Egyptian Women

The article implies that Egyptian women killed or injured their husbands in a virtual vacuum, as if their main intent was violence for its own sake. Only after reading several paragraphs into the article does the reader discover that these women suffered from prolonged, brutal physical and emotional abuse at the hands of their husbands. These women also faced economic and legal inequality sanctioned by Egyptian society, which left them economically vulnerable if they proceeded with a divorce.

When I walk into Tahrir Square alone these days, carrying my notebook, I try to remain calm, act like I belong and move with the cascading crowds. If you seem scared or intimidated, they smell your fear. Like other female reporters, I have grown accustomed to being constantly on guard while doing my job. But that can't guarantee safety. Sexual assaults on women protesters - and journalists - have become commonplace in Cairo. In late January, the United Nations strongly urged the Egyptian government to act, saying it had received 25 reports of assaults on women in Tahrir Square in a single week - 19 of them in a single day. One young woman was hospitalized with lacerations after being raped with a sharp object.

Egypt's women Re "Protests raise hope for women's rights," Feb. 3 It's wonderful to see women, who have been treated as second-class citizens in Egypt, surprisingly being treated with respect during the protests. The story of a group of men repeating the chants of a woman yelling into a megaphone, without objection or criticism, is amazing. It shows that women too have strong opinions and need to voice them. This could be a very small step toward something big. Considering the circumstances, women could be viewed as brave demonstrators who lead the way during these protests.

After the revolution swept through Egypt last winter, Sherine Ezzat was ready for a change of her own. The 33-year-old equities trader, who had wrestled with her weight since childhood, enrolled at a center that offered a custom diet and high-tech weight-reduction machines. While hooked up to a knot of electrodes, she explained that business travel and her 6-year-old son give her little time for exercise. But her new regimen has peeled away 22 pounds and put her back into her designer jeans.

Six years of relative freedom for Egyptian women comes to an end today with an official judgment restoring their husbands' full Islamic legal rights over them. Today sees the publication by the official gazette of the Constitutional Court's decision of May 5 repealing the so-called Jihan Law, named after the wife of the late President Anwar Sadat, who was responsible for its decree.

After the revolution swept through Egypt last winter, Sherine Ezzat was ready for a change of her own. The 33-year-old equities trader, who had wrestled with her weight since childhood, enrolled at a center that offered a custom diet and high-tech weight-reduction machines. While hooked up to a knot of electrodes, she explained that business travel and her 6-year-old son give her little time for exercise. But her new regimen has peeled away 22 pounds and put her back into her designer jeans.

She sits in a cafe, her laptop unfolded, while at the next table a young man in a suit discreetly reaches for the hand of his fiancee, who blushes and laughs against a window in the night. The couple whisper, almost conspiring. Mai Hawas knows what that's like. She has been engaged twice, but neither romance lasted -- one man was preoccupied with work, the other consumed with money.

Sixteen-year-old Marwa Mohammed Kamal, a good student with a bright future, had just stepped from her apartment in a working-class neighborhood when she saw the man whom she barely knew but with whom she had recently broken off an arranged marriage. He raced toward the tall, striking young woman, flinging a foul-smelling liquid on her face, arm and back. She collapsed in searing agony--the victim of what is becoming an increasingly common attack here. She had been burned with sulfuric acid.

When I walk into Tahrir Square alone these days, carrying my notebook, I try to remain calm, act like I belong and move with the cascading crowds. If you seem scared or intimidated, they smell your fear. Like other female reporters, I have grown accustomed to being constantly on guard while doing my job. But that can't guarantee safety. Sexual assaults on women protesters - and journalists - have become commonplace in Cairo. In late January, the United Nations strongly urged the Egyptian government to act, saying it had received 25 reports of assaults on women in Tahrir Square in a single week - 19 of them in a single day. One young woman was hospitalized with lacerations after being raped with a sharp object.

Of all the astounding things that Rihab Assad has witnessed during these days of tumult, one stood out for her: the sight of a woman with a megaphone leading a crowd of demonstrators in chants. "And all of these men just chanting after her, repeating what she said," said Assad, an office manager in her 40s who lives in Cairo. "To me, this was something entirely new. " For many Egyptian women, the massive street demonstrations that have shaken the authoritarian rule of President Hosni Mubarak have also raised hopes of a more personal brand of liberation.

Egypt's women Re "Protests raise hope for women's rights," Feb. 3 It's wonderful to see women, who have been treated as second-class citizens in Egypt, surprisingly being treated with respect during the protests. The story of a group of men repeating the chants of a woman yelling into a megaphone, without objection or criticism, is amazing. It shows that women too have strong opinions and need to voice them. This could be a very small step toward something big. Considering the circumstances, women could be viewed as brave demonstrators who lead the way during these protests.

Of all the astounding things that Rihab Assad has witnessed during these days of tumult, one stood out for her: the sight of a woman with a megaphone leading a crowd of demonstrators in chants. "And all of these men just chanting after her, repeating what she said," said Assad, an office manager in her 40s who lives in Cairo. "To me, this was something entirely new. " For many Egyptian women, the massive street demonstrations that have shaken the authoritarian rule of President Hosni Mubarak have also raised hopes of a more personal brand of liberation.

Dressed in karate uniforms and track suits, the young women break off in pairs and begin sparring, with one kicking and punching while the other tries to block the attacks. The nearly two dozen women and girls gathered in a small gymnasium in this city of 1 million north of Cairo are learning to fight off assailants -- a rarity for most women in the Arab world. Such self-defense classes have popped up in the last year across Egypt as the conservative Muslim country for the first time turns major attention to the issue of sexual harassment.

She sits in a cafe, her laptop unfolded, while at the next table a young man in a suit discreetly reaches for the hand of his fiancee, who blushes and laughs against a window in the night. The couple whisper, almost conspiring. Mai Hawas knows what that's like. She has been engaged twice, but neither romance lasted -- one man was preoccupied with work, the other consumed with money.

It is 1:30 in the morning at the packed Al Rashid nightclub, and the scene is "Arabian Nights" crossed with Studio 54. A private nurse wearing an Islamic veil attends to a heavyset Saudi man in robe and kaffiyeh, giving him an injection at his stage-side table. Some women in the audience are in full hejab, covered in black scarves, veils and robes. Others drip diamonds from their ears and necks.

Upon reading John Daniszewski's article, "Egyptian Woman Scarred by Hate" (May 3), I was outraged. It was, of course, the plight of these women that originally angered me. My outrage came, however, when I read the words of Ahmed Magdoub, a professor at the National Center for Sociological and Criminal Research: "To prevent these crimes, mothers should teach their sons that women have the right to reject men, as men have the right to reject woman, and...

She let out an agonizing cry each time she plunged the cleaver into her husband's chest. Then she dragged his stocky body from the bed to the bathroom and cut his corpse into bits. The gruesome scene from a new movie, "The Woman and the Cleaver," is based on a true story and reflects growing violence in crimes committed by Egyptian women against their husbands or male partners.

Sixteen-year-old Marwa Mohammed Kamal, a good student with a bright future, had just stepped from her apartment in a working-class neighborhood when she saw the man whom she barely knew but with whom she had recently broken off an arranged marriage. He raced toward the tall, striking young woman, flinging a foul-smelling liquid on her face, arm and back. She collapsed in searing agony--the victim of what is becoming an increasingly common attack here. She had been burned with sulfuric acid.

She let out an agonizing cry each time she plunged the cleaver into her husband's chest. Then she dragged his stocky body from the bed to the bathroom and cut his corpse into bits. The gruesome scene from a new movie, "The Woman and the Cleaver," is based on a true story and reflects growing violence in crimes committed by Egyptian women against their husbands or male partners.