The Invisible Control Still Shaping Women’s Lives in the Arab World
Some of us were born into the so-called 1%.
Raised in the capitals of our countries.
Surrounded by art, education, liberal pockets of “freedom.”
We like to think we’re modern.
That we’ve outgrown the old rules.
But ever stop to ask:
How free are we, really, as women in the Middle East?
Ever catch yourself thinking twice before sitting in a car with a man?
Ever feel that subtle shame when you see another woman doing it and think:
“Mmm, that doesn’t look… clean”?
That’s not just your judgment talking.
That’s the generational virus, passed down from fathers, cousins, even ourselves even if we like to believe we’re not infected.
We are.
We grew up with governments run by men, with a handful of women tossed in for show, “quota women” who often couldn’t (or wouldn’t) fight for our rights.
And when a woman does get elected?
She’s usually expected to be modest, religious, “presentable.”
Not tattooed. Not loud. Not free.
We say we’re modern.
But we’re still living in the shadows of men born in the 1950s, raised in the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s
men whose rules were never about justice, only about control.
In their world, if a woman was seen out late,
she wasn’t working late.
She wasn’t running errands.
She wasn’t with friends.
No, she was doing something dirty.
If she smoked, she wasn’t casual.
She was cheap.
If she had a drink?
She must be asking to be used.
Not wife material.
These weren’t fringe ideas.
They were the standard.
And the worst part?
That mentality never really died.
It just evolved.
Wrapped itself in softer language.
Became “suggestions,” “concerns,” “warnings.”
It’s no longer:
“You’ll ruin the family name.”
Now it’s:
“Just be careful — you know how people talk.”
And they do talk.
Let’s not pretend otherwise.
You could grow up in the most educated, well-traveled, “open-minded” family
but don’t tell me you don’t have at least one relative who still says:
- “Don’t bring a guy over what will the neighbours think?”
- “She’s in a car with a man? That’s not appropriate.”
- “Be careful about your reputation, you don’t want to be that girl.”
A woman’s worth is still measured by how little she’s seen.
How quiet she is. How covered she stays. How well she hides.
Meanwhile?
Men flirt.
Men cheat.
Men catcall.
Men slide into DMs and get celebrated for “having game.”
He’s not seen as impure.
He’s just figuring things out.
He makes mistakes.
She is one.
We’ve built a system where a man’s actions are his own
but a woman’s actions belong to everyone else.
Her body is a community project.
Her choices reflect her father’s pride.
Her voice threatens her brother’s ego.
Her independence offends her mother’s sense of reputation.
And when a man crosses a line
when he harasses, assaults, or takes advantage
we still blame the woman.
Because:
- “She shouldn’t have been out that late.”
- “What was she wearing?”
- “She gave him the wrong idea.”
But we never ask:
Why did the man feel entitled to cross the line in the first place?
Why aren’t men taught to carry the burden of their own actions?
Why is honour only ever dumped on women’s shoulders — and never theirs?
The answer is ugly.
Because in our societies, a man is always just a man.
But a woman?
She’s a reputation.
A symbol.
A risk.
A warning.
And we’ve punished her, generation after generation — for simply existing.
It’s time we stop calling this “culture.”
It’s control.
And it’s time we name it for what it is.
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