣūfī inclinations of the group are manifested in practice rather than in theological discourse. They organize dhikr and mawlid events, as well as social-welfare commitments to those in need, along with basic Islamic education classes and preaching in local mosques. Their legitimacy to educate, preach, and lead rituals comes from a deceased male teacher (hoca). The group defines itself as keepers of the hoca‘s instructions by editing and interpreting his recorded sermons, which emphasize a combination of spiritual knowledge (marifet) and welfare work (hizmet). This background male authority is transmitted into intense women’s activities that serve as a platform for comments on contemporary issues.

Fourth, the colonial representation of Muslim women as secluded and passive has emphasized their absences from communal ritual events and has overshadowed the fact that women do assume authority as leaders within orders. Kelly Pemberton’s (2010) study shows, with examples from women’s activities at Ṣūfī shrines in India, how family bonds, social gifts to lead, and pious qualifications constitute the main paths to local authority, but within domains other than those of men. Pir, the Urdu honorary title for a Ṣūfī master, can also be applied to a woman, although not as a community leader but most often as a ritual specialist or healer for women.

Women’s musical performances are an integral part of Ṣūfī activities activities in mixed-gender spaces in Pemberton’s examples. Yet women are socialized into tacit knowledge about the precise limits for women’s conduct and presence in the community. The commemoration of a saint or founder of an order (urs) at an anniversary day is a significant ritual for South Asian Islam. These are major public events that would not function without the contribution of women.

International Migration, Globalization and New Conditions for Ṣūfī Groups.

Internal and international migration, caused by political conflicts or economic difficulties, has created environments where different lifestyles and moral standards come into contact. These are also the spaces where many contemporary Ṣūfī groups operate.

Most Muslim migration takes place within the Muslim world, but diaspora connotes shifts from Muslim majority societies to minority situations. Sometimes Ṣūfī groups can even find themselves to be a minority within the minority. Ṣūfī activities in diaspora are, in general, less visible than those organized by formal Muslim communities. In diaspora, Ṣūfī fellowships are more rarely in contact with local authorities and more in alliance with their transnational networks.

Most first-generation migrants nevertheless define their activities in ethnic or national frameworks, whereas their descendants see other opportunities (Werbner, 2003). Diasporic Ṣūfī life is thus a generational issue as much as a question of gender. Young people seem more open to fusing traditions and constructing ritual spaces relevant to new circumstances. Between generations, a shift can be noted from ethnic community practices to marked choices of theological and ritual preferences.

Ṣūfī traditions can play a double, if not contradictory, role in diaspora. On the one hand, they confirm ethnic/national belonging and give structure to diasporic ritual life. On the other, Ṣūfī traditions can offer more liberal modes of pious expression and links to Muslim identity without necessarily accepting the ethnically defined religious authorities. This latter tendency has been attractive to many converts. For several decades new branches of the established orders, especially among the Naqshbandi, appeared on the global Ṣūfī scene, sometimes discussed under the disputed label “neo-Ṣūfīs.” With transnational communications conveying authority and charisma, their prolific leaders reach new crowds such as the Muslim urban middle class and converts. In local environments, the neo-Ṣūfī activities can be very open to new forms of spirituality and cultural expression such as rap, Internet communities, and martial arts. The fusion between diasporic groups can be creative as well as a source of conflict.

Sufism is sometimes a non-Muslim’s first encounter with the practice of Islam and it has been an important vehicle for the spread of Islam throughout history. This remains true today. Sufism is already part of Western intellectual history and gives rise to artistic expressions that are easy to access—not the least via the Internet. The border zone between converts to Sufism and New Age spirituality, as well as the even broader scope of healing and mindfulness, are significant features in the kaleidoscope of contemporary Ṣūfī representation. This should not be read, however, to mean that contemporary Sufism in general represents a liberal theological agenda. Most Ṣūfī groups are conservative in social and moral matters. Such attitudes to a great extent define the spaces for and the limits of women’s activities, and yet prove attractive to new followers.

Religion in the twenty-first century, with its emphasis on personal preferences and individual religiosity, has pushed for a transition from collective identities to more individualized choices. Ṣūfī milieus offer a variety of rituals and forms of piety to be performed privately or as a community. By tradition, women have been given leading and guiding roles embedded in local hierarchies and limited to mono-gendered spaces. Modernity has opened up educational and professional achievements as new sources of authority to meet a greater variety of religious counterparts, but many Ṣūfī orders are also part of the increasingly conservative Islamic trends worldwide.

Women

The role of women in Muslim society has changed significantly in the centuries since Islam began in Arabia in the early 600s. Their position has varied with shifting social, economic, and political circumstances. Although Islam regards men and women as moral equals in the sight of God, women have not had equal access to many areas of Islamic life.

Women in Islamic Society

Historically, Muslim women have not been treated as men’s equals. Certain rulers and administrators and most legal scholars imposed a system of inequality, which they justified by their interpretations of the Qur’an and the traditions of the Prophet. Colonial authorities challenged these views, and their Western notions of the rightful position of women in society took hold among some segments of the Muslim population. Since much of the Islamic world became independent in the mid-1900s, however, women have been caught between traditionalists and reformers as they compete for dominance in Islamic society.

Making Some Gains.

Before the rise of Islam in the early 600s, Arabs lived in a traditional, patriarchal (male-dominated) society. Men regarded women as their property, to be married or divorced at will. No limitations on polygyny existed. Women generally did not have a say in the choice of a husband. Once married, they lacked financial security, as the groom’s dowry was paid directly to the bride’s male relatives. Female infanticide (the killing of baby girls at birth) was common.

Female athletes from Afghanistan take part in the opening ceremony of the Third Muslim Women Games in Tehran, Iran, in 2001. 



Vahid Salemi/AP Photo

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With Islam, the status of women improved considerably. The Qur’an and the sunnah emphasized the spiritual equality of all Muslims. Islamic law recognized a woman’s right to choose her own marriage partner, and it set limits on the practice of polygyny. A man could have as many as four wives, if he could provide for and treat them equally. Islamic regulations also defined marriage as a contract between a man and a woman or a man and a woman’s legal guardian (wali). They also required the groom to pay the dowry directly to the bride. In addition, the Qur’an and sunnah specified that women are entitled to inherit wealth and that married women should be able to control their own money and property. These sources further stated that husbands must support their wives financially during marriage and for a certain period after a divorce.

Although Islamic law extended some rights to women and limited the privileges of men, it did not change the dominant position of men in Muslim society. For example, the Qur’an requires women to be obedient to their husbands, and it describes men as a degree higher than women in rights and responsibilities. The scriptures also permit men to divorce their wives without cause and deny women custody rights over children who have reached a certain age.

Experiencing Some Losses.

Historical evidence indicates that women contributed significantly to the early development of the Muslim community. Women were the first to learn of Muhammad’s initial revelation. They later played an important role in the process of collecting all the revelations from both written and oral sources into a single, authoritative text. Women were entrusted with vital secrets, including the location of Muhammad’s hiding place when he was being persecuted and his plans to attack Mecca. The Prophet often consulted women and considered their opinions seriously. His first wife, Khadija, was his chief adviser as well as his first and foremost supporter. His third and youngest wife, A’ishah, was a well-known authority in medicine, history, and rhetoric. At Muhammad’s death, the distinguished women of the community were consulted about the choice of his successor. Caliph Umar ibn al-Khattab (ruled 634 – 644 ) appointed women to serve as officials in the market of Medina.

Islam spread well beyond the Arabian Peninsula in the years after the Prophet’s death. In the 600s, Arab-Muslim armies captured territory that had been part of the Byzantine and Persian Empires. The Muslim community gradually incorporated the values and customs of the conquered peoples, including the practice of veiling and secluding women. Veiling referred to the use of garments to cover the head, face, and body. Seclusion involved limiting women to the company of other women and close male relatives in their home or confining them in separate female living quarters. Although Islamic sources do not specifically require veiling and seclusion, some Muslims have used passages from the Qur’an and sunnah to justify these practices.

Men and women had distinct, complementary roles in Muslim societies. The husband’s primary responsibility was to support and protect the family. The wife cared for and disciplined the children and maintained the home. Although Islamic law taught that the husband and wife were equal before God, women were subordinate to men. Nonetheless, women exercised considerable influence in family and social life.

Breaking With Tradition.

During the 1800s, most Islamic societies came under the control of European powers. Colonial rule brought Western ideas and values about women, marriage, and the family to the Muslim world. Intellectuals, professionals, and civil servants began to question legal and social restrictions on women, especially those related to education, seclusion, heavy veiling, polygyny, and slavery. These developments created a sense of insecurity among the general population. Muslim men tended to react by observing traditional customs and rituals more strictly.

Demands for reform led to the establishment of primary and secondary schools for girls, and in such places as the Ottoman Empire, Egypt, and Iran, universities were opened to women. Womenfounded newspapers and educational and charitable organizations. They also joined student and nationalist movements.

In the early 1900s, the governments of newly independent Muslim states such as Turkey took steps to modernize the role of women. The Turkish government adopted a new family law that discouraged polygyny and gave women the right to obtain divorces. Turkish women gained the right to vote in municipal and national elections in the 1930s. Iranian leader Reza Shah Pahlavi outlawed the practice of veiling. In general, the tradition of female seclusion declined dramatically. During the 1950s, Egyptian women entered politics and were elected to public office. Women also began to earn advanced academic degrees and to work in professions previously closed to them. In most countries, however, new freedoms and opportunities in education and employment benefited only upper and middle classes in urban areas.

Several factors limited these developments. More traditional Muslims regarded the social and political changes as anti-Islamic and a threat to the cultural value of male superiority. Concerns about a lack of employment opportunities among men fueled arguments that women should stay at home in their traditional roles of wives and mothers. Islamic states tried to balance the conflicting demands of women and traditional Muslims by making cautious reforms.

Debate continues over the appropriate role of women in the community. Muslim societies regard women as key to social continuity and the preservation of the family and culture. They see the status of women as directly connected to maintaining or reforming tradition. The role of women may also be a means of defining national identity. For example, some of the Gulf states and other conservative rural societies follow the practice of secluding women from unrelated men. Although Muslim governments have promoted education for both boys and girls as a way of achieving economic growth, the percentage of girls enrolled in schools in developing countries remains relatively low.

Poor economic and political conditions in some Muslim countries have forced women to become more involved in the outside world. Factors such as war and labor migration have increased the number of households headed by females. Economic necessity has led women to seek work outside the home, usually in low-paid, unskilled jobs.

Many Muslim women have become active in grassroots organizations, development projects, charitable associations, and social services. During the 1990s, women achieved positions of leadership in some parts of the Muslim world. Benazir Bhutto of Pakistan, Tansu Ciller of Turkey, and Shaykh Hasina and Khaleda Zia of Bangladesh served as prime ministers in their respec-tive countries.

Women and Islamic Religious Life

The Qur’an requires the same religious duties of men and women and promises them the same spiritual rewards. Nevertheless, certain factors have tended to restrict women’s involvement in Islamic religious life. These include social customs, lack of education, and ideas about ritual purity. The specific limitations on the participation of Muslim women in religious matters and the ways that they have responded to these restrictions have varied across the Islamic world. Furthermore, during the 1900s, the changing role of women in society created new opportunities for women in the religious sphere as well.

Different Standards.

Muslim women must observe the Pillars of Islam, including praying five times each day, fasting during the holy month of Ramadan, and—like every Muslim who is physically and financially able—making at least one pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca. However, women may not pray, fast, or touch the Qur’an during menstruation or for a period following childbirth. During these times, they are considered to be ritually impure. In addition, women who are pregnant or nursing are exempt from fasting during Ramadan. Nonetheless, they must make up the days that they have missed at a later time.

Ideas about whether women should pray in mosques or in their homes have changed over time. According to the hadith, the Prophet commanded men not to bar women from public worship. In the days of Muhammad, women performed the morning prayer at the mosque, although they were required to line up in rows behind the men. They left the mosque before the men, preventing, at least in theory, any contact between the sexes. During the caliphate of Umar ibn al-Khattab, women had to pray in a separate room of the mosque with their own imam. By about 700, Muslim religious authorities completely banned women from mosques. They justified their reversal of the Prophet’s order by claiming that public spaces were unsafe for women.

Studies from a number of different Islamic countries indicate that the presence of women in public is considered to be a source of temptation and conflict. Therefore, keeping them out of mosques is regarded as necessary to preserve the holiness and dignity of religious ceremonies. For centuries, mosques were primarily male spaces. The Islamic resurgence that has swept the Muslim world since the 1970s has modified these attitudes. Recently, Muslims have constructed mosques that provide a separate space for women. However, the women often remain isolated in areas where they cannot see the preacher, which reinforces their marginal role in mosques.

Although almost always separated during Muslim religious observances, men and women interact on the pilgrimage to Mecca. Moreover, while performing the hajj, women do not have to cover their faces. Males and females may also interact during celebrations at the shrines of saints.

Education.

Muslim women have always played a role in the spread of religious knowledge. Muhammad’s wife A’ishah was an important source of the hadith. In fact, he reportedly told his followers they would receive half their religion from her. Muhammad himself taught religious lessons to women.

Throughout Islamic history, some daughters of wealthy families received private education in the home. More often, however, women were excluded from formal education, and illiteracy was common. During the 1800s, schools for girls opened in many Muslim countries. They received instruction in such subjects as crafts and housekeeping. Since the independence of the Muslim world in the mid-1900s, both girls and boys have had access to secular education. Nonetheless, religious instruction for girls and women has lagged behind that of boys and men. Occasionally, women have gained recognition as Islamic scholars for their writings, not for obtaining a degree in Islamic studies. Because many Muslims do not believe that women have the capacity to teach men, even women who have religious training may only serve the needs of other females.

Sufism and Shrines.

Unlike the legal and scholarly dimensions of Islamic religious life, which depend on literacy and formal education, Sufism involves various physical and spiritual disciplines. Traditionally, Sufi shaykhs were effective religious teachers in Muslim society as well as popular counselors and healers. Not surprisingly, therefore, women have been relatively more involved in the Sufi movement than other areas of Islam. The most famous Sufi woman, Rabiah al-Adawiyah (died 801 ), wrote poems of love for God that have continued to inspire mystics to the present day. She is not unique in the Sufi tradition. Javad Nurbakhsh has translated into English the biographies of some 124 Sufi women.

Some Sufi shaykhs in the Mamluk dynasty ( 1250 – 1517 ) and Ottoman Empire admitted women into their orders. Despite the general acceptance of women within Sufism, however, their participation in the orders and in dhikr, the distinctive Sufi ritual chanting of the names of God, has been controversial. Moreover, some Sufi men have regarded women as obstacles to their spiritual life. Today Moroccan and Algerian orders frequently have separate women’s groups with female leadership. Despite an official ban on female membership in Egyptian Sufi brotherhoods, women continue to participate in many of its orders.

Unlike mosques, which are usually regarded as male spaces, shrines dedicated to Muslim saints have traditionally been open to women. Some Muslims, mostly Sufis, believe that saints are individuals who can intercede with God on behalf of the faithful and perform miracles. After their deaths, their tombs often become places of worship and refuge for their followers and others. Muslim women frequently visit these shrines, some of which address women’s concerns, such as fertility. Visiting the shrines of saints has been an essential part of the religious lives of Muslim women all over the world.

Religious reformers have criticized saint veneration as un-Islamic. They argue that women need formal religious education so they can become part of orthodox Islam once again. Throughout the 1900s, independently founded voluntary associations assumed the task of providing such instruction. These organizations also offered courses in literacy and crafts. Many government-operated mosques also provided religious lessons to women. See also A’ishah ; Clothing; Divorce; Education; Family; Hijab; Khadija ; Law; Marriage; Muhammad ; Saints and Sainthood; Sexuality; Shrine; Sufism; Women and Reform; Women in the Qur’an.

• The Spirit World

Muslim women in many parts of Africa participate in spirit cults. Such cults are based on the belief that angry spirits cause both physical and emotional illness. Cult followers host feasts and perform special dances in an attempt to calm the spirit in question and to obtain a cure. Women may serve as officers of the cults or as members of their musical troupes. Although spirit cults are not Islamic in origin, the Qur’an describes the existence of spirits and their effects on humans. As a result of such teachings, these cults have spread in some parts of the Islamic world.

Women and Social Reform

[This entry contains five subentries:

• AN OVERVIEW
• SOCIAL REFORM IN THE MIDDLE EAST
• SOCIAL REFORM IN NORTH AFRICA
• SOCIAL REFORM IN SOUTH ASIA
• SOCIAL REFORM IN SOUTHEAST ASIA]

Overview

The last two decades have witnessed the intensification of economic and political crises in the Middle East region. The change from state led development to privatization has contributed to severe economic crises manifested in the spread of poverty and large-scale unemployment, especially among the young men and women of the working- and middle-classes. The Islamist oppositional movements used these societal contexts to underline the failures of the nation-state and to represent themselves as reformers offering solutions to these complex problems. The result was a polarization between Islamism and nationalism, as distinct social projects, bases of gender identity, and representatives of dominant political forces in postcolonial societies. When these Islamist political movements achieved electoral gains, their successes provoked violent political reactions from many states, leading to the weakening of both forces. The political outcomes of the struggles between the state and its Islamist opponents during the last two decades has increasingly underlined the authoritarian character of national states, which continued to monopolize political power, eroding their national basis of legitimacy as it governs societies characterized by glaring inequalities between classes, genders, and ethnic groups. Similarly, the political and organizational strengths of the Islamist groups have been equally weakened, though their influence over the social, cultural, and political debate has not diminished. The events of September 11, 2001, and the consequent war on terrorism, which pitted the United States against al-Qaʿida, provided new sources of strength for local state allies and reinforced old discourses with new ones.

Economic and Political Crises and the Reform of Gender Inequalities.

During the 1990s, as the economic crises in the Middle East intensified, privatization decreased the state’s role in the provision of vital social services including education, health, and most importantly, employment. According to the 2002 Arab Human Development Report, one of the significant results of this structural adjustment process was the regional feminization of poverty and unemployment, exacerbating gender inequality. In Egypt and Bahrain, female unemployment was three times as high as that of men and in Morocco, Syria, Jordan, and Oman, it was twice as high (Moghadam, 2004). In response, Islamist oppositional groups and many of the nation-states in the region encouraged women to return home. This strategy was not feasible for female-headed households, whose large presence was documented in Egypt, Lebanon, Yemen, the West Bank and Gaza, and for working-class families whose women had increased their participation in the informal sector (ESCWA, 1996, p. 32).

In a region where women’s literacy more than doubled between 1970 and 1985, women still represented two-thirds of the illiterate population. Since 1985, total state expenditures on education in Arab states progressively declined, with serious consequences on the rate of working-class girls who had to drop out of school to assist with housework, as their mothers entered the work force.

In the face of these acute crises, the Islamists’ have attempted to respond to the grievances of groups who have been excluded in the new privatized economies. They were rewarded by electoral and political gains in Tunisia and Egypt (in the late 1980s) and Algeria (in the early 1990s), leading these states to move against them—representing them as “terrorists” who posed a security threat to the political stability of these societies and continued modernization. In the section that follows, a study of Egypt, Tunisia, and Algeria shows how, in violent confrontations between the nation-state and its Islamist opponents, both sides targeted women, used the gender roles of women to score political points against each other, and provoked different responses from women.

Egypt.

In Egypt, the state and the national/secular political elites accused the Islamists of undermining the long history of Egyptian nationalist modernization/enlightenment by emphasizing a return to traditionalism, represented by the emphasis they placed on women’s adherence to the Islamic mode of dress. Nawāl al-Saʿdāwī, the well-known feminist, offered a one-sided position with regard to ḥijāb, describing the Muslim women’s head-cover adopted by many women as a sign of closemindedness and as a barrier to the full use of their reason. Others represented women’s embrace of Islamism typified by the Islamic mode of dress as undermining the nationalist discourse on the liberation of women, developed by early male reformers like Qāsim Amīn, with its emphasis on education and participation in public life. They argued that the discussion of women’s roles in society was a “civil,” not a religious matter. Finally, they stated the familiar argument that the liberation of Arab women is not inseparable from the liberation of Arab men and the liberation of society itself. This articulation pointed out the nationalization of the concerns of women by putting them in the service of the broader social and political project of the modern state.

In response, the Islamists accused the state and its elites of sacrificing the Islamic character of society in the name of modernization, without being able to meet the developmental needs of the unemployed younger generations of men and women, and the underdeveloped southern region of the country. Some Islamist women concurred with this analysis; they described their decisions to embrace the Islamist project as a means of grounding Islamic principles in the construction of daily life and developing an Islamic sensibility that is more concrete than abstract. Prominent Islamist women, theorizing on the importance of contemporary Islamism as an alternative to Western feminism, offered revisionist views of Egyptian women’s history. Zaynab al-Ghazālī charged early Egyptian feminists with contributing to the alienation of Muslim women from their religion that provided them with a dignified status and important role models. Nationalists turned their backs on the Islamic tradition, which Islamist women sought to extract more balanced interpretations of Islam’s support of women’s rights. Similarly, Heba Ra’uf Ezzat rejected feminism as a Western import that showed a limited appreciation for the important roles that Muslim women played in the family. Her critique focused on how feminism promised women individual liberty in exchange for a weakened family unit, thus depriving women of an important source of social protection and support (Ezzat, 2000).

Tunisia.

In Tunisia, the Islamists used the economic crisis to attract the support of young men and women with limited social mobility. In addition to their economic critique of state policies, the Islamists represented the free mixing of men and women in universities, Western modes of dress, and the violation of religious rules as the “manifestations of moral delinquency” (Ismail, 2003, p. 143). The government of Zayn al-ʿābidīn bin ʿAlī and its Islamist opponents quickly focused on the Personal Status Law, the centerpiece of the national modernizing project, in their attempts to subvert each other’s political discourses. The Islamists saw it as a deviation from Islamic tradition, and the state saw it as part of the National Pact with which political parties needed to abide (Hatem, 1995, p. 198).

In response, the Islamists’ called their new political party al-Nahḍah, (the Renaissance), appropriating the key concept of Arab modernity to describe their political project. Bin ʿAlī responded by posing a national challenge to the Islamists in the form of a new National Pact: “Nothing justifies the creation of a group as long as it has not defined the type of society that it commends, clarified its position towards a certain number of civilizational issues and committed itself to respect the equality of rights and duties of citizens, men and women as well as the principles of tolerance and of the liberty of conscious” (Hatem, 1995, p. 198). Also in the Pact, the state emphasized Tunisia’s “Arabo-Islamic identity,” protecting itself against Islamist critics and appropriating a key source of their appeal. While it claimed that the Islamists did not appreciate the civilizational principles of gender equality instituted by the personal status code, it also attempted to underline its own commitment to the Arabo-Islamic identity that provided them with a basis of national appeal. Both the Islamists and the nationalists used gender to serve their own political interests.

Tunisian women were split in their support of these different political forces and their gender agendas. The official Union of Tunisian Women and relatively independent women’s groups supported the state as the defender of the rights of women. In contrast, Islamist women used the Islamic mode of dress to fight sexism in the public arena, to criticize their families’ practice of religion, and to develop support networks (Ismail, p. 143). With the elimination of the Islamist threat, the state tightened its control of the gender agenda and emerging feminist groups, but it also began an undeclared campaign of discrimination against Islamist women. They were warned to give up their mode of dress if they wanted to keep their jobs, and those who worked for the state and resisted faced the termination of their employment.

Algeria.

The confrontation between the state and its Islamist opponents was the most bloody in Algeria; it resulted in a prolonged civil war that claimed the lives of many men and women. Consequently, the pitch of the polemical exchanges between Islamists and nationalists was unparalleled in the region. Because some of the nationalists and feminists had internalized the French cultural frame of reference, they addressed themselves largely to French and Western audiences. For example, Khalida Messaoudi wrote, “the hijab is like a yellow star for women, the first step towards their physical elimination” (Burgat, 2003, p. 140). Similarly, Rachid Mimouni suggested, “a women to an Islamist is like a Jew to a Nazi” (Burgat, 2003, p. 140). This minority view clearly addressed a Western audience that privileged the holocaust as an example of genocidal oppression that had great currency in the West. It said nothing about what Algerian women who took on the Islamic mode of dress thought and what the Islamic system of representation meant to them.

The views of Algerian Islamist women were not very different from those expressed by Tunisians and Egyptians. Some saw the ḥijāb as providing them with equality before God, greater public freedom, the basis of bodily integrity in crowded social facilities, and greater individuality (Burgat, 2003, pp. 142–143). Algerian women researchers also pointed out that there were few differences between the aspirations of Islamist and non-Islamist women for education, work, and public participation (Burgat, 2003).

Iran and Turkey.

The non-Arab cases of Iran’s Islamic republic and Turkey’s secular republic offered contrasting perspectives on the possibilities of reform under Islamist governments. During the last two decades, women and young people in Iran were able to use the republican principles of their religious government to back the election of president Mohamed Khatami as the representative of a reformist segment of the clerical establishment. As part of this reformist trend, many women were elected to parliament, and upon his election Khatami expressed his gratitude to women as a constituency by appointing a woman vice president. The new opening encouraged the emergence of a new alliance between feminist and Islamist women that pushed for gender agendas that supported more rights for women within and outside the family. Equally important, in women’s publications and within some segments of the clerical establishment, debates began about how the creation of the Islamic republic pressured the clerics of the religion to develop interpretations that were friendly to women, to rebut Western claims that Islam was unfair to women and/or inhospitable to their rights.

The conservative clerical establishment in Iran was successful in blocking the efforts of the reformists in parliament and disqualifying their candidates in the elections of 2004; this led to the election of the conservative Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. His government returned to the restrictive social environment and the strict surveillance of women, in an effort to conceal the economic and political failures of the new regime.

The recent history of the secular republic in Turkey, whose commitment to nationalist modernization made it a regional role model for women-friendly policies, reveals a new kind of openness. It has responded to the rise of Islamism and its spread among women in surprisingly repressive ways. Using the commitment to secularism as a stick, the republican state passed administrative laws in the late 1980s that discriminated against religious women who wore headscarves, by denying them the right to education, work, and political participation. The result was the familiar split observed in many Arab states, between women who supported the nationalist discourses on modernization and those who embraced Islamism. Interestingly, despite the important role that women played in the election of Islamist political parties, once elected, they did not take steps to politically reverse the discriminatory laws that prevented their women supporters from exercising their rights of citizenship. This showed the extent to which Islamist governments were similar to secularist governments in subordinating women’s interests to general political interests, which in this case was to demonstrate to the secularist political establishment and its public their willingness to operate within the set secular rules.

September 11 and Gender Discourses.

The events of September 11, 2001 have injected international issues into the debate about the future of Muslim women and their societies. It imported the “clash of civilization” thesis to characterize the struggle between the West (and its secular state allies in the region) and Islam/Islamism as a new source of global conflict. The neo-conservative theorists of the war on terrorism borrowed, without the benefit of critical analysis, the perspectives of the Middle Eastern states on Islamism to characterize al-Qaʿida as a security threat that could be eliminated through the use of force—to overthrow the Taliban regime in Afghanistan and that of Saddam Hussein in Iraq—to improve the prospects of democratization of Islamic societies and improve women’s rights. United States intervention in Afghanistan and Iraq has not improved the conditions of women. The war exacerbated the ethnic divisions among the Shīʿīites, the Sunnīs, and the Kurds, and created a new space for conservative religious discourse on the rights of women. The war has also increased the burdens of women in taking care of their families. In addition, it gave al-Qaʿida a regional stage from which it could attempt to strengthen the Islamists as defenders of Islamic lands against the new crusaders.

Women and Reform

The role and status of women is one of the most controversial topics in the Islamic world. Many Muslims consider women the culture bearers of their societies and view their status as a reflection and source of national identity. As a result, they tend to emphasize the traditional roles of women as wives and mothers. However, women in the Islamic world play other roles in public life and in a variety of professions, including business, medicine, education, government, law, and politics. Women have even served as prime ministers in Pakistan, Bangladesh, Turkey, and Indonesia. Efforts to improve the status of women in the Muslim world and to expand their rights and opportunities began in the 1800s.

Women‘s Role in Islamic Society

Although Islam proclaims that all human beings are equal morally and have the same religious duties, men and women have not always been placed on equal legal footing. The introduction of Islam brought important reforms that improved the status of women, such as prohibiting female infanticide and recognizing women as property owners and legal partners entitled to engage in contractual agreements. Islam also guaranteed women certain financial and inheritance rights in marriage and offered special protection to widows and orphans. However, despite these improvements, Muslim societies remained largely patriarchal, and women tended to be subordinate to male family members who did not always respect their legal rights.

Pre-Colonial Status of Women.

Women have played an active role in public life in Islamic societies since the beginning of Islam. During Muhammad’s lifetime, women prayed next to men in the mosque, provided sanctuary to men, owned and sold property, engaged in commercial transactions, pursued education, and worked as teachers. Under the early caliphs, women served as officials and legal experts.

In 1999 Muslim women in Jakarta, Indonesia, demanded more rights in the upcoming elections. The poster at right calls for officials to take action against election violators. 



Bullit Marquez/AP Photo

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Still, the legal enforcement of women’s rights varied in different times and places in the Islamic world. By the 1700s, a number of Muslim scholars began reform movements to revive early Islamic practices and values. For example, Muhammad ibn Abd al-Wahhab of Arabia (died 1791 ) included the revival of women’s rights in such areas as marriage, divorce, and inheritance in his reform program. The court records of the Ottoman Empire show that women were aware of their marriage, divorce, and inheritance rights under Islamic law and used the courts to enforce them. Finally, throughout Islamic history, the practices of veiling, seclusion, and polygyny—often considered hallmarks of the lives of Muslim women—were neither uniformly required nor observed.

Changes After Colonization.

Starting in the mid-1800s, European colonialism brought far-ranging change to the legal systems of the Muslim world. Secular courts were established to handle criminal and civil cases. Only family law came under the jurisdiction of the shari’ah courts, where Islamic law remained in force.

Islamic reformers called for expanded rights for women within Islam, focusing on education and employment for women as the best means of bringing the Islamic world into the modern era. In Egypt, Muhammad Abduh ( 1849 – 1905 ) and other modernists worked for legal and theological reforms, such as outlawing polygyny. Others, such as Qasim Amin, addressed social issues. Amin identified the oppression of Muslim women as the major cause for the decline and deterioration of Muslim families and societies. He pointed to social practices like arranged marriages, the wife’s practical inability to initiate divorce, and the husband’s unlimited right to divorce as sources of bondage for women. Some activists, such as Egypt’s Huda Sharawi ( 1879 – 1947 ), pressed for reforms and expansion of women’s rights along Western models.

Egypt led the Muslim world in introducing legal reforms related to marriage, divorce, and inheritance. The Egyptian Code of Organization and Procedure for Shari’ah Courts of 1897 required written documentation in marriage, divorce, and certain inheritance claims. In 1923 Egypt also addressed the issue of child marriages by prohibiting marriage certificates for brides under the age of 16 and grooms under the age of 18. Although these reforms protected women’s rights through documentation, they remained Islamic in orientation.

A more secular approach can be found in Turkey and Iran. Turkey abolished Islamic law altogether and introduced secular, Western-style law in 1924 . Turkey also outlawed the veil and insisted that all Turkish citizens wear Western dress. In Iran, the shah outlawed the veil and encouraged giving women access to schools, the workplace, and other public areas.

Following independence in the mid-1900s, most Muslim countries introduced plans for modernization and development, including the expansion of education and employment for both men and women. Even such traditional countries as Saudi Arabia routinely sent both male and female students to the West to study engineering, medicine, computer technology, and business in order to develop their home countries and provide services.

When the economic boom of the modernization era ended, however, many conservatives called for women to return to their traditional roles at home and leave the jobs for men. Although many professional women have continued to work by choice, economic necessity has often kept less skilled women at work. In some cases, the income of both husband and wife is needed to provide for the family. In other cases, women serve as heads of household in the absence of a male provider due to divorce, widowhood, the husband’s work abroad, or active military service. The importance of the wife’s income for family survival has led some women to argue that their rights in marriage should be expanded to reflect their increased family responsibilities. They have also maintained that, in cases of divorce, the length of the marriage and the wife’s contribution to the household and the husband’s career should be taken into account in the divorce settlement.

Reform in the Muslim World

In recent years, most Muslim countries have passed some legislation reforming the application of Islamic law to such issues as marriage, divorce, and inheritance. Although Islamic law remains largely in force, it reflects a modern understanding of the important role women play in the family.

The Middle East.

In the Middle East, reforms related to women’s issues have focused largely on family law. All countries have set minimum ages for marriage. Legislation has granted a woman the right to establish certain conditions in her marriage contract—including restriction of her husband’s right to take other wives—and has required documentation of marriage and divorce. In most countries, the husband can no longer simply tell his wife that she is divorced or divorce her in secret. Safeguards have been put in place to assure that the wife is aware of her status as either a wife or a divorced woman.

Reforms have also bolstered the woman’s right to her dowry and maintenance. Most countries regard the husband’s failure to pay maintenance as legal grounds for divorce. The grounds for divorcing a husband have been expanded to include desertion, the presence of an incurable or contagious disease, moral impropriety, and domestic violence—although maltreatment is sometimes difficult to prove in court. Reforms have also affirmed the woman’s status as a property holder, and they have supported the Qur’anic rule that a woman’s dowry and maintenance belong to her and should not be under the control of her husband.

Concerns have been raised about the apparent loss of women’s rights in Iran since the 1979 Islamic revolution. Although women have been required to wear Islamic dress, they enjoy relatively free access to education, employment, and politics. Furthermore, Iran has been willing to consider modern medical advice in addressing matters of Islamic law, such as the minimum age for marriage. Thus, although classical Islamic law set the minimum age for marriage for girls at 9, Iran raised the age to 15. The nation also passed legislation in 1982 requiring the inclusion of 12 conditions favorable to women in every marriage contract. The most important conditions are those granting the wife the right to divorce under certain circumstances and entitling the wife to half of the wealth accumulated during the marriage. Muslim reformers in Iran also won the right of women to compensation in the event of divorce for their labor during marriage, including housework.

North Africa.

In North Africa, women played an important role in the wars for independence in the mid-1900s. They expected that their support and work in liberating their countries would be rewarded in the new states. However, though women gained greater access to education and work following the wars of independence, family matters remained largely under the jurisdiction of Islamic law.

Tunisia, the most secular of the North African countries, was the only one to outlaw polygyny. Tunisia also allows both men and women complete freedom in contracting their own marriage. In other countries, polygyny is restricted, rather than outlawed, and marriage contracts must be drawn up by marriage guardians. However, Algeria forbids the marriage of any woman against her will and does not allow the guardian to block a marriage desired by the woman as long as it is beneficial to her. Morocco and Algeria allow women who claim to have suffered harm from their husbands’ marrying an additional wife to seek divorce. All North African countries grant the wife the right to establish favorable conditions in her marriage contract.

South Asia.

Women’s participation in nationalist movements in India and Pakistan led to greater access to public life for women, particularly in education. Women also gained the right to inherit all forms of property. Although many were concerned that Pakistan’s implementation of Islamic law during the 1970s and 1980s would restrict the rights and roles of women, women remain active in the public realm. In recent years, President Pervez Musharraf sought to increase women’s participation and representation in the legislative system by reserving one-third of the seats in local elections for women. However, literacy levels in Pakistan remain low and a traditional patriarchal culture remains intact. As a result, it is often difficult for women to act independently of male family members, who see themselves as guardians of the family’s honor.

The most important legislation passed in Pakistan was the Muslim Family Laws Ordinance of 1961 , which prohibited the right of the man to divorce his wife by declaring a triple divorce at one time. The law also restricted the man’s right to polygyny, required the registration of marriages, and discouraged quick divorces. In addition, reforms in inheritance laws gave orphaned grandchildren inheritance rights.

Legal reforms and advances in women’s rights in Pakistan have often not trickled down to the rural poor, who make up the majority of the population. Rape remains unrecognized as a crime. A woman who brings a case of rape to the court system is likely to be accused of adultery, which has led to an underreporting of rape cases. Honor killings remain a serious social problem in the country. Furthermore, although the law requires official registration of marriages, failure to register does not make the marriage invalid. Although a small fine or short prison sentence may be imposed, the marriage itself remains legal.

Southeast Asia.

Women in Southeast Asia have traditionally enjoyed broader involvement in social and political affairs than Muslim women in other regions. Malaysia, for example, is a matriarchal society that traces lineage through women, and women there have traditionally been the heads of household and major property holders. As in other colonized regions, the women of Southeast Asia participated in the struggle for independence and supported women’s education as critical to progress. Post-independence, women were strongly represented in politics, both in forming parties and in government positions. Women also play an important role in social services, running orphanages, maternity clinics, hospitals, and daycare centers.

Family law reforms in Malaysia, as in other regions, have required the registration and documentation of marriages and divorces. Dowry amounts are fixed. A man must promise to provide his wife with maintenance, and the court can have the maintenance deducted directly from a man’s paycheck. An arbitration process in which women counselors play a prominent role is required prior to divorce. Malaysia has also restricted the practice of polygyny by requiring the man to obtain the written permission of both his current wife and the appropriate religious office to seek an additional marriage. Nevertheless, cultural issues, like domestic violence, remain widespread in the country and are the focus of women’s organizations.

Current Issues in Women’s Rights

The issues of veiling and gender segregation remain controversial in Islamic societies today. While some view Islamic dress as a limitation on personal freedom—as in the extreme case of Afghan women under the Taliban—others believe that secular societies that require Western dress also limit a woman’s personal freedom. The 1998 case of a female member of parliament in Turkey who was banned from her seat in parliament because she insisted on wearing a headscarf raised serious questions about freedom of dress.

Furthermore, in many countries, women are deciding to wear Islamic dress because they find that it brings respect and access to public space while preserving their modesty. Many educated professionals are choosing to wear the hijab to identify themselves as Muslims and to show that they are religious, moral women.

Domestic violence, honor killings, and rape remain major social problems. Reforms in these matters are supported by a variety of women’s organizations, from the grassroots level to government ministries. Recognition that these issues are as much cultural as religious has led to calls for basic reeducation of men and women on these issues, as well as legal reforms affecting family law. See also Divorce; Education; Family; Hijab; Inheritance; Law; Marriage; Women.

Women and Social Reform

[This entry includes five subentries: 

• AN OVERVIEW
• MIDDLE EAST
• NORTH AFRICA
• SOUTH ASIA
• SOUTHEAST ASIA.]

An Overview

Social reform in Muslim countries has been a long struggle that has entailed different political, economic, and cultural factors and has witnessed progress and regression since the early twentieth century. The years since 1980 have witnessed the intensification of economic and political crises in the Middle East region. The change from state-led development to privatization has contributed to severe economic crises manifested in the spread of poverty and large-scale unemployment, especially among the young men and women of the working and middle classes. The Islamist opposition movements, for one, hold a traditional vision on the division of labor between men and women and a family-centered imagination; yet their rising influence was a result of their strategy to use these economic situations to underline the failures of the nation-state and to represent themselves as reformers offering solutions. When these Islamist political movements achieved electoral gains, their successes provoked violent political reactions from many states, leading to the weakening of both forces. The political outcomes of the struggles between the state and its Islamist opponents since 1990 have increasingly underlined the authoritarian character of nation-states, which continue to monopolize political power, eroding their national basis of legitimacy as they govern societies characterized by glaring inequalities between classes, genders, and ethnic groups.

Economic and Political Crises and the Reform of Gender Inequalities.

During the 1990s, as economic crises in the Middle East intensified, privatization decreased the state’s role in the provision of vital social services including education, health, and, most importantly, employment. According to the 2002 Arab Human Development Report, one of the significant results of this structural adjustment process was the regional feminization of poverty and unemployment, exacerbating gender inequality. In Egypt and Bahrain, for example, female unemployment was three times as high as that of men, and in Morocco, Syria, Jordan, and Oman, it was twice as high (Moghadam, 2004). In response, Islamist oppositional groups and many of the nation-states in the region encouraged women to return home. This strategy was not feasible for female-headed households, whose large numbers were documented in Egypt, Lebanon, Yemen, and the West Bank and Gaza, and for working-class families whose women had increased their participation in the informal sector of the economy.

In a region where women’s literacy more than doubled between 1970 and 1985, women still represented two-thirds of the illiterate population. Since 1985, total state expenditures on education in Arab states progressively declined, with serious consequences for the rate of working-class girls who had to drop out of school to assist with housework as their mothers entered the work force.

In the face of these acute crises, the Islamists have attempted to respond to the grievances of groups who have been excluded in the new privatized economies. They were rewarded by electoral and political gains in Tunisia and Egypt (in the late 1980s) and Algeria (in the early 1990s), leading these states to move against them—representing them as “terrorists” who posed a security threat to the political stability of these societies and continued modernization. Both sides targeted women, used the traditional roles of women to score political points against each other, and provoked different responses from women.

Egypt.

In Egypt, the state and the national/secular political elites accused the Islamists of undermining the long history of Egyptian nationalist modernization/enlightenment by emphasizing a return to traditionalism, represented by the emphasis they placed on women’s adherence to the Islamic mode of dress. Nawāl al-Saʿdāwī, the well-known feminist, offered a one-sided position with regard to hijab, describing the Muslim women’s head cover adopted by many women as a sign of lack of full use of their reasoning abilities. Others represented women’s embrace of Islamism typified by the Islamic mode of dress as undermining the nationalist discourse on the liberation of women, developed by early male reformers like Qāsim Amīn, with its emphasis on education and participation in public life. They argued that the discussion of women’s roles in society was a civil matter, not a religious one. Finally, they offered the familiar argument that the liberation of Arab women is inseparable from the liberation of Arab men and the liberation of society itself. This assertion pointed out the nationalization of the concerns of women by putting them in the service of the broader social and political project of the modern state.

In response, the Islamists accused the state and its elites of sacrificing the Islamic character of society in the name of modernization, without being able to meet the developmental needs of the unemployed younger generations of men and women and the underdeveloped southern region of the country. Some Islamist women concurred with this analysis; they described their decision to embrace the Islamist project as a means of grounding the construction of daily life in Islamic principles and developing an Islamic sensibility that is more concrete and less abstract. Prominent Islamist women, theorizing on the importance of contemporary Islamism as an alternative to Western feminism, offered revisionist views of Egyptian women’s history. Zaynab al-Ghazālī charged early Egyptian feminists with contributing to the alienation of Muslim women from the religion that provided them with a dignified status and important role models. Nationalists turned their backs on Islamic tradition, while Islamist women sought to extract more balanced interpretations of Islam’s support of women’s rights. Similarly, Heba Raouf Ezzat rejected feminism as a Western import that showed limited appreciation for the important roles that Muslim women played in the family. Her critique focused on how feminism promised women individual liberty in exchange for a weakened family unit, thus depriving women of an important source of social protection and support.

Tunisia.

In Tunisia, the Islamists used the economic crisis to attract the support of young men and women with limited social mobility. In addition to their economic critique of state policies, the Islamists represented the free mixing of men and women in universities, Western modes of dress, and the violation of religious rules as the “manifestations of moral delinquency.” The government of Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn bin ʿAlī and its Islamist opponents quickly focused on the Personal Status Law, the centerpiece of the national modernizing project, in their attempts to subvert each other’s political discourses. The Islamists saw it as a deviation from Islamic tradition, and the state saw it as part of the National Pact by which political parties needed to abide.

In response, the Islamists’ called their new political party al-Nahḍah, (the Renaissance), appropriating the key concept of Arab modernity to describe their political project. Bin ʿAlī responded by posing a national challenge to the Islamists in the form of a new National Pact: “Nothing justifies the creation of a group as long as it has not defined the type of society that it commends, clarified its position towards a certain number of civilizational issues and committed itself to respect the equality of rights and duties of citizens, men and women as well as the principles of tolerance and of the liberty of conscience.” Also in the pact, the state emphasized Tunisia’s “Arabo-Islamic identity,” protecting itself against Islamist critics and appropriating a key source of their appeal.

Tunisian women were split in their support of these different political forces and their gender agendas. The official Union of Tunisian Women and relatively independent women’s groups supported the state as the defender of the rights of women. In contrast, Islamist women used the Islamic mode of dress to fight sexism in the public arena, criticize their families’ practice of religion, and develop support networks. With the elimination of the Islamist threat, the state tightened its control of the gender agenda and emerging feminist groups, but it also began an undeclared campaign of discrimination against Islamist women. They were warned to give up their mode of dress if they wanted to keep their jobs, and those who worked for the state and resisted faced termination of their employment.

Algeria.

The confrontation between the state and its Islamist opponents was the most bloody in Algeria—it resulted in a prolonged civil war that claimed the lives of many men and women. Consequently, the pitch of the polemical exchanges between Islamists and nationalists was unparalleled in the region. Because some of the nationalists and feminists had internalized the French cultural frame of reference, they addressed themselves largely to French and Western audiences. For example, Khalida Messaoudi wrote, “The hijab is like a yellow star for women, the first step towards their physical elimination.” Similarly, Rachid Mimouni suggested, “A women to an Islamist is like a Jew to a Nazi.” This minority view clearly addressed a Western audience that privileged the Holocaust as an example of genocidal oppression that had great currency in the West. It said nothing about what Algerian women who took on the Islamic mode of dress thought and what the Islamic system of representation meant to them.

The views of Algerian Islamist women were not very different from those expressed by Tunisians and Egyptians. Some saw the hijab as providing them with equality before God, greater public freedom, a basis for bodily integrity in crowded social facilities, and greater individuality. Algerian women researchers also pointed out that there were few differences between the aspirations of Islamist and non-Islamist women for education, work, and public participation.

Iran and Turkey.

The non-Arab cases of Iran’s Islamic republic and Turkey’s secular republic offer contrasting perspectives on the possibilities of reform under Islamist governments. Since 1990, women and young people in Iran were able to use the republican principles of their religious government to back the election of President Moḥammad Khātamī as the representative of a reformist segment of the clerical establishment. As part of this reformist trend, many women were elected to parliament, and, upon his election, Khātamī expressed his gratitude to women as a constituency by appointing a woman vice president. The new opening encouraged the emergence of a new alliance between feminist and Islamist women that pushed for gender agendas that supported more rights for women within and outside the family. Equally important, in women’s publications and within some segments of the clerical establishment, debates began about how the creation of the Islamic republic pressured the clerics of the religion to develop interpretations that were friendly to women, to rebut Western claims that Islam was unfair to women and/or inhospitable to their rights.

The conservative clerical establishment in Iran was successful in blocking the efforts of the reformists in parliament and disqualifying their candidates in the elections of 2004; this led to the election of the conservative Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. His government reinstated the restrictive social environment and the strict surveillance of women in an effort to distract from the economic and political failures of the new regime.

The history of the secular republic in Turkey, whose commitment to nationalist modernization and attempt to join the European Union, which entails conforming to specific human rights requirements, made it a regional role model for women-friendly policies, revealing a new kind of openness. It has responded to the rise of Islamism and its spread among women in surprisingly repressive ways. Using the commitment to secularism as a stick, the republican state passed administrative laws in the late 1980s that discriminated against religious women who wore headscarves, by denying them the right to education, work, and political participation. The result was the familiar split observed in many Arab states, between women who supported the nationalist discourses on modernization and those who embraced Islamism. Interestingly, despite the important role that women played in the election of Islamist political parties, once they were elected, the steps they took to reverse the discriminatory laws that prevented their women supporters from exercising their rights of citizenship were minimal. This showed the extent to which Islamist governments were similar to secularist governments in subordinating women’s interests to general political interests, especially in their relations with their nationalist and Kemalist counterparts. The priority was given to demonstrating to the secularist political establishment and its public their willingness to operate within the set secular rules.

September 11 and Gender Discourses.

The events of 11 September 2001 have injected international issues into the debate about the future of Muslim women and their societies. It imported the “clash of civilization” thesis to characterize the struggle between the West (and its secular state allies in the region) and Islam/Islamism as a new source of global conflict. The neoconservative theorists of the war on terrorism borrowed, without the benefit of critical analysis, the perspectives of the Middle Eastern states on Islamism to characterize al-Qaʿida as a security threat that could be eliminated through the use of force to overthrow the Taliban regime in Afghanistan and that of Saddam Hussein in Iraq in order to improve the prospects of democratization of Islamic societies and to improve women’s rights. United States intervention in Afghanistan and Iraq has not improved the conditions of women. The war exacerbated the sectarian and ethnic divisions among the Shīʿī, the Sunnīs, and the Kurds and created a new space for conservative religious discourse on the rights of women. The war has also increased the burdens of women in taking care of their families. In addition, it gave al-Qaʿida a regional stage from which it could attempt to strengthen the Islamists as defenders of Islamic lands against the new crusaders.

The Arab Spring and the Role of Women.

Nevertheless, despite all of these attempts to marginalize women in the public sphere and to manipulate the images of women to promote various agendas, women were key players in the protests of the Arab Spring that led to the fall of many regimes since 2010. In Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, women’s presence cannot be overlooked, and women’s hopes were high that a new political context would empower women. Women in Tunisia are present in the ruling Nahda Party and the deputy of the constitutional assembly is a woman. Yet the unexpected rise of Salafism is a source of concern, and the gap between women in different political parties has not yet been bridged. In Egypt, the marginalization of women’s issues in parties’ political agendas as well as the new draft of the constitution, violation of female activists’ bodies by the military through virginity tests and the “blue bra” case of stripping a female demonstrator, and rising sexual harassment on the streets keep the horizons unclear for women’s equal citizenship. In Yemen, women still face poverty and the shadows of war, and the Libyan scene with its rising tribalism is still unclear regarding future social reform. Severe economic instability carries more challenges for poor women, as well as working women, and the fact that Islamists are now in power might prove to be an obstacle to further development of a social agenda of legal reform that supports women’s empowerment.

Middle East

The general inability of the modern Middle Eastern nation-state to fulfill promises of political and economic development, alongside a widespread perception of deteriorating public morality, have rekindled the historical conflict between the political and religious orders—between a Muslim state (presumably modeled after the original Islamic order) and a modern secular state, or between nationalism and utopian Islamic universalism (based on the concept of the ummah). The historical disputes over the legitimacy of the political order and the identity of an Islamic state became an apparently irreconcilable political and ideological conflict, exemplified by the Iranian Islamic Revolution of 1979, the spread of Islamist movements in the 1980s, and the Algerian civil conflict of the 1990s. The dual crises of legitimacy and identity underscore the fiercely competing religious and secular political discourses (“reformists,” “modernists,” “traditionalists,” and “Islamists”) vying for power, political constituencies, and, ultimately, the ethical direction of society. Since the 1980s, the continuing friction between the state and religious institutions has rendered social reform all the more contentious, especially in the domain of women and the family. The 2011 political revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt renewed questions about the capacity of Islamist parties, which won elections there and in Morocco, to bring about social reforms that are inclusive of the rights of women and of religious and ethnic minorities. This essay briefly sketches some patterns of family-law reform and the status of Middle Eastern women in that context.

Contours of Family Law: Marriage, Divorce, Child Custody, and Guardianship.

In Islam, marriage (nikāḥ) is an exchange contract (ʿaqd) between unequal partners, involving a complex set of marital rights and reciprocal obligations. On the basis of the controversial Qurʾānic verse 4:3, traditional Islamic law gives Muslim men the right to marry up to four wives simultaneously. Shīʿī men may further contract an unlimited number of temporary marriages (mutʿah, or sīgheh in Farsi), legitimated in their view by the Qurʾān (4:24; following the second caliph’s ban on temporary marriage in the seventh century, Sunnīs reject this practice). The legal possibility of polygyny and mutʿah is an element of insecurity for women in Islamic marriage. As a result, some legislatures in the Middle East and North Africa adopted reforms to regularize Islamic marriage and divorce and provide for women’s security. In other cases, governments strengthened conservative provisions that benefit male kin.

For example, conditions not contrary to the essence of Muslim marriage (e.g., that the husband divorce a former wife) may be added to the marriage contract to safeguard the rights of the wife. Child marriage, a problem endemic to many Muslim societies, has been discouraged by raising the minimum age for marriage for both boys and girls. Generally it stands at eighteen for boys, but for girls it varies from fifteen to eighteen. In contrast, the Islamic Republic of Iran abolished the Iranian Family Protection Law of 1975, reverting to the Shīʿī minimum marriage age of fifteen for boys and nine for girls (New Civil Law, clause 1041). In all cases, the age restrictions may be waived at the discretion of a judge.

“Of all things permissible, divorce [ṭalāq] is the most reprehensible,” states a saying popularly attributed to the Prophet Muhammad (Ḥadīth 2173). Nonetheless, Islamic law grants the unilateral right of divorce to the husband (Qurʾān 2:226–237; 65:1). In attempting legal reforms, many Middle Eastern states preserved unchallenged the right of the man to repudiate his wife, while allowing greater latitude for women seeking divorce in cases of cruelty, failure of the man to provide for his wife, and abandonment.

A divorce may take several forms; the most common is the revocable divorce. A revocable (rajʿī; literally “returnable”) divorce is semifinal: the bonds of marriage are not completely severed. Although the husband and wife may separate physically, he has the unilateral right to return to his wife during the three months of her waiting period and to resume his marital rights and duties. The wife’s consent is not sought or required, and she cannot remarry within the same period. Parallel to his right of return, she has the right to financial support. Islamic law grants a repentant husband the right to return to his wife and revoke the divorce twice, but, after the third divorce, he can no longer do so, for this last divorce becomes irrevocable (Qurʾān 2:229). Traditionally, Sunnī Sharīʿahpermitted the single pronouncement of a triple “I divorce you,” but in states such as Egypt, Syria, and Kuwait, such triple divorce became null and was counted as only one (Nasir, 1990, p. 76). Shīʿī law prohibits the triple pronouncement of repudiation altogether (Anderson, 1971).

An irrevocable (bāʾin) divorce occurs when the dissolution of marriage is final from the moment of pronouncement. In this form of divorce, the husband’s right to return and the wife’s right to maintenance are both curtailed, but only the woman has to maintain three months’ sexual abstinence.

On specific grounds (e.g., absence of maintenance), Muslim women can apply for divorce, recognized as divorce of khulʿ (Qurʾān 2:229). A fundamental difference, however, exists between khulʿ and ṭalāq (divorce). Divorce is a unilateral (īqā) act in which the wife’s consent is not necessary, whereas khulʿ is a contract to which the husband must agree. Under this provision, however, women are obliged to forgo their bride-price (mahr) and the three months’ alimony.

Potentially, the most threatening issues facing a married Muslim woman are a unilateral and capricious divorce and an absence of alimony beyond the three months’ waiting period (ʿiddah) following divorce. Islamic law and norms consider that women are sufficiently compensated by the mahr, although the deferred bride-price can be forfeited if the wife is deemed to have been at fault in the divorce. In some countries, some efforts to compensate divorced women were made. For example, under the heading of “compensation for repudiation,” Kuwaiti law states that, in the case of a wife’s arbitrary divorce, she is entitled to an amount “not in excess of a year’s maintenance” above her three months’ ʿiddah period. However, she is not entitled to any provision if the divorce is on the basis of the husband’s insolvency or the wife’s injurious behavior or her consent, or if the divorce is initiated by the wife.

Under the principle of guardianship, men have the responsibility of protecting their female kin and maintaining their wives and children. This guardianship also gives men rights to child custody after divorce. In the case of small children, the mothers are allowed to keep them until the ages of seven, nine, or eleven (depending on the country and legal interpretation in place), when they are returned to their father. In the latter half of the twentieth century, Middle Eastern reformers made minimal and conditional provisions for women’s maintenance after divorce, while leaving the wrenching issue of custody of children—religiously and legally a father’s prerogative—generally unchanged.

Family Law Reform in Historical Perspective.

The codification of personal status matters and family law reform is associated with larger processes of state building, modernization, or political reforms. In general, the pace of legal and political reforms accelerated in the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, when most states in the Middle East and North Africa were at their reformist peak. The changes were aimed at loosening the political, economic, and moral hold that the religious establishment had for centuries enjoyed over the domestic domain. The success of the legal reforms and of their implementation was not uniform. Depending on their sociopolitical strength, economic resources, and relationship with the clergy or kin structures, states pursued different strategies (Charrad, 2001; Nasir, 1990, pp. 119–136).

The Ottoman Law of Family Rights of 1917 set in motion the earliest legal reform in a Muslim society, restricting the male privileges of plural marriage and divorce by permitting women to seek justice. The law, however, did not limit the husband’s right to repudiate his wives without cause (Kandiyoti, 1991, p. 11; White, 1978, p. 56). In 1926, as part of the Kemalist revolution, the state adopted the Turkish Civil Code, severing all links with the Sharīʿah. It banned polygyny and gave marriage partners equal rights to divorce and child custody. At about the same time, Egypt enacted a series of personal laws (1920–1929) that raised the marriage age for both girls and boys, prohibited marriage without the couple’s consent, and restricted divorce by giving women the right to divorce on specified grounds (Coulson and Hinchcliffe, 1978, p. 49). Social reforms under President Gamal Abdel Nasser did not, however, eliminate polygamy or men’s privileges in divorce.

In 1951, Jordan reformed the Law of Family Rights (amended in 1976), restricting polygamy and divorce and giving women the right to divorce on certain grounds. A “fair” alimony was provided for the wife if a judge determined that she had been divorced arbitrarily. Syria enacted the Law of Personal Status in 1953 (amended in 1975), adding a right to financial support for a divorced wife of up to three years after arbitrary divorce. The law restricted, but did not ban, polygyny and unilateral divorce.

In late 1967, Iran introduced the Family Protection Law, revised in 1975. It restricted polygyny and divorce and was the only case of reform to accord the wife an equal right to the custody of children. It also made provision for alimony for either partner, to be determined on the basis of income. The Family Protection Law was abolished after the 1979 Islamic Revolution, and Islamic precepts were reinstated, with no restriction on polygyny or temporary marriage and minimal conditional limitation on arbitrary and unilateral divorce.

In Iraq, the Baʿth party amended the Personal Status Law in 1978 (adopted in 1959, and amended in 1963), an emendation that, though limited in its objectives, aimed at reducing the control of the husband in plural marriages and unilateral divorce. A husband’s desire for a second marriage had to be approved by a judge.

Lebanese ethnic heterogeneity prompted the state to delegate family matters, divorce, and marriage to the control of each specific religious establishment. Consequently, the Lebanese state did not legislate a national family code, but issued some sixteen separate codes for eighteen religious sects.

Between the 1950s and 1970s, the most progressive family laws or personal status codes were to be found in Tunisia (adopted in 1956) and in the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen (adopted in 1967). While the former was based on a liberal interpretation of the Sharīʿah, while also drawing on Western (especially French) norms of the time, the latter drew heavily on the laws and norms of the socialist world.

During this period, Saudi Arabia, North Yemen, and the Gulf states—Bahrain, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, Oman, and Qatar—were a case apart, as they held deeply conservative views on women’s status in the family and their social participation. Saudi Arabia particularly resisted change and strictly enforces its version of Islamic law. Morocco, too, instituted a very conservative family law—the Moudawana of 1957—after independence, in contrast to developments in neighboring Tunisia and Algeria.

The overall objective of codification or reforms in traditional Islamic family law was to accommodate Muslim women within a religiously and culturally relevant context. As such, Middle Eastern states (apart from Turkey) incorporated aspects of the different jurisprudential schools of Islamic law in all the changes made in family law. For example, they tended to restrict the husband’s right to plural marriages by making it conditional on the wife’s consent or the court’s permission. This confronted Muslim women with an unenviable choice: either give their consent or sue for divorce.

For the most part, states initiated family law reforms in the 1950s and 1960s timidly, only to come under strong criticism from Islamists beginning in the late 1970s and throughout the 1980s. Taking a literal approach to the Sharīʿah, Islamists believe its laws to be divine, unchanging, and fundamental to maintaining a distinctly Islamic way of life. They view family legal reform as deviating from Islamic law and as inspired by the West.

The conflict over the proper Islamic approach to the role and status of women in the family and in the public domain became especially intense in the 1980s and 1990s, with Islamist movements largely succeeding in forcing states to retreat from earlier social reforms. This occurred most dramatically in Iran, but also in Egypt and in Yemen after the 1990 unification. At the same time, Middle Eastern women—particularly those who had gained access to education and employment and desired more participation and rights—began to mobilize in opposition to state concessions to Islamist pressures. Thus, in contrast with the earlier period of social reform in the Middle East, the impetus for the most recent wave of reform has come largely from women’s organizations, which began to proliferate in the 1990s.

Women‘s Movements and Family Law Reforms in the Twenty-First Century.

In the 1980s and 1990s, heavy pressure from increasingly vocal Islamists forced many states to reconsider family reforms, to Islamize their rhetoric, or to reformulate them within an Islamic framework. The Islamists, unlike the “traditionalists,” are not exclusively against women’s social participation, provided that their public roles are legitimated within an Islamic framework and that women uphold Islamic identity by observing Islamic conduct and veiling. Still, they have opposed liberalization of family laws, and this has galvanized women’s rights activism on two fronts. On one, women with religious convictions are questioning historical patriarchal assumptions and practices; they are returning to the Qurʾān and giving it their own emancipatory and egalitarian interpretation (see writings by Leila Ahmed, Aziza al-Hibri, Margot Badran, Asma Barlas, Fatima Mernissi, Amina Wadud) in what some have called Islamic feminism. On the other front, women’s rights organizations, comprising politically aware secular feminists, draw on international standards and norms and on culturally appropriate discourses to demand improvements in the legal status and social positions of women. The global women’s rights agenda, crafted and promoted by the United Nations, has been especially important in legitimizing Middle Eastern women’s struggles for equal rights in the family and in public domains.

Egypt’s personal status laws were amended by presidential decree in June 1979 and came to be known as “Jihan’s Law” for the wife of then-president Anwar el-Sadat. Because of pressure from Islamists, the decree was declared unconstitutional in May 1985, but was legally adopted by the People’s Assembly in July of the same year, albeit with some changes. It left unchanged the right of the husband to divorce and to marry more than one wife, and removed a wife’s automatic right to a divorce if her husband took another wife, but divorce now had to be mediated by the court, registered, and witnessed, and the wife promptly and officially informed. The 1985 law provided for maintenance for as long as the divorced mother nursed or cared for the small children, but removed her right to dwell in the unrented home (An-Naim, 2002, p. 170). The age range for which the mother has automatic custody of children was raised to ten and twelve (from seven and nine) for boys and girls, respectively. In the years following enactment of this law, Egyptian feminists worked to introduce a marriage contract that would stipulate the rights of the wife, including the right to a khulʿ divorce. They succeeded in doing so in 2000.

In December 2001, the Jordanian Cabinet approved several amendments to the Civil Status Law. The legal age for marriage was raised from fifteen for women and sixteen for men to eighteen for both, and Jordanian women were given legal recourse to divorce. New restrictions on polygyny required a man to inform his first wife of plans to marry again and to submit evidence of his financial ability to support more than one wife. Interpretation of guardianship to justify the so-called honor killing of a female family member deemed sexually transgressive was challenged, and women’s rights activists successfully pushed for reform of the penal code to criminalize this extreme form of family violence.

In North Africa, women’s rights and feminist organizations formed the Collectif 95 Maghreb Egalité, which was the major organizer behind the Muslim Women’s Parliament at the NGO Forum that preceded the UN’s Fourth World Conference on Women in Beijing in September 1995. The Collectif formulated an alternative “egalitarian family code” and promoted women’s political participation. Moroccan women’s groups launched a campaign to obtain one million signatures for family law reform, and in 1998 they received the support of the new government. The plan to reform the Mudawana came under attack by conservative Islamic forces, but victory came in October 2003, after a royal commission recommended reform and the new king issued a decree supporting reform. In January 2004, the parliament adopted Morocco’s new family law, which is far more egalitarian in spirit and letter. While it does not ban polygyny, it makes it extremely difficult for a man to take an additional wife and establishes the principle of divorce by mutual consent. Moreover, the law gives the wife self-guardianship and confers on the wife, as well as the husband, responsibility for the family. Newly formed family courts will adjudicate issues of matrimonial property division and child custody following divorce.

In the Islamic Republic of Iran, an opposition trend in social reform may be observed. The abrogation of the 1975 Family Protection Act was followed by conservative legislation on women, men, and the family, along with compulsory veiling. But the patriarchal agenda of the Islamic Republic was resisted by segments of the society, while changes in the characteristics of the female population—notably higher education levels, delayed marriage, fewer children, and various forms of social participation—resulted in women’s activism for change in the family laws. The One Million Signatures Campaign, modeled after the successful campaign in Morocco in the 1990s, was launched in 2006; it entailed both a petition drive and social-awareness raising. The authorities responded by accusing the women’s rights activists of undermining national security, harassing and arresting activists, confiscating computers, and forcing others into exile. In 2008, the Ahmadinejad government introduced a controversial Family Protection Bill that imposed taxation of the mahr, removed the requirement to register temporary marriages, and eliminated the need for a husband to prove financial solvency or ask his wife’s permission before marrying another woman. This was too outrageous even for Ahmadinejad’s supporters in parliament and their female constituencies, and it was rescinded. But, in 2012, two other measures were introduced: a quota placing a cap on female enrollments in universities in a number of fields of study; and a reversal of the family planning policy in favor of higher fertility (Roudi, 2012).

Calls for family law reform in some countries seek to eliminate gender injustices such as child marriages, male privileges in divorce, and the absence of a concept of matrimonial property. In other cases, reform is needed to close the gap between outdated laws subordinating women to husbands or male kin and the new social realities of educated, active, and empowered women. But social reform that challenges religious precepts and moves closer to gender equality continues to be contested by conservative forces, as seen in the Middle East and North Africa in 2011–2012. In post-Qadhdhāfī Libya, the new interim leader declared that polygamy would be restored. In Turkey, the president created a firestorm when he declared his intention to ban abortion. And, in the new Tunisia, controversy arose when members of the Islamist-dominated constituent assembly announced their intent to replace the word “equality,” referring to men and women, with “complimentarity” or “partnership.” The years ahead will reveal the extent to which the Arab Spring has contributed to social reform that is inclusive of women and women’s rights.

North Africa

North African women have participated in social change efforts for decades. They were involved in anticolonial movements and postindependence reforms. Mobilization efforts have increased considerably since the 1990s and during the Arab Spring, as women-led organizations strive to uphold women’s human rights.

Colonial Period.

While the French controlled Algeria (1830–1962), Tunisia (1881–1956), and Morocco (1912–1956), few reforms were directed at the status of women. Instead, traditional female roles were often stressed as symbols of cultural authenticity. Early nationalist groups in all three countries favored reform, although education for women had limited support. Just as significant for postindependence reform was the participation of women in all three anticolonial struggles. Their activities in Algeria’s 1954–1962 war of independence have been best documented. Nearly eleven thousand women participated, and 20 percent were jailed or killed. Although revolutionaries deferred the process of changing female roles until after independence (or later), women’s wartime heroism remains an important symbol of their potential.

Postindependence Period.

After independence (Morocco, 1956; Tunisia, 1956; and Algeria, 1962), each country laid out its own path to social reform, including the establishment of a constitution, legal codes, and government agencies to promote change. In order to build viable national political constituencies and to reconcile the competing interests of Islam and nationalism, however, reforms concerning women were limited. Nonetheless, Tunisian women received the vote in 1957, Algerian women in 1962, and Moroccan women in 1963.

Maghribī Women in the Twenty-First Century.

Advocates of social reform for Maghribī women include conservatives and liberals, secularists and scripturalists. Their reform agendas may be quite different, however.

Social and economic changes.

Significant changes have occurred since independence, with important consequences for women’s status and rights. The average age at first marriage has risen, and more women are staying single or not marrying at all. The percentage of never-married women ages thirty-five to thirty-nine stands at 17 percent, 12 percent, and 15 percent for Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, respectively, a drastic change since independence, and an indicator of the reality of different family forms.

Fertility rates have declined substantively, and all three countries are below 2.5 births per woman. The shift from larger to smaller families has been the most drastic in Morocco, decreasing from 7.2 in 1968 to 2.5 in 2008. However, youth under the age of fifteen represent close to 30 percent of the population in Algeria and Morocco and 24 percent in Tunisia.

School enrollment rates for women are another area with considerable change. While few attended school before independence, in 2010–2011 the primary school completion rate for girls was 82 percent in Morocco, 96 percent in Algeria, and 92 percent in Tunisia (World Bank, 2012). Yet in all countries, the quality of education, school dropout rates, and the gender gap remain problems. The increased number of individuals receiving formal education does not translate directly into higher rates of employment and pay. Having paid employment often can increase women’s leverage within the family and in society at large, although there remain many instances of husbands commandeering the wife’s salary, women being pressured to register property in their husband’s name, harassment of working women by their families, and husbands being pressured to divorce working wives. In 2011, the percentage of women over fifteen in the labor force was 26.2 in Morocco, 15.0 in Algeria, and 25.5 in Algeria (World Bank, 2012).

Legal Status of Women.

Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia are parties to the major United Nations human rights conventions, including the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination against Women(Morocco, 1993; Algeria, 1996; and Tunisia, 1985). In response to advocacy by local women’s rights groups and United Nations recommendations, Algeria (2009) and Morocco (2011) withdrew their reservations on the compatibility of the convention’s definition of gender equality with Islamic Sharīʿah.

Despite adhesion to UN conventions and Constitutional guarantees of equality, North African women still suffer from de jure and de facto discrimination. While formal equality for all citizens is explicitly proclaimed in all three constitutions, declaring Islam as the official religion provides decision makers with an opt-out concerning women’s rights.

In all three countries, marriage, divorce, child custody and guardianship, and property matters are governed by family, or “personal status” laws. While other legislation is based on secular, European-style civil codes (contracts, torts, criminal matters, and commerce), family laws are based on the Mālikī school of Sunnī Islam. This religious exceptionalism created by national laws—the Moroccan Family Code as reformed in 2004, the Algerian Family Code as amended in 2005, and the 1956 Tunisian Personal Status Code—impacts women’s status.

A royal commission initiated Moroccan Family Law reforms, building on decades of advocacy by women’s groups. The new law raised women’s age of marriageability from fifteen to eighteen; eliminated the husband’s status as “head of household”; placed polygamy, repudiation, and underage marriage under judicial control; made the walī—a bride’s male marital tutor—optional; and introduced divorce by mutual consent or for irreconcilable differences. Algerian Family Code amendments issued by presidential decree in 2005 were far less extensive—a walī is still mandatory for brides, and verbal marriages without a written contract are still legal. Both Moroccan and Algerian reforms allowed spouses to include a property contract agreeing on management, ownership, and division of assets acquired during the marriage.

Despite these reforms, Moroccan and Algerian women still have limited access to divorce; polygamy remains legal; and women have fewer rights than their husbands when it comes to child custody and guardianship.

The 1956 Tunisian Personal Status Law prohibits polygamy, eliminates the walī, only recognizes judicial divorce (granted equally to men and women), and outlaws repudiation. It allows adoption, grants legal guardianship of children to the mother upon the father’s death, establishes the legal age of marriage as eighteen for girls and boys, and establishes paternity testing for abandoned children. A 1998 law instituted an optional community property regime for spouses.

In all three countries, women are not guaranteed access to adequate housing during marriage or upon divorce; alimony is not generally awarded upon divorce; and women’s unpaid household work is rarely taken into account when dividing marital property. Further, social norms can limit or deny women’s freedoms to study or work or to control their own sexual and reproductive health, as well as their freedom from violence. None of the countries have legislation governing violence against women. Reforms of women’s rights in the three countries have frequently been imposed from the top down and used for political expediency, rather than accompanied by awareness-raising campaigns to inform the population and mobilize support, which is necessary to ensure the reforms’ acceptance and application.

In addition, reforms have not been accompanied by government measures to monitor and control their implementation. Monitoring reports by women’s rights nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) in all three countries describe how even laws that are positive on the face of it are not enforced by officials charged with applying them. Authorities themselves are often unaware of the laws, hostile to women’s rights, or influenced by corruption. These circumstances help explain the fragility of these legislative gains.

Reform Processes and the Role of local NGOs.

Several obstacles have limited widespread women’s participation in reform processes—illiteracy, top-down state hierarchies, traditional attitudes towards women, and beliefs that family laws are sacred and untouchable. Despite this, beginning in the mid-1980s and increasing significantly since the late 1990s, hundreds of local associations promoting women’s rights have proliferated, notably in Morocco and Algeria. These groups provide a variety of services including popular legal rights education, legal advice, and representation. Increased support by the international community for women’s rights as a strategy for economic development, democratization, and the fight against terrorism has also contributed to the development of women’s advocacy organizations.

However, women are often faced with a triple struggle: against sexist traditions, extremist religious groups, and state repression. To combat these, activists and academics use varied arguments to promote women’s rights, including those based on international human rights, examples of progressive family laws from other Muslim countries, national constitutional equality guarantees, interpretations of Islam by women that are positive for women’s rights, sociological imperatives based on family harmony, and arguments based on economic development and modernization. One example is through scholarship like The Veil and the Male Elite (Mernissi, Veil and the Male Elite, 1991), in which Fatima Mernissi identifies the misogyny behind certain ḥadīths traditionally used to support male privilege and finds evidence for early Islam’s egalitarianism.

In Tunisia, the Ben Ali regime had severely repressed independent local NGOs, especially those working on human rights issues. Since the Tunisian Revolution of January 14, 2011, which ended the twenty-four-year regime, autonomous local associations working on women’s rights have been created across the country.

The Rise of Islamism and the Arab Spring.

The economic, social, and political power of Islamist groups, of which there are several varieties, has grown considerably since 1990 and more recently as a result of the 2011 elections in Tunisia and Morocco. Women join Islamist groups for various reasons: they provide basic social services to communities and individuals; they promote a roadmap of religiously based values and a sense of identity and legitimacy; they offer women an opportunity to mobilize as part of a social and political movement; and they link national efforts with Islamists in other countries, thus contributing to a sense of a larger global movement.

In all three countries, an increasing number of Maghribī women, including educated professionals, are electing to wear the hijab. This modern-day version of the Muslim veil leaves the face uncovered and is worn with an ample gown or a loose tunic and slacks. Women adopt the hijab for many complex reasons, not necessarily to acquiesce to male power. Although it is perceived by most Westerners as a symbol of female oppression, for many Maghribī women wearing the hijab represents a commitment to Islamic authenticity and has also taken on contemporary functions. The hijab meets the need for an overt expression of Islamic religious and cultural identity, while accommodating women’s expanded public presence within an Islamic framework. The veil ensures its wearer her private space (including freedom from male harassment), whatever the context.

For women wearing the hijab, the societal rewards are twofold. First, through their overt statement of virtue and commitment to Islam, they gain the respect and consideration of traditional men. Second, the initiative taken by these women, deliberately choosing to wear the veil, is empowering for many, creating a strong self-image and providing unimpeded physical mobility in public space. While for some the veil represents a retrograde mechanism of female oppression, for others it is psychologically liberating and facilitates access to a professional life. Paradoxically, then, the hijab, advocated by the Islamists, has the potential for being a liberating device while strengthening constraints traditionally imposed on Maghribī women.

The three countries have had to address the issue of what political space to allow for political parties based on religion. The Arab Spring has brought this issue to the forefront, with demands for democratization manifested in the ousting of Tunisian president Ben Ali, and in ongoing protests in Algeria and in Morocco since early 2011. Active in protests and lobbying as in past movements, women activists have also expanded their reach through the widespread use of social media such as Facebook and Twitter.

The status of women and family relations is central to the larger power struggle for authority and legitimacy between extremists and the state, due to the religious basis of the family and personal status codes. The major point of contention is who has the power to interpret and promote their vision of Islam as concerns women’s rights.

The new Moroccan constitution, approved by referendum in July 2011, guarantees equal civil, political, economic, social, cultural, and environmental rights for men and women (article 19), providing fresh opportunities for advocating for women’s rights, although the reaffirmation of Islam as the official religion still provides an opt-out.

Elections in Morocco and Tunisia in the fall of 2011 brought a large group of Islamists into the governments. In the Tunisian Constituent Assembly, 37 percent of seats went to the previously outlawed Islamist Ennahdha Party, and in Moroccan national elections 27 percent of seats in the House of Representatives went to the Justice and Development Party (PJD), the only legal Islamist party. While a 50 percent quota for women was set for candidates for the Tunisian elections, women only won 49 out of 217 seats on the Constituent Assembly, 42 from Ennahdha. The forty-one-member cabinet includes only three women. While a Moroccan national list reserved sixty seats in the House of Representatives for women, only seven others were elected to the Parliament through the local lists. The PJD-led coalition government has eleven PJD cabinet members, including the only woman minister—of Solidarity, Women, Family, and Social Development. Thus in 2010–2011, women held 16.9 percent of parliamentary seats in Morocco, 7.7 percent in Algeria, and 22.6 percent in Tunisia. By comparison, women then held 16.8 percent of the 435 seats in the U.S. House of Representatives.

In Algeria, a proposed bill to establish a quota for women in the 2012 legislative elections generated controversy. The version eventually adopted rejected the original one-third quota for women proposed by the president, and instead created a variable rate of women candidates by electoral district.

Conclusion.

Women’s advocacy related to their rights represents a historic moment for gender reform in the early twenty-first century. Women’s full participation in society is necessary in order for there to be truly democratic processes in the Maghrib. While women’s activism has increased greatly, international observers as well as local activists also express concern about the future of women’s rights in the post–Arab Spring context with the visible presence of Salafī movements in the public and political sphere.

South Asia

Various attempts at social and legal reform have provoked integral changes in Muslim women’s lives in the South Asian subcontinent throughout the past century. Attention to Muslim women’s status and efforts to improve it began as an offshoot of two separate kinds of movements: the larger social reform movement in British India and the growing Muslim nationalist movement. In the postpartition era, the issue of social reform and Muslim women largely has been associated with the discourse regarding the role Islam can and/or should play in a modern state. Importantly, it addresses the extent to which the civil rights common in most Western democracies are appropriate in the South Asian Muslim context and whether they should override Islamic injunctions in the realm of family law, or vice versa. While this discourse is exemplified by events in Pakistan, it has also been important in Bangladesh and India.

Although Muslims in the nineteenth century did not have to contend with such social issues as abolishing sati (a Hindu custom in which a widow was burnt to ashes with her dead husband) or promoting widow remarriage, as Hindu reformers did, they had an uphill struggle in introducing female education, easing some of the extreme restrictions on women’s activities associated with purdah, restricting polygyny, and ensuring women’s legal rights under Islamic law. Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khān’s Mohammedan Educational Conference, which began promoting modern education for Muslims in the 1870s, included many of the earliest proponents of female education and of raising women’s social status in wider society. The intent was to advance girls’ technical knowledge (evidenced in sewing and cooking classes) within a religious framework, thereby reinforcing Islamic values. A women’s section of the Mohammedan Educational Conference was formed in 1896, followed three years later by the opening of the first teacher training school for girls. Progress was slow in opening more Muslim girls’ schools; by 1921, only four out of every thousand Muslim females had enjoyed the benefits of education.

The promotion of female education was a first step in removing the bonds stipulated by traditional views of purdah. It contributed to transforming the very idea of purdah, the symbolic curtain that separates the world of men from the world of women. Many writers and social groups emerged, ostensibly promoting female literacy but in effect advocating women’s rights.

The nationalist struggle also tore at the threads in that curtain. Two important groups were soon established: the politically oriented All-India Muslim Ladies Conference, predominantly wives of leaders active in the Muslim League, and the social-reform-oriented Anjuman-i Khavātīn-i Islām, the precursor to other social-welfare-oriented women’s groups. Although these groups remained within the bounds of tradition, the precedent was set to challenge purdah itself. In the gradual building up of support for a Muslim homeland, women’s roles were being questioned and their empowerment linked to the larger issues of nationalism and independence. The demand for Muslim women to inherit property as well as other rights Muslims had lost with the Anglicization of certain civil laws was rectified somewhat in 1937 with the enactment of the Muslim Personal Law.

After independence, elite Muslim women in Pakistan continued to advocate women’s political empowerment through legal reforms. They mobilized support that eventually resulted in the passage of the Muslim Personal Law of Sharia (1948), which recognized a woman’s right to inherit all forms of property, and were behind the futile attempt to include a Charter of Women’s Rights in the 1956 constitution. The most important socio-legal reform was the 1961 Family Laws Ordinance, regulating marriage and divorce, which is still widely regarded in Pakistan and Bangladesh as empowering to women.

Two issues—promoting women’s political representation and finding some accommodation between Muslim family law and civil democratic rights—came to define the discourse regarding women and socio-legal reform in Pakistan in the years following the 1971 war that resulted in East Pakistan seceding from the federal union and becoming Bangladesh. The latter issue became particularly prominent during the era of the government of President Muhammad Zia ul-Haq (1977–1988) as women’s groups emerged in urban areas in response to the promulgation of an Islamization program that many feared would discriminate against women.

Discourse about the position of women in Islam and women’s roles in a modern Islamic state was sparked by the Pakistan government’s attempts to formalize a specific interpretation of Islamic law and exposed the controversy surrounding its various interpretations and role in a modern state. It was in the highly visible arena of law that women were able to articulate their objections to the Islamization program initiated by the government in 1979. Protests against the 1979 Enforcement of Hudood (Ar., ḥudūd) Ordinance focused on its failure to distinguish between adultery (zinah) and rape (zināh bi al-jabr), and that its enforcement was discriminatory to women. Further protests in 1983–1984 questioned the promulgation of the Qānūn-i Shahādah (Law of Evidence), which many felt did not give equal weight to men’s and women’s legal testimony. Importantly, the controversy surrounding the Qānūn-i Shahādah raised the issue of whether or not women and men are equal economic actors and the extent to which Western parliamentary and civil rights are applicable in a modern Muslim context.

The Shariat Bill and the Ninth Amendment (that all laws in Pakistan should be in conformity with Sharīʿah), proposed in 1986, were opposed by a range of women’s groups on the grounds that it would give rise to sectarianism and divide the nation. They were concerned that Sharīʿah would now come to be identified solely with the relatively conservative interpretation of Islam supported by Zia’s government. They also felt the Shariat Bill and the Ninth Amendment could potentially reverse many of the rights women in Pakistan had already won. In April 1991, a compromise version of the Shariat Bill was promulgated, but the debate over the issue of which kind of law—civil or Islamic—should prevail remains controversial.

No pivotal legislation was passed to further affect the rights of women during the democratic interregnum (1988–1999), which found Benazir Bhutto’s Pakistan People’s Party (PPP) and Nawaz Sharif’s Pakistan Muslim League (PML) jockeying for power. Despite both parties’ rhetoric of working for the empowerment of women, neither ever attempted to reverse the Hudood Ordinances, reinstate reserved seats for women in the provincial and national assemblies, or develop other substantive measures to transform Pakistani society in ways that could ensure women’s rights in popular practices.

The government of Pervez Musharraf, which came to power in Pakistan following a coup in October 1999, incorporated women’s empowerment as a substantive component of its policies to promote Pakistan’s progress and alleviate poverty; it reinstated reserved seats for women in the 2001 elections, encouraged a variety of educational initiatives targeting improving female literacy, and introduced various microcredit and other financial schemes to facilitate increasing women’s earning power. Importantly, and despite protests from Islamist parties now organized into a coalition, the Muttahida Majlis-e-Amal (MMA), which had risen to become leader of the opposition in the National Assembly, Musharraf’s government reformed the Hudood Ordinances in November 2006 by removing the zinah clauses and placing the crime of rape back into Pakistan’s Penal Code with the promulgation of the Protection of Women Act.

Since the coming to power of the Pakistan People’s Party in February 2008, further social reform legislation affecting women has been implemented. Unanimously passed in the National Assembly in January 2010, the Protection against Harassment for Women at the Workplace Act 2009 makes provisions for the protection against sexual harassment of women in public spaces. Two additional bills, both modifying the Pakistan Penal Code and the Code of Criminal Procedure, have pushed the legal empowerment of women in Pakistan further. Passed in December 2011, the Anti-WomenPractices Bill lists specific punishable offenses including compelling women to marry, especially “in consideration of settling a civil dispute or criminal liability,” prohibiting wanni and swara (exchange marriages and marriage as a form of compensation), as well as barring women from inheriting property or facilitating a woman marrying the Qurʾān or other “anti-women practices.” The second bill, commonly referred to as the “acid-throwing legislation,” specifically imposes penalties for causing harm or disfigurement by using a “corrosive substance,” punishable by long imprisonment and fines up to a million rupees.

A final act of legislation promises to make perhaps the greatest difference of all affecting women’s rights and empowering them in the future—the elevation of the National Commission on the Status of Women (NCSW) in early February 2012 and the subsequent appointment of long-time women’s rights activist Khawar Mumtaz as its chairperson. Importantly, the NCSW has been granted greater administrative autonomy to review laws, make recommendations, confer with the provincial governments, and, overall, gain greater scope, funding, and impact on redressing violations of women’s rights.

While the federal government of Pakistan has articulated its development priorities within a global framework (skills training, poverty alleviation strategies, improvement of the educational infrastructure, and promoting the empowerment of women), it cannot leave behind the language of Islam, as this would provide its Islamist opposition with the opportunity to claim they are the only viable Islamic alternative on the political landscape. The government of Bangladesh has found itself in the grip of a similar debate since the 1980s: the extent to which Islamic law should be instituted as the supreme law in the country. While the rights granted women under the 1961 Family Laws Ordinance are still in force, they are being threatened by efforts to assert mandatory dress codes and conduct for women, and may be affected if legal changes are instituted.

Similar issues have been raised regarding Muslim women and social reform in postindependence India. As members of a minority community, Indian Muslims are caught in the dilemma of maintaining a communal identity and needing to adapt to the larger Indian society. A watershed event concerning socio-legal reform for Muslim women in India was the 1986 passage of the MuslimWomen’s Protection of the Right of Divorce Bill, which revoked Muslim women’s rights to maintenance granted to Indian women under the state’s civil laws. This question remains pertinent in the 21st century, as Indian Muslims continue to question the relationship between civil and religious laws.

Women’s Action Forum

Formed in 1981 in response to the government of Pakistan’s implementation of an Islamic penal code, the Women’s Action Forum (WAF; Khavātāin Maḥā‐i ῾Amal) sought the strengthening of women’s position in society. Members feared that many of the proposed laws being put forward by the martial law government of General Zia ul‐Haq might be discriminatory against women and compromise their civil status, as they had seen with the promulgation of the Ḥudūd Ordinances in 1979 when women were indicted after having been raped. Women, most from elite families, banded together on the principal of collective leadership in the three major cities of Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad to formulate policy statements and engage in political action to safeguard women’s legal position.

In its charter, the WAF asserts that it is “committed to protecting and promoting the rights of women by countering all forms of oppression” by being a consciousness‐raising group and acting as a lobby and pressure group, in order to create a heightened awareness of women’s rights and mobilize support for promoting these rights and “counter adverse propaganda against women.” The WAF has played a central role in the public exposure of the controversy regarding various interpretations of Islamic law, its role in a modern state, and ways in which women can play a more active role in political matters.

The WAF’s first major political action was in early 1983 when members in Lahore and Karachi openly marched in protest against the Majlis‐i Shūrā’s (Consultative Assembly) recommendation to President Zia that he promulgate the Qānūn‐i Shahādat (Law of Evidence). As initially proposed, the law would require oral testimony and attestation of either two male witnesses or that of one male and two females; the witness of two or more females without corroboration by a male would not be sufficient, and no testimony by a woman would be admissible in the most severe ḥudūd cases (cases that require mandatory punishments for crimes against Allāh) as stipulated in the sunnah. A revised evidence law, eventually promulgated in October 1984 following nearly two years of protests, modifies the one previously enacted during the British Raj.

WAF members used Islamic precepts as the basis of their protest. They argued that the proposed Qānūn‐i Shahādat was not the only acceptable evidence law in Islam, and that there is only one instance in the Qur’ān (surah al‐Baqr, 2.282) in which two women are called to testify in the place of one man. But, they contended, the latter was in regard to a specific financial matter and the role of the second woman was to remind the first about points that she may have forgotten. The intent (nīyah) of the law must be taken into consideration, as it was initially intended to help women and not discriminate against them. The protesters claimed that criteria for witnesses as stated in the Qur’ān are possession of sight, memory and the ability to communicate; as long as witnesses have these, testimony should be equally weighed regardless of gender. They also argued that the rigid interpretation of the Qur’ān that would support the Qānūn‐i Shahādat (reading “male” for the generic word “man”) would virtually exclude women from being members of the religion. Opponents of the evidence law also feared that women might be restricted from testifying in certain kinds of ḥudūdcases at all, such as when a woman is the sole witness to her father’s or husband’s murder.

The final adopted version restricts to financial cases the testimony of two women being equal to that of one man; in other instances, acceptance of a single woman’s testimony has been left to the discretion of the judge. Even though the final evidence law was modified substantially from the initial proposal, the WAF held the position that the state’s declaring a woman’s evidence in financial cases unequal to that of a man’s would constrain women’s economic participation and was symbolic of an ideological perspective that could not perceive women as equal economic participants with men. They argued that for the first time in Pakistan’s history, the laws regard men and women as having different legal rights, and, despite the rhetoric that such laws were being promulgated to protect women, they were indeed constraining women’s power and participation in the larger society.

At protests in Lahore and Karachi in February 1983, women demonstrators were attacked by police, prompting much public outcry. The WAF’s lawyers countered the martial law government’s actions on Islamic grounds by claiming that the police, as unrelated men, had no right to physically touch the protesting women.

In fall 1983, the WAF and other women’s groups organized demonstrations throughout the country to protest both the Qānūn‐i Shahādat and the public flogging of women. The following year, in 1984, the now separate WAF groups mounted a campaign against the promulgation of the proposed Qiṣāṣ and Dīyat (Retaliation and Blood Money) Ordinance, which stated that the compensation to the family of a female victim be only half that given to the family of a male victim.

In the aftermath of the lifting of martial law in December 1985, the WAF became instrumental in organizing protests (which included nearly thirty other groups) in the wake of the debate over the Shariat Bill and the Ninth Amendment. WAF argued that in their proposed forms, both negated principles of justice, democracy, and fundamental rights of citizens, and that their passage would give rise to sectarianism and serve to divide the nation. The remaining years of the Zia regime (until fall 1988) found WAF members focussed on protesting against the Ninth Amendment, instituting legal aid cells for indigent women, opposing the gendered segregation of universities, and playing an active role in condemning the growing incidents of violence against women and bringing them to the attention of the public.

During the tenure of Benazir Bhutto’s Pakistan People’s Party’s first government (December 1988–August 1990), the WAF was faced with the difficult task of transforming itself from a protest movement based on a collective moral conscience to an advocate, lobbying a more sympathetic government. With the displacement of that government, it then focussed its activities on three goals: to secure women’s political representation in the parliament; to work to raise women’s consciousness, particularly in the realm of family planning; and to counter suppression and raise public awareness by taking stands and issuing statements on events as they occur.

Women’s Movements

Muslim women’s participation in social movements and the emergence of women’s associations, leagues, and organizations are closely related to the debates over women’s status that emerged in the nineteenth century and continue today. These debates also fuel much of the discourse of the Islamist phenomenon, in which millions of Muslim women participate. Their involvement and articulation have varied greatly according to the challenges of the time, ranging from a general debate responding to the views and publications of reform‐minded individuals to mobilized groups of women actively engaged in particular nationalist, feminist, conservative, or philanthropic activities.

From the mid‐nineteenth century onward, women and men began to discuss societal reform and its appropriate direction within Islam. Conceptions of Islamic reform were responsive to Western colonialism, which influenced Muslim lands in differing degrees. Both women and men questioned the legal and social restrictions on women, especially in regard to women’s rights to education, female seclusion (known as purdah in the Indian subcontinent), strict veiling of the face, polygamy, women’s slavery and in some cases concubinage. Egyptian male reformers wrote on women’s behalf, among them Aḥmad Fāris al‐Shidyāq, author of One Leg Crossed Over the Other (1855); Rifā῾ah Rāfi῾ al‐Ṭahṭāwī (1801–1871); Muḥammad ῾Abduh (1849–1905), a founder of the Salafīyah (Islamic reform) movement; Qāsim Amīn, whose book Women‘s Emancipation (1899) unleashed furious discussion; and Luṭfī al‐Sayyid, publisher of Al‐jarīdah. Turkish counterparts included Namık Kemal and Ahmet Mithat.

Educated women, such as Wardah al‐Yāzijī and Wardah al‐Turk in Syria and ῾Ā’ishah al‐Taymūrīyah in Egypt began writing to each other in the 1860s and 1870s, as women later did for women’s publications regarding reform for women. As part of a growing women’s press, Hind Nawfal (1860–1920), a Syrian immigrant to Alexandria, published and edited Al‐fatāh, a women’s Arabic monthly; Zaynab Fawwāz (1860–1914), who immigrated from Tibnin to the same city, founded the newspaper Al‐Nīl in 1891.

In Turkey early feminists included the well‐known Halide Edib Adıvar (1883–1964) and Fatma Âliye Hanım (b. 1862), who published Nisvani İslam and A Newspaper for Ladies. In this period women in various Muslim countries were also involved in the establishment of schools for girls. Somewhat earlier, some Iranian women had participated in the Bābi movement, an offshoot of Shiism, whose leaders included Rustamah and the martyr Qurrat al‐῾Ayn (1815–1851), who appeared unveiled and preached against polygamy and the veil. In Indonesia a famous advocate of women’s education and emancipation was Raden Adjeng Kartini (1879–1904). She wrote and founded a school for daughters of Javanese officials, becoming most influential after her death.

Women also engaged in philanthropy and in nationalist movements. Both impulses instructed women in social mobilization and eventually gave rise to associations run for and by women. In Iran, women took part in the Tobacco Rebellion and subsequently in the Constitutional Revolution (1908) and its aftermath, when mainly upperclass women organized separate anjumans (political societies) seeking education and the right to vote.

Not all nationalist leaders or Muslim reformers supported female emancipation. Muṣṭafā Kāmil (1874–1908) and Ṭal῾at Ḥarb in Egypt opposed the end of veiling, and in 1882, Sayyid Aḥmad Khān of India felt that purdah should be maintained and female education postponed. Throughout the twentieth century some leaders characterized working women as a social drain and saw changes in women’s status as attacks on the role of homemaker. Often the primacy of the national struggle forced feminist issues onto the back burner. Examples are Egyptian and Iranian women’s quest for the vote, and during the Palestinian and Algerian national struggles.

Meanwhile, women’s participation in nationalist movements eroded the preexisting custom of female seclusion, allowing women into various public forums. Upper‐class women ventured to meetings in elite salons—Eugenie Le Brun’s in Egypt, and later to the literary salon of May Ziada. Women’s gatherings included lecture sessions, study groups, demonstrations, and formal associations. Individuals became well known; Hudā Sha῾rāwī (1879–1947), for example, became a symbol of feminist activism. [See the biography of Sha῾rāwī.]

Philanthropic activities of elite and middle‐class women actually formed the basis for the Egyptian state’s social services and demonstrated women’s managerial expertise. In Palestine, after the dispersal of the Palestinian people in 1948, middleclass women conducted relief efforts until the establishment of UNRWA refugee camps and facilities. In exile and at home, charitable associations formed the major focus for Palestinian women’s organized activities until the 1967 war. Women’s interest in social services later translated into participation in developmental programs, such as the Bangladesh Jatiyo Mahila Sangshtha (National Women’s Organization), which coordinated programs under official sponsorship.

Nationalist movements and the new states that emerged in the postwar period perceived women and gender issues as crucial to social development. Atatürk of Turkey, Reza Shah of Iran, and later Habib Bourguiba of Tunisia, leaders with unassailable nationalist credentials, initiated new policies to reform women’s status and weaken the power base of the ῾ulama‘. A state‐advocated feminism emerged but was never fully articulated. Turkish and Iranian reforms from above attacked the veil (or head scarf). Later amendments in Iran, Tunisia, and Egypt addressed various areas of personal status, including divorce, child custody, women’s rights to the family home, and alimony, as did the Family Law ordinance (1961) in West and East Pakistan. The modern states assumed control over education. State policies enabled groups of women to enter a male‐dominated political sphere and professions previously closed to women, although the same policies may have caused a popular and religious aversion to state intervention in gender matters. [See Family Law.]

Muslim women who gained most from state advocated feminism mainly benefited as individuals. Many conformed to Muslim and cultural expectations of powerful women, postponing their careers until middle age and often succeeding through strong familial connections and influence. A small group of powerful older women have dominated official political life and associations in many Muslim countries. Family connections could heighten state control over women’s associations, as in Iran, where Ashraf Pahlavi headed the Higher Council of Women’s Organizations. Women in political life have been criticized for their elite origins, their patronizing attitude toward lowerclass women, and their inability to discard male‐patterned modes of operation or to shed the influence of sharī῾ah. This criticism is made for example in Pakistan, although small groups such as the WAF (Women’s Action Forum) attempted unsuccessfully, to turn the tide (Ayesha Jalal, “The Convenience of Subservience,” in Kandiyoti, 1991).

Egyptian women were accorded voting rights in 1956, in part as a consequence of advocacy by women’s associations since the early twentieth century. Early activist women’s groups included the Wafdist Women’s Committee, the Egyptian Feminist Union, and the Bint al‐Nīl association, founded in 1951 by Durrīyah Shafīq (Doria Shafik; d. 1975). Women also organized through a wing of Ḥasan al‐Bannā’s Muslim Brotherhood (founded in 1928) and in the Association of Muslim Womenestablished by Zaynab al‐Ghazālī. Those organized by the Islamic leadership wore the veil and eventually adopted a white khimār (head cover). They held that women must preserve their modesty, morals, and loyalty to their role in the home. The Muslim Brotherhood spread from Egypt to Syria, Jordan, the West Bank and Gaza, Libya, and after the suppression of the brotherhood, to the Gulf states. Their gender ideology originally opposed the female vote and coeducation, but it was moderate in comparison to that of the Takfīr wā al‐Ḥijrah, the Jamā῾at al‐Islāmīyah, or the Jihād, secessionist and radical groups that more actively opposed secular governments. [See Muslim Brotherhood; and the biographies of Shafīq and Ghazālī.]

Women were involved in the resistance movements of North Africa. In Algeria, the FLN (National Liberation Front) incorporated women in its rebellion against French authority. The Front’s conception of Algerian identity linked religion and nationalism. Its leadership was male, but so many men were imprisoned or in hiding that women served as fighters, intelligence operatives, and liaison agents, as well as nursing and supplying fighters. Initially, the veil provided cover, as the French were reluctant to search women, who became increasingly involved in carrying bombs and arms. Later women were imprisoned and tortured, and in the process some became national heroines. However, the postrevolutionary government required the registration of their activities, and many lost benefits and recognition because they were illiterate or because they were designated “civilian” rather than “military” participants. After the revolution the linkage of sharī῾ah with the constitution and suspicion of foreign influence meant that women were harassed in the streets, beaten or secluded, and legal reforms such as the minimum age for marriage were not enforced. With time Islamist parties gained large followings, including women who proposed a more conservative view of gender.

In another area of the Maghrib the Ṣaḥrāwīs, formerly subjects of Spanish colonialism, have lived since 1975 as refugees in the Western Desert. The Polisario, the chief party of the Ṣaḥrāwīs, has sought to diminish gender, race, and class barriers, and women participate in party activities, education, and their own associations, although they are not represented in equal numbers within the party leadership.

In the Omani resistance movement women were also empowered to a degree by the military nature of their engagement. In the former People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen, after the revolution, various official agencies and associations were created for women, but their goal seemed to involve the economic wellbeing of the state more than a reform of gender inequities. Nonetheless, reforms were enacted that fostered women’s education and increased their participation in the work force.

In Iraq, and Syria, women’s associations are wings of the Ba῾th party. A state feminism chiefly proposes liberation through education and is thus unable to translate its goals successfully or equally for all classes of society. In Syria, uniformed high school girls serve as clean‐up crews in villages and participate in youth leagues, but they are still encouraged to marry early and to enter “female” professions such as teaching. Women have been important in religious opposition groups in Syria, including the outlawed Muslim Brotherhood. When Sunnī urban women adopted the ḥijāb(Islamic dress), some were met by officially organized demonstrations of ῾Alawī Ba῾thī women, who unsuccessfully protested the wearing of ḥijāb in school and work settings. [See Dress; Ḥijāb.]

Women’s participation in student movements has been a feature of Islamic revival in Malaysia, known generally as dakwah (Ar., da῾wah). Dissension has arisen over the increase in veiling, and in response to communal Muslim groups who hold spirituality high and reject traditional careers. Similarly, debate continues over the appropriate level of female participation in the public sphere, ranging from sermons emphasizing a strong Muslim family life to the complete segregation of female dakwah communal members. In Malaysia the gender discussion combines with that one concerning national identity, as the Malay majority coexists with other communities (Chinese, Indian, and aboriginal) who are legally free to observe their own faiths. The religious revival was propagated by several organizations including the Islamic Youth League of Malaysia, Dar ul Arqam, and the more traditional Jemaat Tabligh. Clusters of adherents to revivalist groups form same‐sex “family” groups (usrah), which create horizontal linkages, and solidarity.

In Indonesia the Muhammadiyah organization, begun in 1912, typifies apolitical educational and service activities. The Aisyiyah was the women’s branch of this party, allowing for mobilization beyond the traditional teacher‐peasant dynamic existing in Indonesia as well as Malaysia. [See Muhammadiyah.] After the Sukarno era, religious political parties were banned under Suharto, and the four existing Islamic parties combined into the PPP (Partai Persatuan Pembangunan). Nonetheless, religiosity has been on the rise in Indonesia, along with contemporary Islamic dress. Groups such as the Association of Islamic Students eschew militance but view gender issues as integrally tied to Muslim identity.

The most important locus of Islamist activity in Pakistan has been the Jamā῾at‐i Islāmī and the Tablīghī Jamā῾at. Both propose countering secularization and Western gender identity with a Muslim notion of modesty and piety. With the growth of Islamist parties and persons in politics, disputes over gender issues have increased, including legal debates over whether rape victims can be prosecuted as adulteresses. Veiling and separation of the sexes have continued, though nuanced by the changing fortunes of the various political actors and parties. Many Muslim women’s associations and publications exist, and growing numbers of Islamist or non‐Islamist women are involved in politics.

The emergence of the Islamic Republic of Iran sparked new interest in women’s role in the revolution and response to the Republic’s legislation of gender. Many women, Islamist and non‐Islamist, had been involved in opposition to Shah Muhammad Reza Pahlavi. However, when the government imposed Islamic dress and removed women from legal, judicial, and other offices, many Iranians fled. Nonetheless, women actively participated in the Mujāhidīn‐i Khalq, an organization of Marxist‐Islamic orientation not fully defeated in Iran until 1981–1982. A patrol and information division called the Zaynab Sisters and other women’s associations began operating in Iran. Despite Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini’s ideology of domesticity for women, they worked in higher numbers in the 1980s than ever before, probably owing to the impact of the Iran‐Iraq war (Moghadam, 1988).

The islamization of Muslim society on both organized and informal planes heightened throughout the Muslim world in the 1980s. Women were fully involved in the process, whether because of familial loyalties, peer pressure—particularly in high schools and universities—or because they were recruited by Islamist groups. The tensions arising from young women’s participation in Islamism were often related to a generational and ideological gap. For example, in the Sudan, where women were active in one of the strongest Communist parties in the region, reversals in the public sphere have been marked. Liberal Islamist groups such as the Republican Brothers and Sisters were repressed, and gender policies are now far more conservative.

In some areas, nationalist and Islamist goals interact and mobilize women, as among the Shī῾īs of southern and eastern Lebanon. Necessity impelled many women to make use of political networks in the absence of their imprisoned or fighting men. Women resisted the Israeli occupiers when possible and were harrassed, attacked, and arrested in return. Most adopted the ḥijāb and an actively anti‐Western stance in reaction to the Israeli occupation and in order to assert communal identity.

Women were crucial to the waging of the intifāḋah in the occupied West Bank and the Gaza Strip. Their participation was both at the grassroots level and through the four women’s committees of the PLO, founded in 1981, which have sponsored economic, health, and political projects. These committees and the General Union of Palestinian Women’s Associations in diaspora include both Muslim and Christian women. Much tension has arisen between these activist women and supporters of Ḥamās and Islamic Jihād, with a virtual imposition of the ḥijāb in Gaza and campaigns attacking unveiled women elsewhere.

With global migration, large groups of Muslim women are now living outside historically Muslim lands. Some have begun to organize, as in the North American Association of Muslim Women(founded 1992). Certain secularist, feminist, and anti‐Islamist organizations should also be mentioned: one is the Arab Women’s Solidarity Association (dissolved in Egypt in 1992 in response to Islamist pressure); others based outside the region are the Women Against Fundamentalism in Britain, made up of Muslim, Hindu, and English women, which developed from the anti‐racist movement, and the Network of Women Living under Muslim Laws, based in southern France.

Women’s Movements

Muslim women’s participation in social movements and the emergence of women’s associations, leagues, and organizations involved in nationalist, charitable, gender-centered, political, economic, or religious activities began in the nineteenth century and continued into the twenty-first. Important debates over women’s status first emerged in the nineteenth century. These debates concerning the education, segregation, and full veiling of certain women expanded to other aspects of women’s roles in public life, affording them greater opportunities in a gradual fashion, especially for upper-class women and in combination with state-led reforms. With the rise of Islamism, a response to the earlier modernist view of sex-role expansion and reform arose, as well as a new activism by some Islamist women. Also, women continued organized efforts to reform family, criminal, and commercial laws as well as cultural practices affecting women. With the burgeoning number of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) in the 1990s, more emphasis on activities and agendas for women was included.

The Nineteenth Century.

From the mid-nineteenth century onward, women and men began to discuss the need for social, educational, and political reform. Muslim women’s oppression was an area requiring reform; hence, debate about women and gender relations among Muslims also rang with overtones concerning the role of the West in the Muslim world. Certain women and men questioned the legal and social restrictions on women, especially with regard to education, female seclusion (known as purdah in the Indian subcontinent), strict veiling of the face, polygamy, the marriage of very young women to much older men by family arrangement, women’s slavery, and, in some cases, concubinage. Egyptian male reformers wrote on women’s behalf, among them Aḥmad Fāris al-Shidyāq, author of One Leg Crossed Over the Other (1855); Rifāʿah Rāfiʿ al-Ṭahṭāwī (1801–1871); Muḥammad ʿAbduh (1849–1905), a founder of the Salafīyah (Islamic reform) movement; Qāsim Amīn, whose book Women‘s Emancipation (1899) unleashed furious discussion; and Aḥmad Luṭfī al-Sayyid, publisher of l-jarīdah. Turkish counterparts included Namık Kemal and Ahmet Mithat.

Educated women, such as Wardah al-Yāzijī and Wardah al-Turk in Syria and ʿĀʿishah al-Taymūrīyah in Egypt, began writing to each other in the 1860s and 1870s regarding reform for women, as women later did for women’s publications. As part of a growing women’s press, Hind Nawfal (1860–1920), a Syrian immigrant to Alexandria, published and edited al-fatāh, a women’s Arabic monthly; Zaynab Fawwāz (1860–1914), who immigrated from Tibnin to the same city, founded the newspaper al-Nīl in 1891. Persian women also began writing and publishing women’s journals, the earliest being Danesh (1907).

In Turkey, early feminists included the well-known Halide Edib Adıvar (1883–1964) and Fatma Âliye Hanım (b. 1862), who published Nisvani İslam and A Newspaper for Ladies. During this period, women in various Muslim countries began to establish schools for girls. Somewhat earlier, some Iranian women had participated in the Bābī movement, an offshoot of Shiism; its leaders included Rustamah and the martyr Qurrat al-ʿAyn (1815–1851), who appeared unveiled and preached against polygamy and the veil. In Indonesia a famous advocate of women’s education and emancipation was Raden Adjeng Kartini (1879–1904). She wrote and founded a school for daughters of Javanese officials, becoming most influential after her death.

The Effect of Nationalist Movements.

Women also engaged in philanthropy and in nationalist movements. Both impulses instructed women in social mobilization and gave rise to associations run for and by women. In Iran, women took part in the Tobacco Rebellion and subsequently in the Constitutional Revolution (1908) and its aftermath, when mainly upper-class women organized separate anjumans (political societies), seeking education and the right to vote.

However, leaders and reformers such as Muṣṭafā Kāmil (1874–1908) and Tṣalʿat Ḥarb in Egypt opposed the end of veiling, and in 1882, Sayyid Aḥmad Khān of India asserted that purdah should be maintained and female education postponed. As women gained the right to professional educations and entered the work force, some twentieth-century discourse characterized working women as a social drain or, in those instances where women worked with men, as a source of potential immorality. Often the primacy of the national struggle forced feminist issues onto the back burner. Examples were the later arrival of female suffrage in various countries, which all but Saudi Arabian women have now attained, and the primacy of national over gender issues in the Palestinian and Algerian national struggles. However, Palestinian women’s activism provided important links to popular needs. It was paralleled by the organizing of Islamist women, especially after the Oslo peace process.

Women’s participation in nationalist movements eroded the preexisting custom of female seclusion, allowing women into various public forums. Upper-class women in the early twentieth century ventured to meetings in elite salons—Eugénie Le Brun’s in Egypt, and later to the literary salon of May Ziyada. Women’s gatherings included lecture sessions, study groups, demonstrations, and formal associations. Individuals became well known; Hudā Shaʿrāwī (1879–1947), for example, became a symbol of feminist activism. [See SHAʿRāWī, HUDā.]

Philanthropic activities of elite and middle-class women actually formed the basis for the Egyptian state’s social services and demonstrated women’s managerial expertise. In Palestine, after the dispersal of the Palestinian people in 1948, middle-class women conducted relief efforts until the establishment of UNRWA refugee camps and facilities. In exile and at home, charitable associations formed the major focus for Palestinian women’s organized activities until the 1967 war. Women’s interest in social services later translated into participation in developmental programs, such as the Bangladesh Jatiyo Mahila Sangshtha (National Women’s Organization), which coordinated programs under official sponsorship.

Postwar State Feminism.

Nationalist movements and the new states that emerged in the post–World War I period perceived women and gender issues as crucial to social development. Atatürk of Turkey, Reza Shah of Iran, and later Habib Bourguiba of Tunisia, leaders with unassailable nationalist credentials, initiated new policies to reform women’s status and weaken the power base of the ʿulamāʾ. These actions were controversial, as were, in Afghanistan, Amānullāh Khan’s reforms of the family code in 1921, the banning of polygamy for state employees, and the public appearance of his wife, Queen Suraya, unveiled. Turkish and Iranian reforms from above also attacked the veil (or head scarf). Later amendments in Iran, Tunisia, and Egypt addressed various areas of personal status, including divorce, child custody, women’s rights to the family home, and alimony, as did the Family Law ordinance (1961) in West and East Pakistan. State-controlled education and laws provided women with at least a basic education. State policies enabled groups of women to enter the male-dominated political sphere and professions previously closed to women, although the same policies may have caused a popular and religious aversion to state intervention in gender matters. [See FAMILY LAW.]

Muslim women who gained most from state-advocated feminism primarily benefited as individuals. As marriage remained essential to women’s status, many postponed their careers, often succeeding through strong familial connections and influence. A small group of powerful older women have dominated official political life and associations in many Muslim countries. Family connections could heighten state control over women’s associations, as in Iran, where Ashraf Pahlavi headed the Higher Council of Women’s Organizations. Women in political life might promote women’s issues, but they and some activists were often isolated from lower-class women, who did not necessarily favor changes to current practices, such as the suggested reduction of mahr (bride price), or the listing of the bride’s property, or the insertion of stipulations in marriage contracts, or, in Egypt, the custom of female circumcision.

Egypt.

Egyptian women were accorded voting rights in 1956, in part as a consequence of long-term advocacy, but also through unprecedented public activism under Durrīyah Shafīq (1908–1975), who was later ill-regarded by the Nasser regime. Early activist women’s groups included the Wafdist Women’s Committee, the Egyptian Feminist Union, and the Bint al-Nīl association. Women also organized through a wing of Ḥasan al-Bannā’s Muslim Brotherhood (founded in 1928) in the Association of Muslim Women established by Zaynab al-Ghazālī. These Islamist women wore the veil and eventually adopted a white khimār (head cover). They held that women must preserve their modesty, morals, and loyalty to their role in the home. The Muslim Brotherhood spread in the Arab world, opposing the female vote and coeducation in the 1950s, but later proposing reform of women’s status in an Islamic manner.

Algeria.

Women were involved in the resistance movements of North Africa. In Algeria, the National Liberation Front (FLN) incorporated women in its rebellion against French authority. The Front’s conception of Algerian identity linked religion and nationalism. Its leadership was male, but so many men were imprisoned or in hiding that women served as fighters, intelligence operatives, and liaison agents, as well as in nursing and supply operations. Initially, the veil provided cover, as the French were reluctant to search women, who became increasingly involved in carrying bombs and arms. Later, women were imprisoned and tortured, and in the process some became national heroines. However, the post-revolutionary government required the registration of their activities, and many lost benefits and recognition because they were illiterate or because, as women, they were designated “civilian” rather than “military” participants. After the revolution the linkage of sharīʿahwith the constitution and suspicion of foreign influence meant that women were harassed in the streets, beaten, or secluded, and legal reforms such as the minimum age for marriage were not enforced. With time Islamist parties gained large followings, including women who proposed a more conservative view of gender. During the 1990s, feminists and women not wearing ḥijāb came under attack.

Oman and Yemen.

In the Omani resistance movement, women were also empowered by the military nature of their engagement. In the former People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen, after the revolution, various official agencies and associations were created for women, but their goal was the economic well-being of the state rather than a reform of gender inequities. Nonetheless, reforms were enacted that fostered women’s education and increased their participation in the work force.

Iraq.

In Iraq, prior to World War I, Jamil Sidqi al-Zahawi wrote an attack on veiling and women’s treatment under Sharīʿah that caused a scandal. A small elite group of feminists were active in King Faysal’s era, and the Iraqi Communist Party promoted an agenda for women. Later, in both Iraq and Syria, the Baʿth Party featured women’s associations. These movements were not able to translate their goals successfully or equally to all classes of society.

In post-Saddam Iraq, many international projects that aimed to provide income or other aid to women were interrupted by violence. Kidnappings and attacks on women forced many into exile, or to cease attending school, and many adopted the ḥijāb out of fear of attacks, when unveiled women, those driving, and some with businesses were targeted. Iraqi women successfully prevented a law that would require them to attend family courts of their own sect. A small women’s movement is offset by politicians who argue for Islamist interpretations of the law.

Syria.

In Syria, uniformed high-school girls serve as clean-up crews in villages and participate in youth leagues, but they are still encouraged to marry early and to enter “female” professions such as teaching. Women have been important in religious opposition groups within Syria, including the outlawed Muslim Brotherhood. When urban Sunnī women adopted the ḥijāb, some were met by officially organized demonstrations of ʿAlawī Baʿthī women, who unsuccessfully protested the wearing of ḥijāb in school and work settings. See DRESS and ḤIJāB.]

Malaysia.

Women’s participation in student movements has been a feature of Islamic revival in Malaysia, known generally as dakwah (Ar., daʿwah). Dissension arose over the increase in veiling, particularly when universities required it. Similarly, debate continues over the appropriate level of female participation in the public sphere, ranging from sermons emphasizing a strong Muslim family life, to the complete segregation of female dakwah communal members, to the activism of other women such as those in the Sisters of Islam. In Malaysia the gender discussion combines with concerns of national identity, as the Malay majority coexists with other communities (Chinese, Indian, and aboriginal) who are legally free to observe their own faiths. The religious revival was propagated by several organizations, including the Islamic Youth League of Malaysia, Dar ul Arqam, and the more traditional Jemaat Tabligh. Clusters of adherents to revivalist groups had formed same-sex “family” groups (usrah). Islamization, including that of the laws in some areas, has continued.

Indonesia.

In Indonesia the Muhammadiyah organization, begun in 1912, typifies apolitical educational and service activities. The Aisyiyah was the women’s branch of this party, allowing for mobilization beyond the traditional teacher-peasant dynamic existing in Indonesia as well as Malaysia. [See MUHAMMADIYAH.] After the Sukarno era, religious political parties were banned under Suharto, and the four existing Islamic parties combined into the Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (PPP). Nonetheless, religiosity has been on the rise in Indonesia, along with contemporary Islamic dress. Groups such as the Association of Islamic Students eschew militancy, but view gender issues as integrally tied to Muslim identity. At the same time, the women’s wings of Nahdlatul Ulama, Fatayat, and Muhammadiayah, Nasyiatul Aisyiyah, are challenging traditional Islamic teachings about gender in favor of contextualized reinterpretations that expand women’s rights.

Pakistan.

The most important locus of Islamist activity in Pakistan, prior to the emergence of al-Qaʿida and the Taliban, was the Jamāʿat-i Islāmī and the Tablīghī Jamāʿat. Both proposed countering secularization and Western gender identity with a Muslim notion of modesty and piety. With the growth of Islamist parties and persons in politics, disputes over gender issues increased, including legal debates over whether rape victims can be prosecuted as adulteresses. Veiling and separation of the sexes have continued, though nuanced by the changing fortunes of the various political actors and parties, with al-Qaʿida supporters calling for much stricter regulations on women. The 2007 assassination of Benazir Bhutto, a turning of the political tide against the Musharraf regime, and post-9/11 concern over radicalism could portend more support for women’s issues and groups supporting them.

Iran.

The emergence of the Islamic Republic of Iran sparked new interest in women’s role in the revolution and response to the Republic’s legislation of gender. Many women, Islamist and non-Islamist, had been involved in opposition to Shah Muhammad Reza Pahlavi and had protested the Western commodification of women. However, when the government imposed Islamic dress and removed women from legal, judicial, and other offices, many Iranians fled. Nonetheless, women actively participated in the Mujāhidīn-i Khalq, an organization of Marxist-Islamic orientation not fully defeated in Iran until 1981–1982. A patrol and information division called the Zaynab Sisters and other women’s associations began operating in Iran. A penal and family code revised along Islamic lines was imposed, but women, though now excluded from holding judgeships and other positions, kept alive a debate about fairer treatment of women under the law. Women parliamentarians in the Sixth Majlis challenged certain discriminatory laws, but these eleven women were banned from running for office in the Seventh Majlis, which included only conservative female figures and reversed some legal reforms. Between 2003 and 2007 an Iranian movement for women’s rights reasserted itself in the One Million Signatures and Abolish Stoning Forever campaigns.

Sudan.

The Islamization of Muslim society, both organized and informal, increased in the 1980s. Womenwere fully involved in the process, whether by personal choice, familial loyalties, or active recruitment. For example, in Sudan, where women had been active in one of the strongest Communist parties in the region, reversals in the public sphere have occurred. Women’s issues became important to the National Islamic Front as well, and the liberal Islamist group of legal specialists, the Republican Brothers and Sisters, was suppressed.

Lebanon.

In some areas, nationalist and Islamist goals interact and mobilize women, as among the Shīʿī of southern and eastern Lebanon. Necessity impelled many women to make use of political networks in the absence of their imprisoned or fighting men. Women resisted Israeli occupiers when possible and were harassed, attacked, and arrested. Most adopted the ḥijāb and a more actively anti-Western stance in reaction to the Israeli occupation and in order to assert communal identity. In post-war Lebanon, a small reformist women’s movement has campaigned unsuccessfully for an optional civil law of personal status, and successfully against a law permitting reduced sentences for honor-killings. That movement contrasts with the less-organized emphasis on public piety as “women’s jihad” in the Shīʿī community in Beirut.

West Bank and Gaza.

Women were crucial to the waging of the intifāḍah in the occupied West Bank and the Gaza Strip. They participated at the grassroots level and through the four women’s committees of the PLO, founded in 1981, which have sponsored economic, health, and political projects. These committees and the General Union of Palestinian Women’s Associations in diaspora include both Muslim and Christian women. Much tension has arisen between these activist women and supporters of Ḥamās and Islamic Jihad, when attempts were made to impose the ḥijāb in Gaza and elsewhere. Although these attempts were reined in, Islamist women’s associations and agendas have come to parallel the efforts made by non-Islamist women, though they have different aims.

International Trends.

Tensions between transnational feminist goals and those of local groups, whether Islamic feminists or those who disavow a feminist agenda altogether, have continued for over a quarter-century. With global migration, large groups of Muslim women are now living outside historically Muslim lands. Some explicitly Muslim groups have begun to organize, such as the North American Association of Muslim Women (founded in 1992) or the Women’s Islamic Initiative in Spirituality and Equality (launched in 2006), an endeavor of the American Muslim Society for Advancement. Western branches of the longstanding General Union of Palestinian Women did not deal with specifically Muslim issues but with national ones. A Muslim feminist group in France, Ni Putes Ni Soumises (Neither Whores nor Repressed), organized to battle violence against women, obligatory ḥijāb-wearing, and forced marriage—thus, some say, enacting the French New Right’s agenda.

Many women’s organizations ranging from Islamic feminist to profession-oriented or human rights groups now exist in Muslim countries. Nawal Saadawi’s Arab Women’s Solidarity Association was dissolved in Egypt in 1992 in response to Islamist and regime pressure, although it continued to exist outside the country. Other issue-oriented groups, such as al-Marʿah al-Jadīdah (The New Woman), the Bint al-Ard (Daughter of the Earth), and the FGM Taskforce, continued to operate. Numerous conferences and events in the region display the activities of gender-oriented NGOs, among them the Turkish-based Women for Women’s Human Rights working on the issue of sexual rights, which the group defines as the proper focus for women’s rights. Some attention has also been given to women mujahidāt and shahīdāt, or suicide bombers, in various incidents from Iraq to Jordan to Palestine, as a social phenomenon.

Women in Politics

Throughout Islamic history, women have been actively involved in politics in Muslim societies. During the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, their engagement evolved through several intertwined and overlapping phases: debates over the discursive interpretation of Islamic texts dealing with women’s rights, women’s participation in nationalist struggles and modern political violence against occupying forces, state-sponsored feminism, contestation of women’s status following the rise of Islamism in several Muslim states, and women’s involvement in the Arab Spring. Important debates over women’s rights in Islam first emerged in the nineteenth century. Male and female reformers disputed the narrow orthodox interpretation of Islamic passages and history that was often used to legitimize women’s exclusion from education and full veiling. These debates expanded to other aspects of women’s roles in public life, affording them greater opportunities in a gradual fashion, especially for upper-class women and in combination with state-led reforms. As such, beginning in the nineteenth century and continuing into the twenty-first century, women participated in social movements and organizations involved in nationalist, charitable, gender-centered, political, economic, or religious activities. With the rise of Islamism came a reaction to the earlier modernist view of sex-role expansion and reform, as well as a new activism by some Islamist women. Also, women continued organized efforts to reform laws as well as social practices affecting women’s rights. In the early twenty-first century, women played a remarkable role in the massive wave of political revolts that have swept the Arab world and are continuing to consolidate the role of women in rebuilding their nations.

The Nineteenth Century.

From the mid-nineteenth century onward, women and men began to discuss the need for social, educational, and political reform. Western colonialist figures had highlighted Muslim women’s oppression as an area requiring reform; hence, debates about women and gender relations among Muslims also raised questions concerning the role of the West in the Muslim world. Several intellectuals and social reformers questioned the legal and social restrictions on women, especially in regard to education, female seclusion (known as purdah in the Indian subcontinent), strict veiling of the face, polygamy, the marriage of very young women to much older men by family arrangement, and enslavement of women.

Discussions of women’s involvement in politics began in the form of discursive engagements among contending interpreters of the Islamic scriptures. The aim was to challenge the exclusion of women from politics and declare it against the principles of Islam. Citing accounts of female leadership in the Qurʾān, such as the queen of Sheba, and from Islamic history, such as ʿĀʾishah’s leadership in the Battle of the Camel in 656, they challenged gender-biased interpretations of Islam.

Muslim reformers argued that it was not the tenets of Islam that subordinated women but rather incorrect interpretations of sacred texts. A number of Egyptian male reformers wrote on women’s behalf, among them Aḥmad Fāris al-Shidyāq, author of Leg Over Leg (1855); Rifāʿah Rāfiʿ al-Ṭahṭāwī (1801–1871); Muḥammad ʿAbduh (1849–1905), a founder of the Salafīyah (Islamic reform) movement; Qāsim Amīn, whose book Women’s Emancipation (The Liberation of Women) (1899) unleashed furious discussion; and Aḥmad Luṭfī al-Sayyid, publisher of al-Jarīdah. In Iraq, too, before World War І, Jamil Sidqi al-Zahawi (1863–1936) wrote a controversial attack on veiling and women’s treatment under Sharīʿah. Turkish counterparts included Namık Kemal (1840–1888), Ahmet Mithat (1844–1912), and Halil Hamit, who in 1910 published the book İslam’da Feminizm(Feminism in Islam) in support of women’s suffrage. In Iran, too, several male intellectuals of the 1880s and 1890s took up the cause of women’s rights. Many of them were associates of the famous reformer Jamāl al-Dīn al-Afghānī (1838–1897), among them Mīrzā Malkom Khān (1833–1908), Mirza Aqa Khan Kermani (1854–1886), Shaykh Ahmed Ruhi (1855/56–1896), and Fatḥ ʿAlī Akhūndzādah (1812–1878). These four writers favored women’s emancipation, supported their right to education, and opposed polygamy.

Educated women, such as Wardah al-Yāzijī (1838–1924) and Wardah al-Turk (1797–1874) in Syria and ʿĀʾishah al-Taymūrīyah (1840–1902) in Egypt, began writing to each other in the 1860s and 1870s regarding reform for women, as women later did for women’s publications.

In this period, women in various Muslim countries established schools for girls. Women’s presses also witnessed unprecedented growth. Hind Nawfal (1860–1920), a Syrian immigrant to Alexandria, published and edited al-Fatāh, a women’s Arabic monthly; Zaynab Fawwāz (1860–1914), who immigrated from Tibnin to the same city, founded the newspaper al-Nīl in 1891. Malak Hifni Nassif (1886–1918) wrote under the pen name of Bāḥithat al-Bādīyah (Searcher in the Desert) in the contemporary press criticizing Muslim women’s seclusion. In Iraq, too, a small elite group of feminists were active in the reign of King Faysal (1921–1933).

The first woman to offer a detailed reinterpretation of Islamic texts in favor of women’s rights was probably the Lebanese writer Naẓīrah Zayn al-Dīn in her 1928 book al-Sufūr wa-al-ḥijāb (Unveiling and Veiling), followed in 1929 with a bold response to her critics in al-Fatāh wa-al-shuyūkh (The Girl and the Shaykhs). Persian women also started writing and publishing women’s journals, the earliest being Danesh (1907). In Turkey, early feminists included the well-known Halide Edib Adıvar (1884–1964), Atatürk’s advisor, and Fatma Âliye Hanım (1862–1936), who published in 1896 Nisvan-i İslam (Women of Islam) and regularly contributed articles between 1895 and 1908 to Hanımlara Mahsus Gazete (Ladies’ Own Gazette).

Somewhat earlier, some Iranian women had participated in the Bābī movement, an offshoot of Shiism; its leaders included Rustam-ʿAli (killed in 1850) and the martyr Qurrat al-ʿAyn (1815–1851), who appeared unveiled and preached against polygamy and the veil. In Indonesia a famous advocate of women’s education and emancipation was Raden Adjeng Kartini (1879–1904). She wrote and founded a school for the daughters of Javanese officials, becoming more influential after her death.

Women‘s Participation in Nationalist Struggles and Modern Political Violence.

Early nationalist leaders and reformers like Muṣṭafā Kāmil (1874–1908) and Talʿat Ḥarb (1867–1941) in Egypt were against any idea of women’s emancipation. Similarly, in 1882, Sayyid Aḥmad Khān of India felt that purdah should be maintained and female education postponed. The turn of the century, though, saw a rise in women’s political activity, continuing after World War І.

In Iran, women took part in the Tobacco Rebellion (1890–1892) and in the Constitutional Revolution (1905–1907) and its aftermath, when mainly upper-class women organized separate anjumans(political societies), seeking education and the right to vote. Among the influential women in the Iranian constitutional movement is Bibi Khānoom Astarābādi (1858/59–1921), who in 1907 founded Madreseh Dooshizegan (School for Girls), the first school for girls in the modern history of Iran, and wrote numerous articles in defense of the right of girls to receive universal education. Another leading activist of the period is Sadiqa Daultabadie (1881–1961), who took a strong nationalist stance on political issues and protested very strongly against Iran’s treaty with Britain in 1919.

In Egypt, too, Egyptian women played a key role in the 1919 revolution against the British occupation. The women were led by Safiya Zaghlūl (1878–1946), wife of Wafd Party leader Saʿd Zaghlūl; Hudā Shaʿrāwī (1879–1947), originator of the Egyptian Feminist Union; and Muna Fahmi Wissa. Egyptian women’s participation in the 1919 nationalist movement eroded the custom of female seclusion, allowing women to enter for the first time various public forums. Upper-class women ventured to meetings in elite salons—Eugénie Le Brun’s in Egypt, and later the literary salon of May Ziada (1886–1941). Wafd members’ wives established the Wafdist Women’s Central Committee (Lajnat al-Wafd al-Markazīyah lil-Sayīdat) in 1920, and Hudā Shaʿrāwī was elected president of the committee. The Wafdist Women’s Central Committee solidified links between various women’s associations in Egypt, such as the New Women Society (Jamʿīyat al-Marʾah al-Jadīdah, founded by Shaʿrāwī in 1919), the Society of the Renaissance of the Egyptian Woman (Jamʿīyat Nahḍat al-Sayīdatal-Miṣrīyat), and the Society of Mothers of the Future (Jamʿīyat Ummahāt al-Mustaqbal). The members of the Wafdist Women’s Central Committee were disappointed when Wafdist men did not consult them on a proposal for independence. They published a critique of the Wafdist men’s actions and eventually founded the Egyptian Feminist Union (al-Ittiḥād al-Nisāʾī al-Miṣrī) in 1923.

Palestinian women, too, have a long history of involvement in national political struggles. After the dispersal of the Palestinian people in 1948, middle-class women conducted relief efforts until the establishment of the United Nations Relief and Works Agency (UNRWA) refugee camps and facilities. In exile and at home, charitable associations formed the major focus for Palestinian women’s organized activities until the 1967 war. More recently, women were crucial to the waging of the first and second Intifadas in the occupied West Bank and the Gaza Strip. They participated at the grassroots level and through the four women’s committees of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), founded in 1981, which have sponsored economic, health, and political projects.

Despite women’s active engagement in liberation movements, many observers noted that women’s gain from struggles are disproportional to their effort. Invariably, the primacy of the nationalist struggle forced feminist issues onto the back burner. An example of this is the later arrival of female suffrage in various countries, which all but Saudi Arabian women have now attained. In addition to Egypt’s 1919 revolution, the Algerian liberation struggle, the Omani movement, and the Lebanese resistance are oft-cited cases demonstrating the contradictions between women’s role in and gains from nationalist movements. The Algerian National Liberation Front incorporated women in its rebellion against French authority that lasted from 1954 to 1962. The Front’s leadership was male, but so many men were imprisoned or in hiding that women served as fighters, intelligence operatives, and liaison agents, as well as in nursing and supply operations. Initially, the veil provided cover, as the French were reluctant to search women, who became increasingly involved in carrying bombs and arms. Later, women were imprisoned and tortured, and in the process some became national heroines, but the postrevolutionary government paid only lip service to their heroism. The government required the registration of their activities, and many lost benefits and recognition because they were illiterate or because, as women, they were designated “civilian” rather than “military” participants.

During the Israeli occupation of Lebanon in the 1980s, women were impelled to make use of political networks in the absence of their imprisoned or fighting men. Women resisted the Israeli occupiers when possible and were harassed, attacked, and arrested. Most adopted the ḥijāb and a more actively anti-Western stance in reaction to the Israeli occupation and in order to assert communal identity. In postwar Lebanon, a small reformist women’s movement campaigned unsuccessfully for an optional civil law of personal status, and successfully against a law permitting reduced sentences for honor killings. That movement contrasts with the less-organized emphasis on public piety as “women’s jihād” in the Shīʿī community in Beirut.

The modern nature of political struggles created new and more radicalized roles for women. Womenin several Muslim societies entered the stage of modern political violence by carrying out suicide attacks against occupying forces. Sanaʿa Mehaidli (1968–1985), a member of the Syrian Social Nationalist Party, was the first female suicide bomber. In 1985, Mehaidli blew herself up next to an Israeli convoy during the Israeli occupation of south Lebanon. Since then, female suicide bombings have occurred in places like Afghanistan, Chechnya, Iraq, India, Israel, Lebanon, Pakistan, Palestine, Russia, Sri Lanka, Turkey, and Uzbekistan.

Postwar State Feminism.

Nationalist movements and the new states that emerged in the post–World War I period perceived women’s and gender issues as crucial to modernization. An important element of the regimes’ visions of modernization was the emancipation of women, which was closely integrated with the ideology of Westernization. Atatürk of Turkey, Reza Shah of Iran, and later Habib Bourguiba of Tunisia—leaders with unassailable nationalist credentials—initiated new policies to reform the status of women and weaken the power base of the ʿulamāʾ. The case of Turkey became one of the most discussed issues in the Muslim world, and efforts were made to emulate it in Iran and Afghanistan. Atatürk introduced the 1926 civil code in place of Sharīʿah. Under the new law, polygamy and marriage by proxy were illegal, and women were given equal rights regarding divorce, custody, inheritance, and marriage with non-Muslims. Furthermore, Turkish women were requested to abandon the veil and adopt Western clothes and secular education. These actions were controversial, as were, in Afghanistan, Amānullāh Khan’s reforms of the family code in 1921, the banning of polygamy for state employees, and the public appearance of his wife, Queen Suraya, unveiled.

Later amendments in Iran, Tunisia, and Egypt addressed various areas of personal status, including divorce, child custody, women’s rights to the family home, and alimony, as did the Family Law Ordinance (1961) in Pakistan. State-controlled education and laws provided women with at least a basic education. State policies enabled groups of women to enter the male-dominated political sphere and professions previously closed to them. Egyptian women were accorded voting rights in 1956, in part as a consequence of long-term advocacy, but also through unprecedented public activism by feminists such as Durrīyah Shafīq (1908–1975).

Feminist policies enacted by the state in the name of promoting women’s rights caused popular and religious hostility to state intervention in matters of gender. In several cases, state-sponsored feminism came at the expense of independent feminist movements. In Egypt, following the 1952 coup, the Free Officers associated women’s rights with the aristocratic activities of the Feminist Union and the social agendas of the old regime. Under the new regime, Egyptian feminists such as Durrīyah Shafīq, Inji Aflatun (1924–1989), and Zaynab al-Ghazālī (1917–2005) were imprisoned, and several feminist organizations were dissolved.

Furthermore, Muslim women who gained the most from state-advocated feminism primarily benefited as individuals. Many Turkish female political scientists, who were themselves the products of these reforms, such as Nermin Abdan-Unat, Şirin Tekeli, and Fatima Mansur questioned these benefits. According to them, state-advocated feminism is a purely urban bourgeois phenomenon. It only brought superficial changes and did not reflect any fundamental change in society. In both Iraq and Syria, the Baʿth Party featured women’s associations, yet these movements were not able to translate their goals successfully or equally among all classes of society. Marriage remained essential to women’s status, and thus many postponed their careers.

State-sponsored feminism has also been criticized for empowering a small group of elite older women, who have dominated official political life and associations in many Muslim countries. The elitist background of women in political life meant that women’s issues might be promoted, but the activists were often isolated from lower-class women, who did not necessarily favor changes to current practices, such as the suggested reduction of mahr (the bridegroom’s dower to the bride), the listing of the bride’s property, the insertion of stipulations in marriage contracts, or, in Egypt, the custom of female circumcision.

Not only did state-sponsored feminism introduce superficial solutions to complex problems in many countries, many argue it also heightened state control over women’s associations. In Iran, Ashraf Pahlavi headed the Higher Council of Women’s Organizations. Similarly, Sūzān Mubārak, Egypt’s former first lady, was the head of the National Council for Women’s Rights. Skeptics argue that advancements in women’s political rights were used to cover up political frauds. For instance, the allocation of sixty-four seats for women in Egypt’s 2010 parliamentary election is believed to have enforced the regime’s domination. The majority of the seats—fifty-six out of sixty-four—went to women who were members of the ruling party.

Women and Islamist Politics.

Women have played important roles in various Islamist movements around the world. In Egypt, the Association of Muslim Women was established by Zaynab al-Ghazālī as a female wing of the Muslim Brotherhood. These Islamist women wore the veil and eventually adopted a white khimār(head cover). They held that women must preserve their modesty, morals, and loyalty to their role in the home. The Muslim Brotherhood spread in the Arab world, opposing the female vote and coeducation in the 1950s, but later proposing reforming the status of women in an Islamic manner.

Similar to the Muslim Brotherhood, Jamāʿat al-ʿAdl wa-al-Iḥsān (JSA; the Justice and Charity Society) was the leading Islamist opposition movement to the Moroccan monarchy. The movement was founded by Abdessalam Yassin (1928—2012), the father of Nadia Yassin. Nadia Yassin (1958) headed the female wing of the JSA and emerged as the foremost public leader of the movement. Yassin’s prominent role as a public figure has led to the creation of a wealth of material on her views on woman’s role in governance and public life. In Yassin’s view, the Islamic movement offers real participation for women, because Islam, Yassin forcefully contends, affords women the right to speak and participate in politics at the highest levels.

Women have also been important in religious opposition groups in Syria, including the outlawed Muslim Brotherhood. Among the activists’ tactics in Syria was displaying their Islamic beliefs through wearing ḥijāb and urging other women to follow suit, in a sign of defiance of the state’s secularist policies. When urban Sunnī women adopted the ḥijāb, some were met by officially organized demonstrations of ʿAlawī Baʿthī women, who unsuccessfully protested the wearing ofḥijāb in school and work settings.

In Malaysia, the discussion of gender involves matters of national identity, as the Malay majority coexists with other communities (Chinese, Indian, and aboriginal) who are legally free to observe their own faiths. The religious revival was propagated by several organizations, including the Islamic Youth League of Malaysia, Darul Arqam, and the more traditional Jemaat Tabligh. Clusters of adherents to revivalist groups had formed same-sex “family” groups (usrah). Islamization, including that of the laws in some areas, has continued. Women’s participation in student movements has been a feature of Islamic revival in Malaysia, known generally as dakwah (Ar. daʿwah). Dissension arose over the increase in veiling, particularly when universities required it. Similarly, debate continues over the appropriate level of female participation in the public sphere, ranging from sermons emphasizing a strong Muslim family life, to the complete segregation of female dakwahcommunal members, to the activism of other women such as those in the Sisters of Islam. Sisters of Islam is an Islamic group in Malaysia that advocates for equal rights for women, human rights, and justice within the framework of Islam.

In Indonesia the Muhammadiyah organization, founded in 1912, typifies apolitical educational and service activities. The Aisyiyah was the women’s branch of this party, allowing for mobilization beyond the traditional teacher-peasant dynamic in place in Indonesia as well as Malaysia. After the Sukarno era, religious political parties were banned under Suharto, and the four existing Islamic parties were combined into the Partai Persatuan Pembangunan (PPP). Nonetheless, religiosity has been on the rise in Indonesia, along with contemporary Islamic dress. Groups such as the Association of Islamic Students eschew militancy but view gender issues as integrally tied to Muslim identity.

Like in Indonesia, informal attempts to “Islamize” public spaces by pushing women to private space could be seen in Algeria and Iraq. After the Algerian revolution, the linkage of Sharīʿah with the constitution meant that women were harassed in the streets, beaten, and secluded, and legal reforms such as the minimum age for marriage were not enforced. With time, Islamist parties gained large followings, including women who espoused a more conservative view of gender. During the 1990s, feminists and women not wearing ḥijāb came under attack. In the same vein, in post-Saddam Iraq, many international projects that aimed to provide income or other aid to women were interrupted by violence. Kidnappings and attacks on women forced many into exile, or to cease attending school, and many adopted the ḥijāb out of fear of attacks when unveiled women, those driving, and some with businesses were targeted. In response, the Organization of Women’s Freedom in Iraq (OWFI) was founded in June 2003 by Yanar Mohammed, Nasik Ahmad, and Nadia Mahmood. The organization challenged both Islamic extremism and the American troops’ presence in Iraq. Iraqi women were also successful in blocking a law that would require them to attend the family courts of their own sect.

In Sudan, the Islamization of Muslim society, both organized and informal, increased in the 1980s. Women were fully involved in the process, whether by personal choice, familial loyalties, or active recruitment. Sondra Hale describes in Women Activists of the National Islamic Front—Sudan (1992) the ways in which many Muslim men positioned “their” women, at least temporarily, at the forefront of Sudanese public life, making them in the 1980s among the most visible and active women in Sudan. Women were organizing for the Islamic revolution in the schools, in the nurseries, in the mosques, and in the medical clinics, where most employees are women.

The rise of Islamist movements has sharpened controversies involving women’s legal status and public role. Governments often claim an Islamic character as an affirmation of their independence from Western domination. For instance, the Islamic governments in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, and the Gaza Strip frame their policies as countering secularization and Western gender identity with Muslim notions of modesty and piety. Feminism is viewed as a form of neocolonialism, and calls for women’s rights are accused of encouraging Western intervention. When the Taliban took over Afghanistan’s capital in September 1996, they immediately imposed severe restrictions on Afghan women. They were forbidden to work, leave the house without a male escort, or seek medical help from a male doctor and forced to cover themselves from head to toe. These restrictions were couched within an anti-Western frame and were presented as a defense against what are seen as corrupting Western ideologies and forces.

In Pakistan, the most important locus of Islamist activity, prior to the emergence of al-Qaʿida and the Taliban, was the Jamāʿat-i Islāmī and the Tablīghī Jamāʿat. Both proposed countering Western domination and gender identity with Muslim notions of modesty and piety. With the rise of Islamist parties and individuals in politics, disputes over gender issues increased, including legal debates over whether rape victims can be prosecuted as adulteresses. Veiling and separation of the sexes have continued, though tempered by the changing fortunes of the various political actors and parties, and with al-Qaʿida supporters backing much stricter regulations on women. However, several spectators believe that the 2007 assassination of Benazir Bhutto and the rising concerns over radicalism after 9/11 could mean more support for women’s rights in Pakistan. Their speculations appear overly optimistic in light of the 2012 attempted assassination of Malala Yousafzai. This fourteen-year-old Pakistani girl was targeted and nearly killed by the Taliban for championing education for girls.

In Iran, women, Islamist and non-Islamist, had been involved in opposition to Shah Muhammad Reza Pahlavi and had protested the Western commodification of women. However, when the Islamic Republic imposed Islamic dress and removed women from legal, judicial, and other offices, many Iranians fled. Nonetheless, women actively participated in the Mujāhidīn-i Khalq, an organization of Marxist-Islamic orientation not fully defeated in Iran until 1981–1982. In addition to the Mujāhidīn-i Khalq, a patrol and information division called the Zaynab Sisters and other women’s associations began operating in Iran. A penal and family code revised along Islamic lines was imposed, but women, though now excluded from holding judgeships and other positions, kept alive a debate about fairer treatment of women under the law. Women parliamentarians in the Sixth Majlis (2000–2004)—notable among whom are Jamileh Kadivar and Elahe Kulayi—challenged certain discriminatory laws and struggled to bring the Majlis to pass a bill making Iran a party to the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW). The eleven women of the Sixth Majlis were banned from running for office in the Seventh Majlis, which ended up including only conservative female figures and reversed some legal reforms. Between 2003 and 2007 an Iranian movement for women’s rights reasserted itself in the Abolish Stoning Forever and the One Million Signatures for the Repeal of Discriminatory Laws campaigns. In a blow to these efforts, four of the One Million Signatures’ leaders, Mariam Hossein-khah, Nahid Keshavarz, Jelveh Javaheri, and Parvin Ardalan, were sentenced to jail in 2008 for contributing to banned websites.

In Palestine, the rise of Islamists to power created debates among female activists. Secularist and religious women joined forces in the struggle against Israel but diverged over their attitudes toward Ḥamās and Islamic Jihād. Following the victory of Ḥamās, tension has arisen between liberal activists and conservative women who supported Ḥamās and Islamic Jihād when attempts were made to impose the ḥijāb in Gaza and elsewhere. Although these attempts were thwarted, Islamist women’s associations and agendas have come to parallel the efforts made by non-Islamist women, though they have different aims.

International Trends.

Tensions between transnational feminist goals and those of local groups, whether Islamic feminists or those who disavow a feminist agenda altogether, have continued since the 1980s. With global migration, large groups of Muslim women are now living outside historically Muslim lands. Some explicitly Muslim groups have begun to organize, such as the North American Association of Muslim Women (founded 1992) or the Women’s Islamic Initiative in Spirituality and Equality (launched 2006), an endeavor of the American Muslim Society for Advancement. Western branches of the longstanding General Union of Palestinian Women did not deal with specifically Muslim issues but with national ones. A Muslim feminist group in France, Ni Putes Ni Soumises (Neither Whores nor Repressed), organized to battle violence against women, obligatory ḥijāb wearing, and forced marriage—thus, some say, enacting the French New Right’s agenda.

Many women’s organizations ranging from Islamic feminist to profession-oriented or human-rights groups now exist in Muslim countries. Other issue-oriented groups, such as al-Marʾah al-Jadīdah (The New Woman), the Bint al-Ard (Daughter of the Earth), and Egypt’s female-genital-mutilation task force, operate in Egypt. Numerous conferences and events in the region display the activities of gender-oriented nongovernmental organizations, among them the Turkish-based Women for Women’s Human Rights, working on the issue of sexual rights, which the group defines as the proper focus for women’s rights. Some attention has also been given to women mujahidāt and shahīdāt (suicide bombers), in various incidents from Iraq to Jordan to Palestine, as a social phenomenon.

Women and the Arab Spring.

Women were an integral part of the Arab Spring, which led to political change in Tunisia, Egypt, Yemen, and Libya and which is still playing out in Syria and Bahrain. Women such as Tawakkol Karman, a Yemeni Nobel laureate; Asmaa Mahfouz and Israa Abdel Fattah, Egyptian Internet political activists; and Zainab Hasan Ahmed al-Jumaa, a Bahraini political activist who died during the protests, participated in the demonstrations demanding changes, calling for justice, and fighting for human rights. Muslim and Christian, religiously conservative and liberal, veiled and unveiled women fought courageously despite social norms and faced governmental cruelty. Some women actively participated in agitation or reported and blogged on the situation. Other women supported domestic and economy-sustaining services for protestors and provided logistical support and health care for supporters.

However, there is uncertainty regarding the position of women in the wake of the Arab Spring. In Egypt, Libya, and Yemen, women have been excluded from important decision-making bodies. Egypt’s transitional military council excluded women from the decision-making process, and women won less than 2 percent of seats in the new parliament. Similarly, the Transitional National Council in Libya has given women only a limited role in the formal transition process. In Yemen, the exit of President ʿAlī ʿAbd Allāh Ṣāliḥ was brokered exclusively by men representing the political opposition and the country’s Arab neighbors. Shirin Ebadi, the winner of the 2003 Nobel Peace Prize, published an article in the Wall Street Journal titled “A Warning for Women of the Arab Spring.” In it, Ebadi compares the revolutions of the Arab Spring to the 1979 revolution in Iran, warning that revolutionary men often take advantage of women’s participation during the movements but then neglect them in constructing postrevolutionary orders.

Despite the limited presence of women in the official political structure, the post–Arab Spring period is witnessing a flourishing of grassroots activities of feminists and female political activists. Female activists, though, share among themselves different visions of women’s rights and roles in rebuilding their nations and reshaping their future. The young generation of activists is displaying resilience and determination for change, yet they see no contradiction between national and women’s rights issues. For activists such as Nawara Negm and Dalia Ziada, the younger generation of female activists in Egypt, the general trend of political reform and democratization in the region will protect women’s rights. Meanwhile, older feminists such as Nawāl al-Saʿdāwī prefer to single out women’s rights as a separate issue that should be highlighted and fought for. Skeptics view the failed International Women’s Day march in Tahrir Square in March 2012, the exclusion of women from the formal political structure, and the rise of Islamic groups to power as warning signs that women are being pushed out of the public sphere of political participation and social visibility and forced back into the private, domestic sphere.

Political Activism, Women’s

[This entry contains two subentries:

• HISTORICAL DISCOURSE
• CONTEMPORARY DISCOURSE.]

Historical Discourse

Muslim women’s political activism spans the globe and encompasses numerous individual and collective efforts. For centuries, Muslim women have interpreted scriptures and aḥādīth in ways that they found to be the most representative of men’s and women’s roles as discussed by the Prophet and in the Qurʾān. For example, in 1909, Malak Hifni Nasif, an Egyptian, published al-Nisa’iyyat(Feminist Pieces), a book of essays on women’s rights in relation to Islam.

Beginning in the late 1800s and early 1900s, like their counterparts elsewhere around the globe, Muslim women began rallying for political enfranchisement. Ottoman women’s efforts for enfranchisement began in the late 1800s, and Turkish women were enfranchised in the early 1930s. Syrian women became enfranchised in 1949, Egyptian women in 1957, Kuwaiti women in 2006, and Saudi women are set to become enfranchised in 2015.

Much of Muslim women’s political activism has focused on trying to change personal status laws. For example, in Egypt, the debate concerning reforms to personal status law centered on khulʿ, a type of divorce that, since reforms in 2000, can be initiated by a woman but does not require consent from the husband. Reforms to laws governing khulʿ accompanied a new form of marriage contract that allowed women to make stipulations regarding their dowries, rights, and grounds for divorce. Changes to Morocco’s personal status law in 2004 were the result of a lengthy, calculated effort by many women’s groups to attract the king’s support. The changes incorporated language that states that men and women are equal before the law and that women are human beings rather than dependents. Furthermore, guardianship rights were set, forcible marriage was outlawed, the minimum age for marriage was increased to eighteen, polygyny was highly restricted, divorce was made a right for both men and women, and property was recognized to be that of both spouses.

Iran’s personal status laws were first codified in the early 1930s under Reza Shah Pavlavi as part of his modernization reforms. Reza Shah adopted European codes in most areas of law, but family law was left almost entirely unaltered. Mohammad Reza Shah initiated rights in the 1960s that gave men and women equal access to divorce and child custody rights; such initiatives were supported by women’s rights activists and journals. After the 1979 revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini almost instantaneously instigated a return to Sharīʿah (Islamic) law. Women gradually organized and lobbied for changes to the law in the 1980s and 1990s. Under President Khatami, the Parliament initiated thirty-three bills to address gender-based discrimination. However, the Guardian Council used its veto power or substantially rewrote each of the bills. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s election and rule has only served to radicalize women’s desire for change in Iranian law and society.

The other large focus of women’s activism has been efforts to secure access to education. Many scholars of Islam have adamantly argued that Islam guarantees equal access to religious, theoretical, and technical education for men and women. Such scholars and activists argue that it is governments who have unjustly prohibited women from attending school and justified the prohibition based on incorrect interpretations of Islam. Despite this, United Nations Development Program statistics regarding adult populations demonstrate that, in most Arab states and Muslim majority countries, women are systematically excluded from education or parts of the education process and that women are illiterate at significantly higher rates than men. The reasons given for excluding women from the educational process are many, but two predominant ones are that women are the bearers of culture and family, and, if they are educated, they will cease to want to be mothers, thus signifying the end of culture and kinship, and the idea that education for a woman is not ideal, because a girl who is educated will be difficult to marry off. Nevertheless, attitudes are starting to change in some places, notably the Arab Gulf countries, as educated girls, particularly those who are employed, are considered more desirable marriage partners. Furthermore, many Arab and Muslim cultures are apprehensive about the genders mixing, and the education of girls thus requires coeducational classrooms, costly extra schools, and, generally, mothers appearing in public more often in order to take their female children to school and back. In some countries, including Afghanistan, Yemen, Iraq, and Turkey, families’ (particularly those in rural areas) concerns include a lack of female teachers and poverty, as poor families will typically choose to send sons to school in order for them to acquire the skills necessary to find employment, while keeping their daughters at home to tend to the house, grow crops, and produce handicrafts.

Muslim women around the world have worked to overturn laws and cultural norms that prevent them from obtaining an education. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, elite Ottoman women lobbied the government to allow them to attend university classes, a right that was acknowledged in the 1910s. Beginning in the 1920s and 1930s, modern Turkey and Iran both mandated young girls attend school. In Saudi Arabia, where education is typically gender segregated, girls have staged protests over the unequal facilities, resources, and treatment of girls and boys. Owing to the Taliban’s interpretation of Islam, Afghani girls were banned from attending schools for several years in the 1990s, despite women in 1970s Afghanistan having attended school regularly. Organizations such as the United Nations build schools for girls and try to keep them operational, despite attacks aimed at school-attending girls and their families. Women justify their desire for education based on several interlocking tenets, including that Islam guarantees men and women have equal access to education, that educated women make better mothers, that education helps women to better serve God, and that education allows women to earn money to help support their families.

Women across Muslim countries have coordinated and compared their political activism through the help of nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). Two of the most prominent of these organizations are Women Living Under Muslim Laws, founded in 1984, and the International Muslim Women’s Union, founded in 1996. Muslim women have also joined global causes outside the feminist agenda. Muslim women can be found in NGOs working for humanitarian, environmental, interfaith, and peace causes. With rising educational levels, professional Muslim women can also be found in different executive positions in international organizations.

Contemporary Discourse

Though stereotypes about the passivity or victimization of Muslim women persist, a growing body of scholarship also documents the political activism of Muslim women, their contributions to various political movements, and the gendered impacts of political processes. The turbulence and dramatic changes of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries have affected the Muslim world in different ways, but Muslim women have hardly been passive onlookers. Instead, they have actively taken part in movements (revolution, national liberation, democratization) for social and political change, and they have formed and led their own movements and organizations.

Patterns of women’s political activism vary across the Muslim world, affected by the nature of the state, social class, ethnicity, and ideology. Grievances and demands are also context-shaped, but some common patterns may be identified. One is that at least since the United Nations World Decade for Women (1976–1985), Muslim women have been inspired by the global women’s rights agenda, launching campaigns to improve their legal status and social positions and to ensure that their governments implement the agreements that they have signed (such as the 1979 Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women and the 1995 Beijing Declaration and Platform for Women). Another is that the spread of fundamentalist movements and political Islam has affected women across the Muslim world, generating polemics about the hijab and Muslim family law. A third observable pattern is that women are major contributors to, and participants in, civil society and democracy movements, as they see a democratic polity as both a desirable alternative to authoritarianism and a pathway to their own equality and rights. This essay thus focuses on women’s political activism, and their demands for participation, rights, and equality, in connection with (a) nationalist and revolutionary movements, (b) fundamentalism and political Islam, and (c) civil society, feminism, and democratization.

Women in Nationalist and Revolutionary Movements.

Studies show that nationalist movements and revolutions may be imbued with concepts of inclusion and equality, of modernity and progress, in which case they are often compatible with women’s advancement, rights, and participation. Or they may be infused with cultural defensiveness and nostalgia for a bygone era or invented golden age, in which case they may place on women the burden of reproducing cultural values and traditions through prescribed dress and comportment.

Early-twentieth-century nationalist movements tended to equate women’s seclusion and illiteracy with national backwardness or stagnation. Progress and national integration were advanced via social and educational reforms, the promotion of a national language, and the establishment of a modern nation-state (Moaddel, 2005). Muslim women (as well as non-Muslims) responded enthusiastically to the reform agendas of nationalist, constitutionalist, and revolutionary movements in Egypt, Iran, and Turkey, as well as in the Soviet republics (Jayawardena, 1986; Afary, 1996; Fleischmann, 1999), where women’s rights leaders were advocates of nationalist causes, as well as of women’s advancement. For example, in October 1938 in Cairo, Huda Sharawi and the Egyptian Feminist Union sponsored the Eastern Women’s Conference for the Defense of Palestine (Weber, 2008). The great anticolonial, nationalist, and Third World movements of the mid-twentieth century likewise saw active participation by women, in Algeria, Egypt, Indonesia, Morocco, Tunisia, and elsewhere.

Yet feminist scholars have noted tensions between the goals of women’s rights and those of national liberation. At the first and second Eastern Women’s Congresses (1930 in Damascus, 1932 in Tehran), the hostility of conservative male leaders to feminist demands for political rights and for equality within the family, for instance, forced women leaders to retreat to the more acceptable minimalist demand for access to education. While nationalist leader Kemal Atatürk granted Turkish women the right to vote in 1930, women did not receive the vote in Egypt, Iran, or Syria until much later. Modernization affected many institutions and laws in Muslim-majority countries, but family law remained patriarchal almost everywhere. In law and tradition alike, men were designated the guardians of women, with authority over them. Notions of male domination seeped into nationalist movements, especially as the movements took on a more religious character in the latter part of the twentieth century. The evolution of the Palestinian nationalist movement is a case in point.

Initially, the Palestinian nationalist movement allowed women politically to participate in what became the most secular and democratic movement in the Arab world. In the 1970s Palestinian women’s political activity and participation in resistance groups expanded, be it in Lebanon, the West Bank or Gaza, in universities or refugee camps. During the first Intifada, Palestinian women organized themselves into impressive independent political groups and economic cooperatives. Internationally, the best-known Palestinian women have been the guerrilla fighter Leila Khaled and the diplomat and English professor Hanan Ashrawi—two contrasting examples of roles available to Palestinian women in their movement. The nationalist movement also produced notable writers with feminist consciousness. Samira Azzam and Fadwa Tuqan, for example, combined a critique of patriarchal structures and a fervent nationalism to produce compelling work.

At the same time, the Palestinian movement exalted women as mothers and as mothers of martyrs. During the latter part of the 1980s, another trend emerged among the Palestinians, especially in the impoverished Gaza Strip: Islamist vigilantes insisting that women cover themselves when appearing in public. The frustrations of daily life, the indignities of occupation, and the inability of the secular and democratic project to materialize may explain this shift. What began in the early 1990s as a sophisticated women’s movement that sought feminist interventions in the areas of constitution writing and social policy experienced setbacks toward the end of the decade as the West Bank and Gaza faced Islamization and continued Israeli occupation (Gerner, 2006).

Algerian women have been involved twice in conflicts that have profoundly affected them: the war of liberation in the 1950s and early 1960s, and the civil conflict between Islamists and the state in the 1990s. While their earlier participation was conducted within a nationalist framework, the later struggle was framed as feminist, modernist, and antifundamentalist (Cherifati-Merabtine, 1995; Moghadam, 2011). In the Islamist terror campaign that followed the military’s decision to prevent the Front Islamique du Salut from taking power after the 1991 elections, numerous women and girls were raped or killed and a number of women activists assassinated. Nonetheless, Algerian women formed many new women’s organizations and developed critiques of both state autocracy and political Islam. Throughout the decade, they championed modernity and individual rights while also holding on to the socialist legacy of equality of citizens.

Iranian women were active participants in the 1978–1979 Iranian revolution against the shah’s rule, although in sheer numbers, men dominated the street protests. Many women sided with communist organizations; others with liberal groups or Muslim organizations. It is safe to say that even the Muslim women who initially supported the agenda of Ayatollah Khomeini did not expect the harsh laws, political repression, and systematic discrimination against women that characterized Islamization in the 1980s. Here political Islam overtook and eventually eliminated the liberal nationalism and revolutionary Marxism of the anti-shah coalition.

Fundamentalism, Political Islam, and Women’s Activism.

The rise of Islamic fundamentalism and political Islam has significantly affected women throughout the Muslim world, and women themselves have been divided for and against these movements. Whether seeking state power through force or influencing public policies to take part in governance nonviolently, Islamist movements have been preoccupied with cultural identity and authenticity, and this has had implications for women’s autonomy and range of choices. Women’s crucial role in the socialization of the next generation makes them symbols of cultural values and traditions, and thus they are expected to behave and dress in prescribed ways. Some Muslim women regard this role as an exalted one and gladly assume it, becoming active participants, though rarely ideologues, in Islamist movements. Other women find it an onerous burden, and they resent restrictions on their individuality, mobility, and personal freedoms. Such nonconformist women may rebel in various ways: they may discreetly pursue alternative lifestyles, they may leave the country and settle elsewhere, and/or they may join or form feminist organizations.

The spread of the hijab since the 1980s has been tackled by feminist scholars in different ways. Some, such as Fadwa El Guindi and Arlene MacLeod, emphasize the personal choice and enhanced opportunities for mobility that veiling represents, especially for women of the lower middle class and conservative families. Others, pointing out that veiling is compulsory in some countries (notably Saudi Arabia and Iran) and required by strong social pressure on women elsewhere, have stressed its link to fundamentalism and religious identity among women (see contributions by Margot Badran, Nayereh Tohidi, Binnaz Toprak, Ayesha Imam, and Sondra Hale, among others, in Moghadam, 1994). What is more, such social pressures may take the form of harassment and intimidation by self-styled enforcers of correct religious behavior and public morality, as has occurred in Sudan, Iran, Algeria, Afghanistan, and even within immigrant communities in Europe. In sum, veiling may be regarded as an identity marker of piety, of tradition, or of a distinct cultural or religious group, or it can be seen as a sign of affiliation with political Islam.

Islamization in Iran following the 1979 revolution saw the strengthening or introduction of Muslim family law across the Muslim world, latterly in Malaysia. Holdouts were Afghanistan and the Muslim-majority republics of the Soviet Union, but that changed in the 1990s with the collapse of the communist bloc. There are, of course, women in the Muslim world who embrace Islamic laws, and many of them are related to male Islamists. Indeed, Rachel Rinaldo (2010) shows how Islamic piety can be a resource for Muslim women’s political mobilization in Indonesia. But many women object to the second-class citizenship of women and bias in favor of men within certain interpretations of Islamic law; the harsh penalties for adultery, which women suffer more than men; and the absence of women from political decision making. An early response was the formation of an international solidarity network called Women Living under Muslim Laws (WLUML), which since 1984 has drawn attention to discriminatory family laws and harsh criminal codes; extended solidarity and support to women victims; and promoted legal reform, gender equality, and pluralist politics. In the twenty-first century, Muslim women’s groups from Africa and Asia have worked with the Women’s Learning Partnership for Rights, Development, and Peace (WLP) to promote women’s human rights. Another response has taken the form of “Islamic feminism,” which is an intellectual, theological, and activist project of Muslim women to recoup what they believe to be the essentially egalitarian and emancipatory Qurʾānic message from the patriarchal misinterpretations of the medieval era as well as from the extremist positions of contemporary movements (Mirza, 2006). In Malaysia, the group Sisters in Islam draws on theology and feminist discourses alike to criticize compulsory veiling, polygamy, and women’s subordination. Although its focus is domestic, it works with WLUML and WLP to advance the human rights of all women in the Muslim world.

Civil Society, Feminism, and Democratization.

In the 1990s, studies began to document the expansion of associational life in Muslim-majority countries. This incipient civil society was seen as the result of the aspirations of the growing middle and professional classes, and as a response to global trends. In particular, the UN global women’s rights agenda was a factor in the emergence of all manner of women’s organizations. Preparations for the Fourth World Conference on Women (Beijing, September 1995) and the post-Beijing follow-up helped generate legitimacy and support for the types of women’s organizations that were proliferating: professional associations, women-in-development NGOs, research centers and women’s studies institutes, women-led publishing houses, and women’s rights or feminist organizations. (“Feminism” here refers to a discourse that critiques women’s subordination, calls for women’s participation and rights, and seeks the necessary legal, policy, and cultural changes for gender equality.) Where political pluralism existed, women’s auxiliaries of the major political parties and trade unions also could be found, along with more traditional charitable organizations led by women and official or state-supported women’s organizations. Even in a poor Muslim majority country, such as Mali, women-led credit associations and advocacy groups, such as l’Association Juristes Maliennes and l’Observatoire des Droits de la Femme et de l’Enfant, were formed (Wing, 2002).

The emergence of the newer associations reflected the changing sociopolitical dynamics of women’s activism, with its discourse of women’s participation, human rights, civil society, modernity, citizenship, and democratization. Advocacy became more pointed, with a focus on the need to reform discriminatory family laws and bring them in line with constitutional guarantees of equality, as well as with global standards and trends (e.g., the UN Women’s Convention); to criminalize domestic violence and other forms of violence against women, including “honor crimes,” and prohibit sexual harassment; to grant women equal nationality rights so that their children may acquire citizenship through the mother and not just the father; and to create mechanisms for greater access by women to employment and political decision making.

Strategies to achieve goals included coalition building with other civil-society organizations, appeals to transnational advocacy networks, the study and reinterpretation of Islamic texts, and consensus building to gain elite allies or mobilize grassroots support. Such strategies were used for the removal of the Sharīʿah sentence against a Nigerian woman accused of adultery in the late 1990s; for the right of Egyptian women to a khulʿ divorce, which was won in 2000; for family-law reform in Morocco, which was won in 2003–2004 after a decade-long campaign; for the establishment of counseling centers and hotlines (centres d’écoutes) for women victims of domestic violence and sexual harassment, which are in place in North Africa; for an end to discriminatory family laws and reform of the criminal code to remove stoning in Iran, a campaign launched in 2006 but repressed by the government.

The strategies deployed by activists to advance women’s participation and rights are rarely confrontational and as such differ markedly from the tactics and strategies of many Islamist movements. Since women’s groups tend to have limited leverage and relatively few resources, and since many governments in the Muslim world are authoritarian, consensus building is a reasonable strategic choice, as well as a democratic practice. In fact, many women’s groups call themselves “democratic,” as well as “feminist,” and their practices appear to contribute to the making of democratic society.

The political scientist Yesim Arat (1994) points out that in the 1980s, at a time when Turkey’s civil society was under tight military control, the new feminist movement helped to usher in democratization through campaigns and demands for women’s rights, participation, and autonomy. In her study of the Palestinian women’s movement, Andrea Barron (2002) explains that in the 1990s, the three top priorities for women’s rights advocates were changing the personal status laws, fighting domestic violence, and increasing women’s political participation. The movement was identified as an agent for democracy “because of the substance of its goals—obtaining equal rights for half of Palestinian society—and because of the process it is using to accomplish its objectives.” In particular, Barron cites four “democratic practices” of the movement: (1) establishing an autonomous social movement with strong ties to political society, (2) expanding political participation and knowledge about the laws and customs that affect women, (3) campaigning for equal protection of the laws, and (4) cultivating a democratic political culture that supports pragmatic decision making and respects political differences (Barron, 2002, pp. 80–81). Even after the second intifada emerged, the women’s movement was still regarded as an important national agent of democratization, although it subsequently faced many obstacles.

Yet another example comes from Morocco. When Abdelrahman Yousefi was appointed prime minister in 1998 and formed a progressive cabinet, women’s groups allied themselves to the government in the interest of promoting both women’s rights and a democratic polity (Sadiqi and Ennaji, 2006; Skalli, 2007; Moghadam and Gheytanchi, 2010). Subsequently, Moroccan feminist organizations endorsed the truth and reconciliation commissions that were put in place to assess the repressive years prior to 1998. A number of key Moroccan women leaders previously associated with left-wing political groups (notably Latifa Jbabdi of l’Union d’Action Feminine) gave testimony about physical and sexual abuse (Slyomovics, 2005). More recently, women’s rights groups have helped form a coalition known as the Springtime of Dignity, which includes physician groups, in a new campaign for penal code reform spearheaded by the Association Démocratique des Femmes Marocaines (WLP, 2011). Such activities and strategies demonstrate the democratic and democratizing nature of women’s rights groups.

At the same time, women’s groups are wary of a democratic transition that could bring to power political forces inimical to the rights of women (and minorities). The historical record shows that women can pay a high price when a democratic process that is institutionally weak, or not founded on principles of equality and the rights of all citizens, or not protected by strong institutions, allows a political party advocating patriarchal norms to come to power and immediately institute laws relegating women to second-class citizenship and instituting controls over their bodies and mobility. This was the Algerian feminist nightmare, which is why so many educated Algerian women opposed the Islamist Front Islamique du Salut after its expansion in 1989.

Even before Egypt’s mass protests of 2011, calls were issued for political reform and democracy by the secular Kefaya (Enough) movement, as well as by the Muslim Brotherhood. The latter demanded “the freedom of forming political parties” and “independence of the judiciary system,” which are laudable goals, but also “conformity to Islamic Sharia Law,” which is not conducive to gender equality or the equality of Muslim and non-Muslim citizens in all domains (Brown, Hamzawy, and Ottaway, 2006). After the resignation of President Hosni Mubarak, Egyptian women were excluded from the constitution-writing process, and groups such as the Egyptian Center for Women’s Rights complained regularly, questioning whether Egypt can effect a democratic transition if half the population is excluded from shaping the political process. In Tunisia, where mass protests led to the departure of President Ben Ali, some women were incorporated into the new political process, but many Tunisian feminists, noting that men continue to dominate the emerging institutions, remain skeptical of the agenda of the Islamic parties. Time will tell if the democracy movements in Egypt and Tunisia will result in equality of all citizens—women and men, Muslim and non-Muslim—or if some version of the status quo ante is achieved. What is clear, however, is the democratizing and modernizing nature of women’s rights activism.

Women and Social Protest

[This entry includes two subentries:

• CONTEMPORARY
• HISTORICAL.]

Contemporary

Decisions and policies are made every day, whether by individuals or groups, the private sector, or the government. Although these policies are often made jointly and representatively, this doesn’t guarantee their automatic acceptance by the public. Policy decisions trigger reactions from the public, either pro or con, and responses can occur in various ways and forms. One of those forms is protest, defined as a statement or action, such as a demonstration, that expresses strong disagreement with or opposition to something. In many Muslim-majority countries today, from Africa to the Middle East to Southeast Asia, as well as non-Muslim majority countries in which Muslims have a significant presence, such as throughout Europe and the United States, women are using protests as a means of challenging patriarchal culture and discrimination on the basis of gender, ethnicity, tribe, and religion, and are fighting for their rights—as Muslims, citizens, and women. Some protests are individual efforts; others are led by organizations or politicians. In every case, the perception of a quest for justice of some sort lies at the heart of activism. These efforts have been either rewarded or punished by the state, society, and even families. In some cases, women have been arrested, jailed, beaten, tortured, sexually abused, shot, and even killed in the act of protesting. In others, they have received both national and international awards, including the Nobel Peace Prize. In many cases, outsiders have also protested either in favor of or against women activists, showing that women and social protest is a multidimensional phenomenon requiring analysis not just of the protesters themselves or the causes they espouse but also of the reactions they provoke and the tangible outcomes of all of these types of protest.

Perhaps some of the most prominent 21st-century social protests led and participated in by women were those of the Arab Spring. In Yemen, for example, the journalist and human rights activist Tawakul Karman earned the nickname “mother of the Arab revolution” for her nonviolent protests against the corruption and authoritarianism of President ʿAlī ʿAbd Allāh Ṣāliḥ’s regime, including failure to respect freedom of the press and human rights. Karman’s protests ranged from removing her veil, declaring it to be a matter of tradition rather than religion and a barrier to communication with other people, to founding schools geared toward redressing high rates of female illiteracy, to leading weekly protests against a variety of issues, ranging from the political (regime reform or replacement) to the social (opposing child marriage). In some cases, such as by removing her veil, Karman engaged in individual protest to make her point. In other cases, she successfully mobilized increasingly large cross sections of the population to bring pressure on the government. In both instances, she made it clear that she undertook her protests actively identifying as a Muslim woman and asserting through her own example that Muslim women should be active in the process of social change because of their religion, not despite it. Karman illustrates the capacity of the individual to engage in both personal and collective nonviolent protest. Her work has been rewarded both nationally, with the abdication of President Ṣāliḥ, and internationally, through the International Courageous Women Award in 2010 and the Nobel Peace Prize in 2011.

In Germany, Egyptian-born Marwa El-Sherbini became a tragic symbol of religious hatred in July 2009 when she was murdered by her neighbor. Called the “headscarf martyr,” El-Sherbini was a pharmacist who proudly wore a hijab as a symbol of her faith, despite name-calling and harassment by her neighbor. When she called the police to intervene and in the midst of the court processing her case, her neighbor stabbed her to death, decrying the presence of Muslim immigrants in Germany. He also shot her husband. El-Sherbini’s story received little coverage by the European media, despite clearly having been a documented hate crime. Massive protests against the injustice to El-Sherbini, both by her killing—and the killing of her unborn child (she was three months pregnant)—and by the media, erupted in Egypt and Iran. El-Sherbini represents an individual protesting in favor of something—her right to freedom of religious expression and her right to control her own body and how it is presented to the public—despite harassment. Responses to her death represent collective protest of injustice at the state’s failure to protect her freedom of religious expression, as well as her life.

In the case of Saudi Arabia, much media and government attention has been given to the ban on women driving, with outsiders protesting the ban as discrimination against women and failure to respect their human rights and insiders protesting that the ban is based on culture and tradition rather than religion. Yet Saudi women themselves do not necessarily consider driving as the only or even the most important issue at stake. For many Saudi women activists, the bigger picture issue is acquiring access to public space in all of its dimensions. Because political parties and formal organizations are banned in the kingdom, Saudi women, perhaps more than women elsewhere, have had to rely on creative methods of making their point and demanding their rights without upsetting the political equation.

A flashpoint in Saudi women’s quest for equal access to public space occurred in 2006, when a team from the King Fahd Institute for Hajj Research, under the approval of Mecca governor Prince Abdul Majeed, unveiled a plan to segregate men and women worshipping at the Grand Mosque, the holiest site in Islam. This move had no historical precedent, as women have always had equal access to the mosque. Nor were women included in the planning committee or even as part of the conversation. Ostensibly, the plan to move women elsewhere was due to purported overcrowding at the Mataf (place where the ritual of ṭawāf, or circumambulation of the Kaʿbah, occurs). Such segregation had already been implemented at the Prophet’s Mosque in Medina, where visitation by women is limited to a few hours per day, while visitation by men is permitted at any time. Nevertheless, the plan evoked major, vocal protests from Saudi women, in particular, questioning whether men had any greater claim on the Kaʿbah than women and why such an innovation would be introduced, given that there was no historical precedent for such segregation at the Grand Mosque. Led by Hatoon al-Fassi, many Saudi women, as well as international figures, both male and female, quickly and publicly raised their voices in protest, declaring the plan to be discriminatory against women and taking the unusual step of criticizing the move in newspaper articles published in the Saudi press. Although the planning committee continued to insist that the plan would be “better” for women and invited women to allow the committee to explain the plan to them, women nevertheless remained adamant that the plan was discriminatory. This protest, undertaken simply by the raising of voices and public criticism, resulted in the plan being canceled. Addressing the issue by questioning the religious legitimacy of such a move struck a deep chord in Saudi Arabia as it tangentially raised questions about the monarchy’s legitimacy, which is supposed to be rooted in its defense of Islam and its holy sites.

Another sphere of protest for Saudi women has to do with the sale of lingerie and makeup. Although the Saudi government passed a law in 2009 requiring that only female salespersons be permitted to sell such items, the government was not able to enforce the law because shopkeepers protested that the measures were impossible to implement, either because there weren’t enough trained female salespersons, because women employees weren’t reliable, or because no women applied for the jobs because of ongoing social concerns about women in the public sphere. What tipped the balance with respect to enforcement of the legislation was a series of social media and public awareness campaigns by women—some for it and some against it—bringing the matter to public consciousness. In the end, more people believed that having Saudi women purchase undergarments from unrelated male salespersons was a greater violation of Saudi women’s dignity and modesty than working in a lingerie store. This case highlights the reality that religion can be used effectively as an argument both for and against women’s presence in the public sphere and that women are capable of creative campaigns of protest while remaining within certain socially prescribed roles. It also shows women’s capacity to harness new technologies in the service of projecting their message to a broad audience.

Attention to women’s rights and access to public space in Saudi Arabia has been one of the hallmarks of the reign of King ʿAbd Allāh. Not only has women’s access to educational and professional life been expanded, such as by the scholarship program for study abroad and the opening of certain previously prohibited disciplines such as engineering to women, but the king has also granted women the right to vote, run for office, serve as full members of the Shoura Council, and practice as licensed lawyers. Nevertheless, despite these important achievements, the right to drive remains elusive.

Because Saudi women cannot drive, they remain dependent on a man—whether father, husband, brother, or hired driver—to transport them to school, work, or wherever else they need to go. Having a hired driver who is a non–family member creates a conundrum for Saudi culture—Saudi women are not supposed to be in the presence of a non-maḥram man (non-unmarriageable) without a chaperone, yet the ban on women driving leaves women with no choice but to depend on someone else, in many cases a non-maḥram hired driver, of whom there are over 800,000 in the kingdom. Because hiring a male driver is expensive and because public transportation remains widely unavailable for the time being (metro projects are being undertaken in most major cities), many women who wish to work outside of the home cannot do so unless they have a male family member able and willing to regularly drive them there. Because of the constraints that inability to drive places on women, women’s demand for the right to drive has continuously resurfaced since the initial infamous 1991 event in which Saudi women activists publicly drove in Riyadh, leading to a fatwā by then-Grand Mufti ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz bin Bāz, forcefully declaring a ban on women driving. Since then, Saudi women have engaged in a variety of means of protest against the ban, including, most recently, the Women2Drive campaign initiated by Manal al-Sharif, when she posted a video of herself driving in Khobar on YouTube. Al-Sharif said she was inspired to post the video after hearing the story of Bahia al-Mansour, a university student who often failed exams because of the constraints and difficulties of not having a reliable driver and not being able to drive herself. Al-Sharif was initially detained by local police for violating the ban, but was released and has continued to work to bring public attention to the matter, including through campaigns on Facebook and Twitter to raise awareness of the fact that the ban has no basis in the Sharīʿah and that there is no written law forbidding women from driving. Protests against her arrest were held by other women, who participated in collective driving in varying Saudi cities. In many cases, confrontations occurred with local police and the women were escorted home. One woman, Shaima Jastaina, was sentenced to ten lashes for driving, although King ʿAbd Allāh pardoned her.

Another method of protesting the ban on women driving has been for Saudi women to go to departments issuing driver’s licenses to apply for them. There is no law prohibiting women from applying for a driver’s license, yet the explanation given for al-Sharif’s arrest, as well as others’, is that they were not driving on a valid Saudi driver’s license. Bringing attention to the bureaucratic gap was not only another method of highlighting the lack of an appropriate office but also a challenge to the driving ban. Al-Sharif, like many other Saudi women who have lived and studied abroad, possesses a valid driver’s license from another country.

That these methods of protesting the ban have been successful is evidenced by the number of male Saudi citizens raising their voices in support of women’s right to drive and the willingness of some Saudi men to ride in a car with a woman driver, even at the risk of being arrested themselves. Perhaps also indicative of the success of the Women2Drive campaign, in particular, was the report by a male Saudi academic to the Shoura Council warning that, if women were given the right to drive, there would be no virgins left in the kingdom within ten years, suggesting that public opinion has swayed in favor of women driving to the point where religious conservatives feel threatened.

In Indonesia, protests have focused on defending the rights of Indonesia’s numerous migrant workers who go abroad, often to Gulf countries, to work as domestic help. Saudi Arabia has been particularly notorious for cases of abuse against domestic workers, with a number of cases that have been publicized internationally. In one of the most shocking, in June 2012, Ruyati binti Satubi was beheaded for murdering her employer. No information was provided to the Indonesian embassy, and there remained questions as to whether the killing was a matter of self-defense. This case was particularly shocking as the Indonesian president, Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono, had just given a speech describing six government programs to protect Indonesian migrant workers.

In response to the execution, mass demonstrations broke out in Indonesia, with participants ranging from activists to artists and businesspeople, led by the Ruyati’s three daughters. The protests began at the labor department and spread to the state court, with protesters demanding the commitment of the president to guarantee the safety of overseas workers. The public also demanded a thorough investigation into the case. A civil society coalition of nongovernmental organizations and interfaith leaders called for the repatriation of Ruyati’s body and raised funds to pay for the cost. Although the funds were raised and one daughter, along with supporters from the coalition, traveled to Saudi Arabia to recover Ruyati’s body and property, they were unable to recover either. The Indonesian government responded by establishing a team called Satuan Tugas Tenaga Kerja Indonesia (Task Force for Protection of Indonesian Migrant Workers; Satgas TKI), which aims to protect Indonesian migrant workers from the death penalty abroad by seeking either life imprisonment as an alternative or release. There are currently 212 people under the sentence of death in various countries. In 2011, thirty-seven people were released. Many Indonesians also called for a moratorium on workers going to Saudi Arabia, which has been implemented periodically as ongoing negotiations between the Saudi and Indonesian governments have taken place, securing the rights of migrant workers along the lines of similar arrangements that have been made between the governments of Saudi Arabia and the Philippines.

All of these cases illustrate the capacity of women to spark, lead, and participate in protests, whether individual or communal, making the personal political. The variety of methods and responses highlights women’s creative capacity to challenge unjust systems in new and meaningful ways, sometimes achieving change and sometimes raising public consciousness about issues of concern in order to build national consensus. Although such protests necessarily often occur outside of official channels, in many cases they have succeeded in bringing about change through official channels. It is clear that, having harnessed the power of protest, women are likely to continue to seek their rights and press for change at multiple levels of society. Yet the cost of protesting can still remain very high, as the case of Malala Yousafzai starkly reminds us. While traveling home from school in October 2012, she was shot in the head by an extremist claiming affiliation with the Taliban, who oppose girls’ education. The Taliban continues to vow to kill her for her outspokenness against their occupation of her hometown and her protesting of their attempts to limit women’s movements, particularly by preventing girls from seeking education. Yet Yousafzai has vowed to continue her struggle, exemplifying a quote by Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

Historical

In traditional societies, such as that of early Islam, women have little opportunity to protest as individuals. Rather, they resort to their naturally perceived roles as wives, mothers, daughters, or sisters. Despite such limitations, however, women’s protests can resound, and powerfully so. There are three women from the family of the Prophet Muḥammad who not only serve as role models in a general sense but also spoke out vigorously and effectively against wrongdoing and injustice during their respective times. They are ʿĀʾishah bint Abū Bakr, who was the Prophet’s youngest and favorite wife; Fāṭimah, his daughter and single surviving child, the wife of ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib; and, finally, Zaynab bint ʿAlī, his granddaughter and daughter of Fāṭimah and ʿAlī. In what follows, the narrative traditions about the lives of these three women are examined for the purpose of investigating how their words and actions reveal in general the mentalities of women’s social protest in Islamic civilization.

What these narrative traditions actually say will be treated here as historical evidence. But this evidence reveals not necessarily what really happened but rather how people throughout the history of Islamic civilization were thinking about what happened. This thinking was not restricted to the historical context of the three women whose lives were being narrated. Rather, it extended diachronically through the entire history of Islamic thought, all the way to modern times. These three women, as we will see, were “good to think with” throughout the historical vicissitudes of the Islamic world. Their expressions of protest, in both word and action, have become collective prototypes for the full range of women’s protest in Islamic civilization (Ruffle, 2010, p. 96; Hann-Kassam, 2002, passim).

ʿĀʾishah.

ʿĀʾishah publically challenged two caliphs, ʿUthmān and ʿAlī. Although she was mostly confined to her home, out of the public eye, a confinement she took upon herself willingly in order to remain the Prophet’s wife or else be released without blame (see sūrah 33:30–35), she managed to have sizable public influence. In her case, the interior life of a woman who is simply living at home was used paradoxically to exteriorize the message of her interiority. This way, conversely, the exterior life of this woman’s famous men could in turn be appropriated into the interior space of her home. A case in point is the historical fact that the home of ʿĀʾishah eventually housed not only the body of the Prophet Muḥammad but those of the first two caliphs, Abū Bakr, her father, and ʿUmar, as well.

When the third caliph, ʿUthmān, overreached in his position by practicing egregious nepotism and dabbling in embezzlement of public funds, one of the Prophet’s in-laws, ʿAmmār ibn Yāsir, spoke out against ʿUthmān and was consequently flogged within an inch of his life. Outraged by such injustice, ʿĀʾishah brought out from her home some relics of the Prophet—some hair, a shirt, and a sandal, in full view for all to see—exclaiming that the practice (sunnah) has been forgotten before these items had ever had a chance to disintegrate. ʿUthmān had no response to this gesture, which clearly incited public outrage, and was forced to take refuge in a mosque. Needless to say, ʿĀʾishah earned a great deal of public respect for her speech act and clever use of relics to shame ʿUthmān publically. She subsequently became a leading figure in the growing opposition movement. Once again we see here the exteriorization of the interior life of women, who are trusted as guardians and even controllers of their men’s interior existence.

ʿĀʾishah defended the honest treasurer of Kufa, ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd, a man who had refused to allow ʿUthmān’s cronies to embezzle from the treasury of Kufa. ʿUthmān removed him from power, using the excuse that ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd was really ʿUthmān’s personal treasurer and should do his bidding. But ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd refused to comply, saying he was treasurer for the Muslim community only. Tensions between the two came to a head when ʿUthmān, while compiling the definitive copy of the Qurʾān, demanded that ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd relinquish for destruction whatever text he had in his possession, but ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd refused. Heated words were exchanged in the mosque, and ʿĀʾishah sided with ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd. ʿUthmān had ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd thrown out of the mosque with such force that he broke two ribs. ʿĀʾishah was so horrified at the way a companion of the Prophet was treated that she, as the historian Yaʿqūbī wryly states, responded most effectively: “And then ʿĀʾishah spoke and she said plenty” (Yaʿqūbī, in Abbott). When ʿAbd Allāh ibn Masʿūd died, he left orders that in no way should ʿUthmān pray over his body. The authority behind the public rebuke here comes again from the control of the woman over household affairs, which can be metaphorically compared in the public world to the treasurer’s control over the affairs of the Muslim community.

ʿĀʾishah later had another chance to rebuke ʿUthmān publically—this time for refusing to admonish his brother, Walīd ibn ʿUqbah, for attempted embezzlement and public drunkenness. In response to the rebuke, ʿUthmān called attention to the status of ʿĀʾishah as Muḥammad’s widow, trying to use it against her by saying to her that her place was in her house, far away from the public domain. That gambit opened up a heated, if not violent, debate as to whether ʿĀʾishah in particular and women in general have the right to object publically to wrongdoing. The debate may not have been resolved then—or even now—but Walīd ibn ʿUqbah was deposed and flogged for public drunkenness. Here again the metaphor of the home comes into play, since the act of embezzlement can be seen as a violation of the interior integrity of a household. And such interior integrity can also apply as a metaphorical counterweight to the loss of exterior integrity by way of public drunkenness.

ʿUthmān’s ongoing leadership led to more nepotism, more attempts to have his rivals murdered, and a host of other wanton acts. What resulted was a general outcry for his abdication, a cry driven by ʿĀʾishah’s remarks about his corruption. Her epigrammatic remarks became epigrams in and of themselves. Still, ʿUthmān refused to abdicate and angered the population so much that they laid siege to his house. Finally cowed, he promised to mend his ways and even to make no further appointments unless he cleared it with the wives of the Prophet and with an agreed-upon counsel. Whether ʿĀʾishah had any influence in this decision of his is unknown, but it is remarkable that the wives of the Prophet could wield such influence on the public from the confines of their houses. Once again, the same metaphor applies: the interiority of good housekeeping becomes the model for the exteriority of sound management for the government in power. Eventually, ʿUthmān’s food and water supply was cut off, and he appealed to the wives of the Prophet and to the Prophet’s extended family, as well as to his own kinsmen in Mecca and Syria and to his extended family, for aid and supplies. The principle applies: just as charity begins at home, good economics must begin at home, and home is where women manage the housekeeping.

ʿĀʾishah did not respond to the distress call of ʿUthmān, using the excuse that she did not want to be molested and dishonored by the crowds, as some had been, and she subsequently distanced herself completely from the uprising by leaving Medina and going to Mecca for ḥajj. The rebels, led by ʿĀʾishah’s brother, Muḥammad ibn Abī Bakr, broke into ʿUthmān’s house and attacked him while he was reading the Qurʾān. The wife of ʿUthmān, Naʾilah, attempted to protect him with her own hands and lost her fingers in the process. ʿUthmān was killed by a mob, offering no resistance, and the event had its consequences: Muslims shedding Muslim blood. ʿUthmān was buried secretly, and ʿAlī succeeded him as caliph. He did nothing about addressing the regicide or punishing the perpetrators.

ʿAlī’s succession was accepted, but with reservations, especially among ʿUthmān’s kinsmen, who wanted some sort of redress for his murder. ʿUthmān’s blood-soaked shirt with Naʾilah’s missing fingers stitched to it became a gruesome banner for rallying an opposition—and calling for revenge.

ʿĀʾishah, upon hearing about ʿUthmān’s murder, set out to return to Medina, but once she heard that ʿAlī was accepted as the new caliph, she turned around and went back to Mecca. She claimed that she was outraged that the rabble had murdered the caliph and taken command. She felt that in order to restore order and strengthen Islam, ʿUthmān needed to be avenged. She then went to the Kaʿbah, ceremoniously veiled herself (thus creating an interior space and even a “home” for herself in within a public space), and addressed a crowd of ʿUthmān’s kin, among others, giving a public speech in the mode of a lament. She excused all of ʿUthmān’s transgressions on the grounds that these were merely things that go along with being a leader. Then she made a case that ʿUthmān had promised to reform. But. she said, “They shed sacred blood, desecrated the sacred city, seized sacred funds, and profaned the sacred month. By ’God, ʿUthmān’s fingers are far better than a whole world filled with the likes of them.” After telling the crowd to distance themselves from these perpetrators, she said: “By ’God, even if that which they imputed to him [ʿUthmān] were indeed a fault, he has been purged of it as gold is purged of its dross or a garment of its dirt; for they rinsed him in his own blood as a garment is rinsed in water” (Yaʿqūbī, in Abbott). One cannot help but recall the gruesome banner made of ʿUthmān’s bloodied shirt with Naʾilah’s severed fingers stitched to it. ʿĀʾishah roused the crowd at Mecca, who rallied around her, calling for revenge for ʿUthmān’s murder. Her speech exonerated her from any suggestion that she was an opportunist who had spoken out against ʿUthmān on several occasions, because she had cloaked her speech as a lament, calling out genuinely for revenge. And that cloaking was formalized by her wearing a veil.

ʿĀʾishah managed to gain about three thousand followers in her quest to avenge ʿUthmān and set off to Basra to garner more support for her cause. ʿAlī, upon hearing that ʿĀʾishah was advancing with an army in her quest to avenge ʿUthmān, looked to Kufa for support. At the Battle of the Camel, ʿĀʾishah asked her general to lead her camel into the middle of the battle. Her general was killed in the action, and then, from the middle of the battle, in her howdah on her camel, she commanded her troops, stirring them up by calling for the avenging of ʿUthmān’s death. She acted in true pre-Islamic form, since women would be placed in the middle of battle to encourage their men to protect them and preserve their honor. Many died protecting ʿĀʾishah. ʿAlī commanded that her camel be hamstrung and, as she fell, so did her cause.

Fāṭimah.

Fāṭimah, the only surviving child of the Prophet Muḥammad and the wife of ʿAlī, is the paradigm in the Shīʿah tradition of forbearance, humility, and patience. When her father died, she was to inherit the Garden of Fadak, a piece of property given solely to Muḥammad for his personal use. However, Abū Bakr denied her the rights of inheritance, claiming that prophets neither inherit nor pass on inheritance. Anything they owned becomes alms for the poor. Fāṭimah objected, but to no avail. So she went to the mosque and addressed all the women there, first praising everything Islamic, then praising her father in particular and all that he had done for the nascent Muslim community. As the story proceeded, Fāṭimah continued by praising the Qurʾān and the wisdom and justice it contains, in particular its guidance for property inheritance, and then she stated outright that anyone going against the teachings of the Qurʾān is among either the ignorant or the hypocrites. She then got right to the point and stated unequivocally that she was indeed the daughter of the Prophet Muḥammad and had the right to inherit his personal property; she cited cases within the text of the Qurʾān where prophets inherit and pass on their inheritance to their descendants; and she pointed out that God made no exception for Muḥammad. She finally reminded the gathering crowd that it was their duty to speak out against injustice and act accordingly. In this case, the woman’s words of protest were spoken in the mode of a man, not a woman, since legal cases of inheritance cannot be argued by women. (On Fadak, see Ruffle, “May You Learn from Their Model,” 2011, pp. 25–27, and Soufi, 1997, pp. 104ff. Soufi also provides full bibliography of all primary sources. See also the extensive article by Veccia Vaglieri, 1965.) Unlike ʿĀʾishah, then, Fāṭimah in this narrative took action that was masculinized by her circumstances.

According to the Shīʿah tradition, Fāṭimah ultimately succeeded in persuading Abū Bakr. However, when he was on his way to give Fāṭimah the deeds to the property, ʿUmar intercepted him and tore up the deeds. At this point, Fāṭimah switched her rhetoric from male to female discourse. She now extended her protest, after being forced out of the public arena, by grieving loudly day and night near the tombs of the fallen, calling to her father and bewailing the injustice that she had to bear. Some men complained to ʿAlī about her wailing in the open, and so ʿAlī built her a house where she could go every day, with her two sons, and complain loudly to her father as she mourned his death. Here we see the male world in the act of confining a protesting woman by putting her in her place, so to speak, back into an interior space that will be her supposedly permanent home.

Zaynab.

Zaynab, the daughter of ʿAlī and granddaughter of the Prophet Muḥammad, joined her brother, Ḥusayn, in his cause against the forced acceptance of Muʿāwiyah’s son, Yazīd, as the legitimate caliph. She was fifty-five at the time. Ḥusayn’s retinue was on its way to Kufa to gather more supporters when they were intercepted and besieged by Yazīd’s men. They were outnumbered, being only seventy-three to Yazīd’s three thousand men. All the men, with the exception of a young and sickly nephew, ʿAlī Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn, Ḥusayn’s son, were killed, and the women were stripped of their veils, humiliated, and abused. When they were paraded as captives in Kufa, Zaynab publically berated the crowd, in a very eloquent speech, for abandoning Husay’s cause (full text of the speech in Sipihr, 1978, pp. 281–283). Here, the woman’s deprivation of her veil forced her to go public in ways that would have been impossible in normal circumstances. Now that she was forcibly deprived of her veil, which would have been her home away from home, she was able to go public and speak freely like a man, venting her anger and hatred upon her enemies in her protestations.

Weeks later, Zaynab and the remainder of her kin were marched to Damascus and was humiliated for the six-hundred-mile journey as she was paraded, unveiled, from village to village. Once in Damascus, Yazīd insulted her and her nephew, ʿAlī Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn, but both stood up to him. When Yazīd reacted by calling for the execution of ʿAlī Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn, Zaynab protested that he had to kill her first. She then publically berated Yazīd for his ungodly behavior toward the Prophet’s family and for his perverse leadership. (Full text of her khuṭbah in Yazīd’s presence in Sipihr, 1978, pp. 386–389.)

At this point, Yazīd was ready to kill them both, but was prevented by dissent among his courtiers, since they felt great discomfort about his treatment of the prophet’s grandchildren. Zaynab and ʿAlī Zayn al-ʿĀbidīn were eventually released and given permission to return to Medina. Before she left Damascus, however, Zaynab led a public mourning, lamenting Ḥusayn’s death and those of Ḥasan and ʿAlī, blaming them all on Yazīd, as she painstakingly described the cruelty she and her kinsfolk had to endure (ibid. Sipihr, 1978, pp. 470–471). When leaving Damascus for Medina, she refused to be transported in an elegant litter, preferring one draped in the black flags of mourning. At every stop, she mourned in front of the gathering people and lamented her mistreatment. Once in Medina, she went to where Muḥammad was buried and very publicly mourned and bewailed her mistreatment and the mistreatment of all of Muḥammad’s descendants. Her story reached the ears of many. Just as the humiliation of being deprived of her veil was permanent, the new freedom that Zaynab won for herself in the face of this humiliation could now make it possible for her to go public again in ways that would have been impossible in normal circumstances. Her opportunity to protest was made permanent.

Conclusion.

In looking briefly at current women’s protests in the Islamic world that occur within distinctly Islamic contexts, we can see broad brushstrokes of the historical forces outlined here at work. Most forms of women’s protest in Islamic contexts employ the rhetoric of invoking traditional Islamic values in questioning a wide range of wrongs committed by those in power. The protestations tend to target such age-old forms of injustice as violence, sexual degradation, racism, sexism, and hypocrisy. The modes of protest range from traditional gestures of mourning at funerals to impassioned reasoning disseminated in print or electronic media. If the protest is met with attempts at repression, then the moral force of the suffering righteous can be activated, leading to further protest.

 Tribal Societies and Women

Tribes have long played important roles in the Islamic world by facilitating the rapid spread of Islam in the early Islamic period, contributing to the rise and fall of empires and states throughout the premodern era, and sustaining or weakening ruling regimes during modern times. As Islam spread across Central Eurasia in the premodern period, for example, local tribal groups accepted the new religion, while combining its beliefs and practices with their preexisting ones, such as pilgrimages to saints’ tombs. Tribal groups have continued to exert power and influence in the modern period by stabilizing political processes within nation-states (such as Jordan and Kuwait), by opposing ruling regimes (such as Qadhdhāfī’s in Libya in 2011), and by fighting against or allying with foreign occupying militaries (such as in Afghanistan and Iraq in the early 2000s).

Writers often use the English term “tribe” to describe, interchangeably, a group of people, a political entity, a form of social organization, or a structural type, and thus leave the definition vague. Although they often equate nomads and pastoralists with tribes, not all nomads or pastoralists have been tribally organized, and more tribal people have been settled than mobile. Often negatively, scholars and others associate the adjective “tribal” with certain cultural systems, ideologies, attitudes, and modes of behavior and imply that a “tribal mentality” is a narrow, partisan, or traditional outlook, as compared with a modern one. The expression “tribes with flags” conveys the notion that even nation-states in the modern era (such as Somalia and Yemen) may be little more than tribes disguised as more complex polities. Scholars usually neglect to consider tribal polities as part of a vibrant civil society in many countries throughout the Islamic world, but such entities have sometimes proven to be vital parts of postcolonial, modernizing, and democratizing societies, as witnessed by tribally based sectors of Kurdish society in urban Iraq, especially since 1991.

Tribal polities—broadly defined by anthropologists as named sociopolitical entities having hierarchical groups and leaders—in the Islamic world have taken different forms, but they all have served as alternative systems to those of premodern empires and states and modern nation-states, and have consistently provided their members with political, economic, and social benefits, such as personal and group protection, support, and identity, especially where empires and state institutions have not effectively reached tribal areas. Different kinds of tribal societies have emerged in various parts of the Islamic world. Some forms have been closely tied to nomadic pastoralism and were often territorially expansive (as in the Arabian Peninsula and North Africa), while others have been based in agricultural societies and more closely connected with markets, centralizing governments, and institutionalized religion (as in Kurdistan and northwestern Pakistan).

Throughout the Islamic world, the structure, organization, leadership, and identity of tribal societies have affected the statuses and roles of women. Real and fictive genealogies (an organizing principle of such entities) have been patrilineal, and women belonged to the lineages, clans, tribes, and confederacies of their fathers. Women have served as repositories of genealogical knowledge, especially women’s kinship and marital interconnections, while men have tended to stress their more limited patrilineal and patrilateral ties. Some groups have practiced endogamy (marriage within a defined group), to retain kinswomen within their groups after marriage and to maintain control over property there. Islamic law provides inheritance rights to women, but not all Muslim societies have honored that tenet. Even in endogamous societies, some marriages have been exogamous in order to create alliances with other groups. As in most Islamic societies, polygyny among tribal peoples has been rare and was usually practiced only when a first wife did not bear children, and thus the husband needed heirs to perpetuate his lineage. Women in tribal societies have formed multigenerational and often mutually supportive ties, and their interrelationships were more personally affirming and less competitive than those of most men. In some areas, older women have served as tribal leaders at the local level or for their societies as a whole. In the few rare matrilineal tribal societies (in Saharan and sub-Saharan Africa) in the Islamic world, women have gained some further authority, but actual power has usually rested with their brothers, sons, and other male kin (as has usually been the case in matrilineal societies everywhere). Regardless of tracing descent through the father’s or the mother’s line, men often still controlled political and economic decision-making on behalf of their households and local communities.

Tribal women have retained the rich cultures of their societies, including oral traditions, rituals, and ceremonies, and they have perpetuated their often unique material cultures and technologies, especially those relating to their work as producers of textiles and other utilitarian objects. In charge of their households, women have provisioned the members with resources, food, and comfort. They have been responsible for raising and socializing children. At a certain age or level of physical ability, boys have left the domestic domain to join older boys and men’s activities, while girls have remained with their mothers and other female kin to learn the lessons of their gender before they marry, join their husband’s households, and produce and raise their own children.

Whether adhering to Sunnī, Shīʿī, Ṣūfī, or other divisions in Islam (and the diverse beliefs and practices within each one), tribal men have tended to emphasize the five basic pillars of the faith (including praying, fasting, and alms giving) and to engage in communal, often all-male rites, while women have focused more attention on domestic and family rituals, including local pilgrimages, vow-making, and rites of passage relating to birth, attainment of adulthood, marriage, and death. Older Ṣūfī women especially have played essential roles in community leadership in tribal societies, given the greater gender equality inherent in many Ṣūfī beliefs and practices. Men and women in all Islamic societies have arranged and celebrated marriages, each gender having its own specific rites, roles, and duties.

Women in tribal societies have often been less restricted in their dress, deportment, and mobility than the women in the nontribal societies located near them, partly because internal tribal structures and organizations provided them with adequate protection and security. They have not been as limited by the kinds of modest coverings (“veiling” in its many forms) and patterns of seclusion found among other women in nontribal urban and rural settings in the Islamic world. Modesty, chastity, and marital fidelity have been key values for all Muslim women, and to some extent for men as well, and the norms governing behavior prevalent in any Islamic society help to sustain these values. Notions of honor and shame are paired in most Islamic societies, especially tribal ones, with men responsible for upholding lineage and group honor, and women impeded from engaging in behaviors that would shame their kin and tribal groups.

Outsiders have often blamed tribal societies for values and customs that have subordinated women and female children and have subjected them to honor killings, child marriages, other forms of arranged unions, physical abuse, female genital cutting, and easy divorce for men. Such attitudes and practices, also found among Islamic societies that were not tribally organized (and among many non-Islamic societies as well), have stemmed instead from often universal notions of male supremacy, patriarchy, and patrilineality, which privileged men and boys over women and girls. Women in some tribal societies have been more protected against discrimination and abuse than women in some nontribal societies because of the constant protections offered by coresident, close-knit, kinship-related tribal groups. The covert, subversive power of women, expressed within families and local communities, has played a role in their relationships with men and hierarchical structures and has tempered the authority that these individuals and entities might have otherwise held over them. Aware that women could apply sanctions against them (by denying them food or comfort) or threaten their fragile sense of masculinity and individual honor (by spreading rumors about their impotence), men have learned to exercise caution in exerting abusive power over women.

Tribal men have generally been more involved than tribal women in the processes of Islamization (greater systemization of religious beliefs and practices and their dissemination), market expansion, modernization (including access to modern technology such as mobile telephones and computers), integration and assimilation in nation-states, and globalization. Women have continued to support the domestic domain and their local kinship, tribal, and work-related networks and to handle children’s socialization. Formal education, including both Islamic and secular forms, has involved boys in greater numbers than girls, and the resulting occupational changes have affected more males than females. Even with women’s higher education and increased participation in paid labor outside the home, society at large has continued to consider women responsible for performing most, if not all, domestic and child-related tasks. New or enhanced notions of national identity and a politicized Islam have impacted men more directly than women, who continued to uphold local-community, tribal, and ethnic identities and their social, ritual, and ceremonial expressions. Women’s (and men’s) affiliations with tribal polities have served to demarcate the space between their local communities and wider arenas such as nation-states and to offer them some protective mediation. In some places, young women have resisted against the societal and cultural norms that restricted their greater participation in the wider community and society, such as in Iran during the country-wide popular uprisings against oppressive monarchical and theocratic regimes in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries.

Workforce, Women in the

[This entry has two subentries:

• HISTORICAL DISCOURSE
• CONTEMPORARY DISCOURSE.]

Historical Discourse

Women have always been active in the workforce in the Muslim world, whether their contributions are formally recognized in the form of financial remuneration for their services or are informally present, such as through unpaid agricultural work on family property. Because women often worked as independent contractors, small business owners, and labor-for-hire, typically in the domestic arena or in service to other women, and because most working women were not members of the elite classes, records of their activities are scarce. Nevertheless, historical records, particularly court documents, tax records, and contemporary writings, provide hints at the variety of occupations women have fulfilled over the centuries.

During the lifetime of the Prophet Muḥammad, women were known to have worked in the caravan trade and in the marketplace. He met his first wife, Khadījah, when she hired him to accompany her caravan to Syria to sell her goods. Another of his wives, Sawdah, earned her own income through leather-working.

The Pre-Modern Period.

In the pre-modern, pre-industrial period, women were actively involved in small-scale commerce, such as sewing, embroidery, and textile production, particularly the production of silk, which involved unraveling the silk thread, reeling it, weaving it into cloth, and then dying it. Lower-class women worked in a variety of paid professions, including as midwives, healers, greengrocers, sellers of foodstuffs, bakers, matchmakers, hairdressers, dalallas (peddlers of goods such as clothing, jewelry, and embroidery to harems, as well as carriers of gossip), singers, dancers, mourners, washers of the dead, bath attendants, orderlies in hospitals, and even prostitutes. Occasionally, lower-class women might embark on a more unusual, specialized occupation, such as raising carrier pigeons that could be sold or hired out.

Some elite and middle-class women were known to provide religious education to other women, although it is not clear whether there was formal remuneration for these services, as would have been the case for men. Upper-class women were also important employers of other women, typically as domestic slaves who would cook food and clean houses, but also as professional singers and dancers for weddings and births. Mamlūk women were particularly known as major employers of female domestic servants. One Mamlūk princess reportedly had a household staff of seven hundred women, including a treasurer (khazindara) and general supervisor (raʾs nawba).

Frequent mention is made of women working as prostitutes in eighteenth-century Cairo and Aleppo. Although the profession was considered disreputable, the state nevertheless permitted its practice in order to tax it and thereby gain revenue. Aleppo required prostitutes to be licensed by a state officer to whom prostitutes additionally had to pay protection money. Arab sources from the time indicate that there were guilds of sorts for prostitutes, singers, and dancers, although it has been speculated that these guilds were simply organizational structures that facilitated state control and taxation. Prostitutes were also present in Isfahan, where fourteen thousand of them were registered as taxpayers in 1666. They lived together in special caravanserais under the control of female “superiors” who hired them out. Similarly, although the professions of poets, singers, dancers, Ṣūfi dhikr chanters, and professional mourners were looked down on socially, the government nevertheless required them to pay taxes and hired female officers (daminat al-maghani) to collect remittances.

In the pre-modern era, the most common trade for lower-class women was spinning, as often portrayed in miniatures showing women either at a spinning wheel or with a spindle under their arm. Some women became particularly renowned for their skill in working linen and other materials, as well as for embroidery in gold and silver thread. The market for cotton and linen cloth was particularly strong, providing many women, such as in nineteenth-century Cairo, with the opportunity to purchase raw cotton or linen at their own expense, process it in their own homes, and then resell it for a profit. Others received from traders their cotton or linen, which they took home, spun or carded. They returned the finished thread to the trader, who would then sell it to a weaving workshop. This kind of work was paid at a piece rate, typically very low wages. Similar patterns have been found in eighteenth-century Aleppo and seventeenth-century Bursa, in Turkey. Some women expanded beyond making cloth to sewing the cloth into clothing items, which they further enhanced with embroidery in order to produce luxury goods for the wealthy. Some hired young girls at low wages to serve as apprentices. Others were hired by the families of young girls to teach them their skills.

Impact of European Industrialization.

Women’s place in the cloth market—one of the few remunerative labor options available to them—was threatened in the late eighteenth-century by the importation of cheaper, factory-produced European goods. Although state factories were established in Egypt to try to compete with European factories, the state factories were plagued by a variety of problems that led to their ultimate failure. By the 1840s, this led to a major shift in the Egyptian economy, namely, an imbalance of trade in which raw materials were exported from Egypt and European finished goods were imported into Egypt. Women’s independence as contractors had already been impinged upon when they were hired by state factories, placing them under state control at only two-thirds of the wages paid to men. As local merchants were pushed aside in favor of European companies and products, women not only lost placement of the goods they produced, but also suffered severe financial losses in cases where they had invested in local trade.

At the same time, new land tenure laws were introduced, concentrating land in the hands of a few large landowners and largely dispossessing peasants. As major agricultural projects, such as the construction and restoration of dikes and canals, were undertaken and small farmers were displaced, women and children often ended up working alongside men at the work sites, earning poor pay, engaging in hard labor, and working under difficult conditions. In other cases, families retained a nominal claim to the land, but the males were conscripted into the army, leaving the women to take on all of the agricultural labor, in addition to their other work, or risk loss of the land.

Public Education and the Workforce.

Despite these developments and their negative impact on women’s ability to participate in the workforce, other opportunities opened during the nineteenth century, largely due to the introduction of public education for women. For example, in Egypt in 1832, a school for hakimas (women doctors) was established in order to train medical practitioners who would provide services, both outpatient and inpatient, to other women at the Civil Hospital in Cairo. These hakimas were also responsible for vaccinating children, both in private homes and at the hospital. Expansion of education also led to openings in positions as teachers and governesses. Although these educational endeavors initially targeted upper-class women, progressive middle-class families also began to demand access to education for their daughters, including up to the university level, although they were still not willing to allow them to work outside the home. It took time for social perceptions about women’s work outside the home to change, as this had previously been associated with lower-class women. Nevertheless, many educated women argued that their interest in work was not financial in nature, but for the sake of having a career.

By the early 1930s, Egyptian women began entering new professions—journalism, medicine, law, and university teaching. Upper- and middle-class women also engaged in volunteer work in medical and social services, such as by addressing public health concerns, disaster relief, and war relief with the onset of World War II. Although some women found employment in the cigarette, textile, and pharmaceutical industries, they constituted only about 3 percent of the workforce. The majority of women remained employed in either agriculture or domestic service.

Contemporary Discourse

This article will discuss women in the workforce in the Middle Eastern and North African (MENA) countries with special reference to Iran. It will be argued that despite women’s high level of education and low fertility rate in many MENA countries, their access to the formal economy is limited and they do not occupy decision-making positions. On the other hand women work in various forms in the informal economy. Patriarchal gender relations are a real obstacle in the path of women, leading to marginalization of women in the workforce. However, women throughout the region have been challenging gender inequalities. Their struggle for gender justice, including economic gender justice, has resulted in some changes in laws and regulations in favor of women, paving their way for further gender equality. In this context women’s contribution to the economy as a whole, including their work in the informal economy, is important, as the whole economy is the site of gender contestation. This analysis suggests that change in material (education, health, employment) circumstances and women’s struggle for gender equality greatly impact patriarchal gender relations.

Making Women’s Participation in the MENA Workforce Visible.

In the second decade of the twenty-first century, women’s level of education is high in most countries around the world. In the MENA countries, with the exception of East Asia, education has expanded faster than other regions, especially for women, who in recent years have overtaken men in this respect. In the Middle East the percentage of women in universities is high, and in some countries such as in Iran the majority of university students are women.

The age of marriage is high, ranging from mid- to late twenties both for women and men. The fertility rate has also declined substantially. Iran has the lowest fertility rate (1.7), followed by Lebanon (1.8) and Tunisia (1.8). Syria has the highest rate (2.9), followed by Oman (2.8) and Saudi Arabia (2.8). Micro- and macro-level studies have historically demonstrated that education and fertility rates are important indicators for women’s participation in the workforce. Economic development, industrialization, and urbanization in this region have also contributed to women’s rising participation in the economy. However, women’s participation in the formal workforce in this region is 26 percent, which is lower than any other region (East Asia and the Pacific, 69 percent; Latin America and the Caribbean, 42 percent; South Asia, 43 percent; sub-Saharan Africa, 62 percent). Women’s formal political participation in this region is also lower than other regions.

Access to employment, especially in the formal economy, is crucial for women’s empowerment and their ability to struggle for gender equality. However, in order to make women’s work and their struggle for gender equality visible, we need to look at the discourses of women in the workforce through the lens of the sexual division of labor and the economy as a whole (formal and informal). The analysis of women’s agency, of changing gender identities, and of women’s capacity to contest oppressive practices—at work and other institutions—are crucial to evaluate the majority of women’s contribution to the economy and society as a whole through paid, unpaid, and voluntary work. In this context, a review of the literature reveals a number of interrelated issues:

• 1. Gendered division of labor is the source of women’s marginalization in the workforce. However, the definition of “women’s work” varies considerably in different societies according to change in economic circumstances and male-dominated gender ideologies.
• 2. Informal employment includes a wide range of economic activities, ranging from wage work, unpaid work, self-employment, and voluntary work. Women work in family businesses, in various forms of informal enterprises and microenterprises. They work as subcontract workers and outsource workers. Another aspect of the informal economy is home-based work of various sorts—globally 80 percent of women are home-based workers. The prevalence of women’s multiple occupations clearly demonstrates why women’s work is underreported. Thus the analysis of the economy as a whole (formal and informal) is more important than focusing solely on the labor market.
• 3. The persistence of the informal economy suggests that the informal labor is a structural feature of capitalist accumulation. Within the informal labor some activities can easily be defined as production. Others are not directly linked to the market but there is a recognition that these activities contribute to social reproduction and the maintenance of the economy, but women’s contribution within the informal economy has been undercounted in labor statistics and national income accounts. However, the invisible contribution of women could yield billions of dollars annually.

These discussions suggest that the focus should be on recognizing the importance of the informal workers, mainly women, and their location within the larger economy. The emphasis should be on the level of earnings; the nature of contracts; the access to social services; the affiliation to labor organizations; the integration of the formal and the informal sectors and their dependence on each other; and the fact that the informal economy plays an important role in the functioning of the formal economy and thus the whole economy.

The case study of Iran.

Women’s mass participation in the 1979 revolution empowered many women and gave them confidence to explicitly challenge male domination. Originally the modern Islamic interpretation of women’s issues removed some of the obstacles and encouraged women to participate in socioeconomic and sociopolitical spheres. The Islamisation of state and society, hijab, and sex segregation opened up opportunities for many religious middle-class and working-class women to enter the public sphere of economy and society. Female formal labor force participation in state enterprises increased from 29 percent in 1971 to 34 percent in 2008. And its participation in industries increased from 8 percent in 1972 to 11 percent in 2007.

However, the patriarchal gender relations based on conservative interpretations of Iranian and Islamic culture were soon reconstructed. Laws and regulations, a male-dominated society and culture, and a highly male-centered state policy have created a web of obstacles to women’s progress. Since the mid-1990s, few women have occupied high government positions such as ministers, vice presidents, deputy ministers, regional governors, and regional deputy governors. Furthermore women’s participation at the higher levels of employment—such as political leadership, managerial, and decision-making positions—have not increased more than 2 percent. The gendered division of labor is based on the idea that men are the sole breadwinners and women’s access to work depends on men’s permission. Thus the dominant state ideology advocates that men should have access to employment and reach high positions and women may take up whatever employment and positions are left over and not wanted by men. Many women have specialized in science, social science, art, and humanities, but they have not been absorbed into the formal workforce, especially in high positions. In cases where they are included, they are not promoted even if they have higher educational degrees and more years of work experience compared to their male colleagues.

Despite the deeply rooted patriarchal attitudes at the level of family, state, and society, women’s struggle for gender equality has had a relatively positive impact on these institutions, and women’s participation in socioeconomic and sociopolitical spheres has been made acceptable to society. Throughout the 1990s and into the twenty-first century, more than two thousand women have been elected in local council elections. This is significant as it demonstrates that despite patriarchal attitudes women are prepared to participate in elections as voters and as candidates, and in comparison with previous decades many women and some men are prepared to elect women to decision-making positions. Women’s participation in elections as voters has been significantly high. In the 2009 presidential elections 65 percent of women and 62 percent of men participated in the election. Nevertheless, the percentage of women members of parliaments is 4 percent. In local urban and rural councils women constitute 1.5 percent and in high managerial positions, 2 percent. This is also because participation in electoral politics as candidates requires funding. Only through employment are women able to access the necessary funds to participate in elections as candidates and pay for their administrative costs. Many women, therefore, believe that if they have financial independence they can participate in electoral politics; they can be involved in policy-making decisions that could pave the way for women to have access to resources, including the formal workforce.

Despite all the barriers, many women systematically challenge patriarchal gender relations. Women’s social knowledge and their role in economic activities are growing and changing the existing gendered division of labor and incorrect perceptions about women’s place in the family, economy, and wider society. For many women economic independence is the prerequisite to achieve political power. It is through employment that women find the opportunity to gain experience, to be trained, and to be able to risk and ultimately gain power and challenge the subordination of women in society.

The female informal employment in Iran.

The informal economy in Iran includes wageworkers in small private enterprises (carpet weaving and other handicrafts) and various types of unpaid family labor at home, including simple commodity production (production of dried herbs, pickles, purées, jams, blankets, sheets, cloths). Also a large number of women are voluntary workers. Their work is essential for the functioning of the economy and the well-being of their family and community. This large and growing workforce does not appear in the statistics and its contribution is not included in the national income. This pattern can be found in other MENA countries as well as all developing countries.

Since the 1990s, a large number of women work as self-employed and unpaid voluntary workers in nongovernmental organizations (NGOs). Many of these NGOs were born out of the women’s movement and acted as civil society organizations. They created an autonomous space from the family, the state, and the market. Their struggle represented an unprecedented historical transformation, responding to profound changes in women’s and men’s consciousness. They provided opportunities for new sources of identity for individuals and groups of women. However, the creation of autonomous spheres of social activity for women has been undermined by a patriarchal social order and the multiple sites—the intertwining of civil society, state, religion, and family—through which social gender is constructed. Nevertheless, women in Iran have been challenging institutional power, especially gender-specific access and influence, and have achieved substantive goals. They are recognized as a social group that shares common interests and legitimate claims on society. The same pattern can be found in Egypt, Lebanon, and Palestine. Women’s voluntary work in charity organizations and NGOs has played an important role in the provision of health, education, and social welfare where the states have failed to provide these resources for their citizens. As a recognized social group these women have also struggled for gender equality and challenged conservative gender ideologies.

Another aspect of women’s informal employment in Iran is found in the increasing abundance of modern coffee shops where a large number of young women university graduates work. Many of them are not registered workers, as entry to and exit from these businesses are easy for women. Although there are disadvantages to this form of employment as there is no job security, for many women this line of work has the advantage of flexibility, allowing them to study or perform other forms of employment. Many women welcome the presence of female waitresses and argue that this phenomenon makes it easier for young women to sit in a coffee shop without being harassed by men. Also the character of coffee shops is changing from the traditional ghahvekhaneh(coffeehouse), which were and still are totally male institutions, serving men by men.

The culture of work within another male-dominated profession is also changing. A large number of female home-based workers are engaged in the property and money markets. The majority of those who are formally engaged in this profession are men. However, more and more young educated women as home-based workers are entering this profession. This is a profitable business for these women and demonstrates that the informal workers are not necessarily poor.

Women‘s Struggle for Gender Equality and Change in Patriarchal Gender Relations.

These different categories of women’s work amount to millions of invisible hours of labor; their monetary value is unknown as they are not counted in the statistics or the national incomes. However, these women are empowered by working and earning money in these informal economies and are confidently changing gender relations within the home and the wider society.

Women throughout the region—whether engaged in the formal economy or informal economy—as purposeful agents, devise work and other strategies to renegotiate aspects of gender relations within the patriarchal household, the state, the market, and other institutions. No doubt patriarchal gender relations and institutions are important obstacles for women’s access to resources and women’s employment in the formal economy. Moreover women’s work is affected by family laws, education, and health issues, as well as employment laws and regulations. However, the dynamic of women’s struggle for gender equality is changing gender relations. In many cases women have succeeded in reforms to family law, education, and employment law, which have had a relatively positive impact on women and work. These reforms have affected the work of women both in the formal and informal economy.

The concept of “patriarchal bargain” is useful. This discussion can be extended to women’s struggle for change beyond the household and marriage and into the sphere of economy and society. In this context we see women who have access to the formal economy have greater degrees of bargaining power and are able to directly challenge gender relations by engaging in active agency at different levels of economic, social, political, and cultural life. However, the majority of women may not directly confront gender equality but their contribution to the economy and society as a whole end up being empowering for them. Thus different factors affect women’s bargaining strength, including their participation in the informal economy.

Conclusion.

Unequal power relations are derived from strict gendered divisions of labor. The barriers in the path of women are the way male-dominated structures are reproduced and reconstructed and patriarchal institutions are reluctant to include women in positions of power. However, gender relations are not static, and the dynamic nature of women’s struggle is constantly changing male-dominated societies. A breakthrough in societal attitudes toward women is visible in the MENA societies and has positive implications for the future of these societies.

Women in the MENA region face many challenges. However, in the second decade of the twenty-first century, the ongoing political changes in this region are creating opportunities for women to gain greater economic and political power and secure a stronger voice in the socioeconomic and sociopolitical processes of their countries. Women’s presence in these struggles is crucial. In Iran their presence is clearly visible; in other countries women’s presence varies. Nevertheless their multiple struggles can lead to gender justice, economic justice, and democracy.

Women in Science

Historical accounts of the classic Islamic period and the premodern period celebrate numerous outstanding women who distinguished themselves in various fields of endeavor. Examples include ʿĀʾishah, the wife of the Prophet, who had a distinguished role in the transmission of the ḥadīth; Rābiʿah al-ʿAdawīyah, the renowned Ṣūfī (d. 801); Wallada bint al-Mustakfī who lived in the eleventh century in Córdoba and was a legendary literary figure of that period; and Shajar al-Durr who became the sultana of Egypt on 2 May 1250, marking the beginning of the Mamlūk era in Egyptian history. Historical records are practically silent when it comes to acknowledging Muslim women in science. A few recent studies have unearthed limited evidence on Muslim women in science such as Sutayta al-Mahamali who lived in Baghdad in the tenth century and was an expert in arithmetic and successoral calculations. Labona of Córdoba, who also lived in the tenth century, was an expert in solving complex geometric algebraic problems. Mariam al-ljliya of Aleppo was employed by the ruler of Aleppo, Sayf al-Dawla (944–967 CE), to use her handcrafted intricate and innovative design in making the astrolabes that were used to determine the position of the sun and the planets. Fāṭimah al-Majritiya was another astrolabe builder. She was the daughter of the famous Muslim astronomer Muḥammad al-Majritiya from Andalusia who died in 1007 or 1008.

Muslim women in the classical period contributed to the advancement of medicine. This was due in part to the prevailing tradition among Muslim societies that women’s health issues and related matters were handled by women. Islamic history records the names of many nurses including Rufayda al-Aslamiyyah, who is considered the first nurse in early Islam. She was trained by her father who was a physician. An Ottoman surgeon, Şerefeddin Sabuncuoğlu (1385–1468), who worked with many female surgeons of his time, gave detailed illustrations of obstetric and gynecological procedures performed by women on female patients in his textbook on surgery Cerrahiyyetu’l-Haniyye.

Muslim women who connected with high officials through their philanthropy work have played a major role in promoting science and medicine. They built schools, mosques, hospitals, and other public buildings. These women established waqfiya (endowments) to maintain these institutions. Fatima al-Fihri (d. 880) built the Qarawiyin Mosque in 859 in Fez, Morocco, which became an important center of learning. Students from many countries traveled there to pursue Islamic studies, astronomy, languages, and sciences. Dhayfa Khatun (d. 1242), the powerful wife of the Ayyūbid ruler of Aleppo, al-Zahir Ghāzī, was a prominent architectural patron. She funded numerous public buildings including two schools.

During the Seljuk period, 1071–1194, Gawhar Nassiba established a medical madrasah (school) and a hospital complex in 1071 in Anatolia. Turan Malik Hospital (Dar Al Shifa) was established in 1228. It was built by the wife of the ruler of the Divrigi area of Menguceks.

During the Ottoman period, Hurrem Sultan (d. 1558), the powerful wife of Süleyman the Magnificent, sponsored and established two schools and a hospital in the capital of the empire.

In the modern era, women’s participation in science started to emerge in the Muslim world with the introduction of modern education in the mid-nineteenth century and continues to the present day. The study of science in school normally begins at an early age in elementary school and picks up later in high school. The twentieth century, particularly its later part, witnessed a tremendous expansion at both the high school and university levels. In the beginning of the twentieth century, for cultural, historical, and economic reasons, women’s enrollment in the science section at high schools as well as at the university level lagged far behind men. Women accounted for less than 10 percent of enrollment. However, women’s enrollment in science at both levels began to gain momentum. Today, women’s enrollment has reached more than 30 percent in most Muslim countries and in several cases such as Iran and Turkey it has reached parity with men or exceeded it.

Today, Muslim women are employed by governments, private organizations, and international agencies as teachers, professors, researchers, engineers, physicians, architects, administrators, and in many other positions. Muslim women are gaining ground in science employment everywhere and are making contributions on a large scale. Muslim women are active and influential members of various professional organizations related to their fields, participating in various capacities including publishing and professional meetings. Recently, they have started organizing at the local, regional, and international levels into various professional associations and networks with the help of local governments, international agencies such as the United Nations, and academic institutions in the United States, Europe, Asia, and Africa. Among these organizations are the Arab Network forWomen in Science (2005) sponsored by the University of the Gulf countries in Bahrain; the Islamic Network for Woman in Sciences (established in July 2008); and the International Society of Muslim Women in Science (ISMWS), founded by Dr. Sultana N. Nahar in 2010 at Ohio State University. The purposes of these organizations and others are: (1) to promote access to careers in science and technology; (2) to build a database that will share information about research interests, work opportunities, training, and grants; (3) to organize conferences and/or workshops to increase their competency and skills to enable them to move up in hierarchy and to correct the current gender imbalance that is present to varying degrees in Muslim countries and in leadership positions; and (4) to establish awards recognizing Muslim women in science. For example, the ASTF (Arab Science and Technology Foundation) and Regional Bureau of UNESCO have partnered with L’Oreal to recognize five Arab women each year for their contributions in science.

While the representation of Muslim women in leadership positions related to science still lags behind that of men, an increasing number are assuming leadership in their fields, winning awards, earning patents, and making important contributions to the world’s scientific knowledge. The world-famous architect Zaha Hadid, originally from Iraq, has received numerous awards for her distinguished work, including the Pritzker Architecture Prize award in 2004 (she was the first woman to receive this award in its twenty-six-year history) and the RIBA Stirling Prize award in 2010 and 2011. Another example is Farhonda Hassan, professor of geology from Egypt, who served as vice president of the Organization for Women in Science for the Developing World (OWSDW), formerly called the Third World Organization for Women in Science. The current executive board of this organization includes several Muslim women scientists.

Investment and Commerce, Women’s: Historical Practices

Muslim women have a long and varied history of investment of different types and participation in commerce, traceable back to the lifetime of the Prophet Muḥammad. Muḥammad’s first wife, Khadīja bint Khuwaylid, was a successful businesswoman, active in the caravan trade. Khadīja’s example sets the historical, religious, and, therefore, legal precedent for the permissibility of Muslim women’s involvement in investment and commercial activity.

In many pre-modern societies, women did not have extensive property rights and often lost whatever property they owned upon marriage or to pressure from male relatives. In patriarchal tribal societies, women’s right to property was rarely recognized. Thus, Islamic law’s recognition of women’s inalienable right to own and manage property and to receive inheritance was an important change for women. Because these rights were protected by Islamic law, women were often able to successfully defend those rights in the courts, as evidenced in, for example, the Ottoman archives. Court records show that Muslim women were aware of their rights and often fought for them in the courts, even against relatives and husbands, who sometimes pressured them to either give up their property or sell it, making themselves the beneficiaries. There are numerous records of women in sixteenth- and seventeenth- century urban Turkey, eighteenth-century Aleppo, and nineteenth-century Cairo who went to court to protest unjust exclusion from inheritance. So beneficial were the Islamic courts with respect to protecting women’s rights that many Christian, Armenian, Greek, and Jewish women also sought the safeguard of the Sharīʿah courts and registered both their inheritances and property transactions there.

Historically, women’s capacity to invest or engage in commerce was typically the result of either receipt of mahr (dower) upon marriage or inheritance. Mahr constituted Muslim women’s major claim to assets as mahr permitted the transfer of property and wealth from either one household to another or from one generation to another. Dowers could consist of cash or gold, but also often included jewelry, clothing, furniture, household goods, and/or real estate. This property, at least in theory, was the woman’s to do with as she pleased, including selling it and investing the proceeds.

In terms of investment, historical records, such as those from the Ottoman Empire, show that women were allowed to borrow money from money lenders (often at a time of crisis, such as upon the death of a husband or divorce), own shares in residential and commercial units and either rent them out or sell them, and set up charitable family foundations and shops in the markets. Middle-class women were particularly likely to own property and engage in business activities, including selling and buying real estate, lending money at interest, and renting out shops. (Womenshopkeepers were rare, but women landlords of shops were not.)

Women’s most prominent economic activity lay in the real estate sector. For example, in eighteenth-century Aleppo and seventeenth-century Kayseri, Turkey, women accounted for 40 percent of all property transfers. Furthermore, in Aleppo, women represented one-third of those dealing in commercial property and one-third of buyers. Women in these places also sold two to three times more than they bought, likely evidencing their inheritance of shares in properties, which they then sold, possibly due to a need for cash. Although such high rates of women’s participation in the real estate sector may seem surprising, it is important to contextualize this participation by recognizing that most people could afford to buy houses or shares of houses in medieval Cairo and eighteenth-century Aleppo, meaning that one did not need to command large resources in order to deal in property. Although, overall, women owned less real estate than men, women tended to concentrate their assets in the solid investment of real estate, whereas men tended to diversify their investments. Women further inherited smaller portions than men, rendering women’s property holdings relatively modest.

In terms of investment patterns, middle-class women were most likely to invest heavily in real estate, while wealthy women were more likely to engage in commerce, particularly the slave and spice trades, and as silent partners in commercial ventures. Many women also ventured into making loans at interest, sometimes to other women, but often to family members, including husbands. Many women secured these loans through the courts so as to be able to reclaim them, if necessary. Court records document numerous cases of this sort, with women representing themselves, demonstrating that Muslim women historically had material resources and legal rights and knew how to assert them. That said, it also must be acknowledged that, historically, the women who wielded sufficient wealth to be independent of male relatives were very small in number.

The largest number of women engaged in commerce and investment would have done so on a small scale, with local client bases and product lines that could be managed by individuals. Thus, most women engaged in small-scale business were active in the traditionally female fields of sewing, embroidery, and textile production, particularly the production of silk, cotton, and linen. Here, women operated as individual agents, either purchasing the raw materials on their own, processing them, and then selling them at the market or participating in the “putting out” system whereby a trader provided the raw materials and took the processed product to sell to weavers, paying the female processers by the piece. These patterns of production have been documented in seventeenth-century Bursa, eighteenth-century Aleppo, and early-nineteenth-century Cairo. Income from these ventures was modest, so some women took the ventures to the next level, either by adding value by using the produced cloth to make jackets or clothing items that they further embroidered, or by teaching their skills to young girls or hiring young girls as apprentices in order to increase total production.

Although “investment” is typically defined in financial terms as referring to the generation of material wealth, Muslim women also have a long history of investing in their communities through charity work and establishment of awqāf (charitable endowments). Scholars speculate that at least part of the impetus for doing so may have been to protect their property from male relatives and to retain control over it. Nevertheless, it must be recognized that Muslim women were strong providers of community resources, such as hospitals, caravanserais, fountains, mosques, and even libraries. For example, in the Ayyūbid principalities of Syria, women of the ruling households held villages and agricultural land in what appears to have been full private ownership. These assets were often used for charitable works. In Ayyūbid Damascus (1174–1260), the women of the ruling elite established twenty-six religious institutions. In Cairo, female members of the Ayyūbid household established two madrasahs, as well as other religious buildings. Thus, analysis of Muslim women’s investment must include not only their input into various endeavors, but also the desired outcome.

In the contemporary era, many past patterns of wealth, investment, particularly in real estate, and engaging in small-scale commercial ventures may still be observed, although often with a new twist. As in the past, much of Muslim women’s wealth, particularly in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), remains inherited or obtained through marriage, rather than being self-made. Particularly where the wealthiest Muslim women are concerned, participation in commerce and investment is based on their status as being already among the economic elites of society. In most of these cases, business investments and positions within corporations have been transferred to these women by male family members, such as through the death of a husband or, more frequently, a father. In some instances, the choice to leave the business to a daughter, rather than a son, has been deliberately made based on the merit and business acumen of the daughter. One example is Lubna al-Olayan of Saudi Arabia who inherited her father’s business, Olayan Financing Group, as the preferred heir over her brothers.

Although these observations are important with respect to large quantities of wealth, care should be taken not to overlook instances in which Muslim women generate smaller quantities of wealth for themselves based on entrepreneurship and creativity, such as in the case of “cottage industries” that poorer women run from their own homes or small businesses with a localized clientele. In other words, commerce and investment must be considered on both the small and large scales in order to fully encompass Muslim women’s activities. There are far more Muslim women operating small businesses and generating small portions of wealth than there are wealthy magnates.

As was also often the case in the past, in the early twenty-first century, many of the businesses and wealth generated by Muslim women are female-oriented, meaning that women provide services or goods to other women, particularly when launching a new business. For example, there is currently an expanding trend in the fashion and beauty sector of establishing spa chains, making jewelry, and fashion design for everything from clothing to custom-made computer covers and mobile phone sheaths, all of which target female clients. In other cases, women look at the reality of other women’s lives, particularly the increasing number who are struggling to juggle careers and families in the absence of quality day-care centers and at a time when women are still expected to carry the full burden of household chores. Creating services, such as cooked meals or running errands like grocery shopping, has proven to be an effective means of building a small, localized business for many entrepreneurial women who start by providing these services on their own and often branch into hiring other women to help carry out the tasks when the client base expands. In some cases, advertising is done by word of mouth, although more women are turning to the Internet to advertise—and search for—services and products. Services for women by women are boosted by the underlying assumption that women best know what other women need and are interested in. In some places, such as Bangladesh, women are more likely to trust other women as moneylenders on this basis.

Also similar to the past is the idea that “investment” encompasses more than just financial gains. At this time, many Muslim women, particularly those of lower-income brackets, enter into commercial ventures with the intent of investing in their families, particularly the futures of their children, typically in terms of material possessions, nutrition, and education. This has been shown, for example, in Bangladesh through contemporary case studies of Grameen Bank loans to poor rural women.

There have also been some major changes and developments with respect to encouraging women to participate in investment and commerce in more diversified ways, largely because they, particularly in the GCC, wield considerable financial resources, despite the fact that their participation at the board and executive team level within financial services companies is low, as are the number of women entrepreneurs. Of the estimated $500 billion in wealth held by women in the Middle East and North Africa as of 2012, $385 billion is held by women in the GCC and largely derives from family assets. This wealth is mostly invested in safe asset classes, such as cash/bank deposits and bonds. Financial institutions have attempted to put this money to better use by providing ladies-only bank branches and establishing targeted funds such as TNI Dana WomenFund, to encourage stronger levels of investment, rather than simply holding assets. This has proven successful in the UAE, where large numbers of women are diversifying their holdings, with more than ten thousand businesswomen investing in fields ranging from trade, industry finance, and real estate to tourism, fairs and exhibitions, and construction and services. Another initiative from the UAE intended to encourage businesswomen to expand their horizons through networking and knowledge-building is being carried out under the umbrella of the Emirates Business WomenCouncil (EBWC), as initiated by Invest A.D. and the UAE Chambers of Commerce and Industry. The purpose is to create a platform for Emirati businesswomen to network, collaborate, and exchange ideas in the area of finance and investment.

Similarly, in Saudi Arabia, concerted efforts are being made to expand the low participation rate of women in the economy. As of 2011, women constituted only 16.5 percent of the labor force in general and only about 10.4 percent of the private sector labor force. Yet, Saudi women were reported in 2006 to own $11 billion in cash deposits alone, as well as ownership of 40 percent of real estate, 20 percent of the stocks, and 18 percent of current accounts in the Kingdom. Endeavors have thus been undertaken by banks, particularly the National Commercial Bank, which has established forty-six women-only banks throughout the Kingdom, to create services and investment portfolios tailored to the interests and needs of women investors.

It is expected that the women of the GCC will continue to move beyond the traditional confines of the home and family as they continue to make their mark at work, in education, and in socioeconomic development. There are some examples of GCC women moving into leadership positions in the political, social, and economic spheres, such as the appointment in 2004 of Sheikha Lubna al-Qasimi to the post of minister of finance and then, in 2008, as minister of trade; the appointment of Shaikha al-Bahar as CEO of the National Bank of Kuwait; and the election of women to various boards of chambers of commerce and industry in Saudi Arabia—all of which are expected to continue to change the business culture by encouraging stronger women’s presence in investment and commerce.

Women

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