Since studying abroad in
Egypt, volunteering in Palestine, and traveling all over the Middle East, I
have been conducting informal Comparative Harassment Studies. The first thing
you learn when you prepare to study abroad in Egypt is to gird yourself for the
harassment, and to dress and behave to minimize it as much as possible. But for
all the challenges of living in Egypt, and some of my classmates’ horror
stories (boobs grabbed in passing, mobs descending at night), I was never
harassed very badly – it was more a constant, quiet whine than anything truly
dramatic and upsetting. After graduating college, I volunteered in Palestine
and I didn’t experience much harassment at all.
So when I traveled to
Tunisia for work in January 2013, I was surprised to find myself getting
harassed a lot. I’d wander around Avenue Habib Bourguiba, the major artery of
downtown, as night fell (upon reflection, a woman wandering alone at night is
probably bound to attract unwanted attention). People would draw closer to me
as I walked by to say things that I couldn't understand, so no harm done
overall. What bothered me was one guy who wouldn’t leave me alone, even after I
declined to engage and even changed my walking route to avoid him. He caught up
with me, got in very close to me, and continued pestering me: “Are you afraid
of me? Why are you afraid? Don't be afraid!” and repeatedly demanded that I get
coffee with him, despite my increasingly loud and strident refusals. I could
only escape by shutting a taxi door in his face. Nothing awful happened, but it
soured me a little bit to the Tunisian street and made me nervous to go out at
night. It also made me glad that I’d read the Gift of Fear, on the
subject of enforcing boundaries with strangers, on the recommendation of a
travel blogger.
Expats in Tunis said that
the harassment has gotten worse since the revolution, as freedom is often
experienced as impunity and the rule of law is still slowly being
reestablished. But the point is not that harassment is so much worse in Tunisia
than in the other countries I’ve traveled. These observations are clearly
anecdotal, for one, and the difference may be more situational than cultural –
in Egypt and Palestine, I was surrounded by a support network of Americans and
locals alike and tended to travel in a group, while I did lots of solo
wandering in Tunis.
Because the thing is,
lots of Tunisians talked to me when I was wandering around. In addition to the
low-grade harassment, there were also multiple people (well, men) who
approached me to start conversations. A friendly older man who I quizzed on
politics (“Even if Obama came here, he couldn’t get anything done because there
would still be demonstrations”); a guy in his 20s who said he worked for Google
maps and moved from Sidi Bouzid to Tunis after the revolution to get a job; and
a fellow restaurant-goer I chatted with about the milk shortage and the
Sheraton Gate scandal. None made me seriously uncomfortable and the
conversations were valuable insights into Tunisian life and a chance to
practice my French and Arabic, though I did decline their overtures (and they
all made them) for coffee or drinks, which was over my comfort line a little
bit.
And that’s where it gets
tricky. The guidebooks and the anthropologists will all tell you that the
Middle East is one of the most hospitable regions in the world. But a lot of
those guidebooks seem to be written by men, who get to have a slightly larger
comfort zone in unfamiliar places. The point of traveling is to be open to new
people and new experiences – but especially as a woman, it's so hard to tell
where the line is between that famous Arab hospitality and someone creeping on
you. Shut people down early and you risk closing yourself off to new
experiences and to “meeting the locals”; engage the wrong person and you risk
ending up in an unsafe situation, or at least a very uncomfortable one. Isn't
being uncomfortable – stretching yourself outside of your comfort zone – part
of the point of traveling? Maybe there good discomfort and bad discomfort,
discomfort where you’re still basically safe and discomfort where you might not
be.
Being harassed is so
antithetical to the spirit of adventure and exploration one hopes to cultivate
abroad. Adventure is supposed to feel expansive, to make you feel bigger, but
harassment makes you feel small and hemmed-in. And in a very real way, it makes
you adapt your movements and your choices when traveling. I read some awesome
travel bloggers who discuss ways
to make solo lady travel safe and rewarding. I love the practical tips and the
“You can do it” attitude, and I am totally on board. But I seldom see
discussions of the deeper, emotional impact harassment has on women’s travel
experiences, the contradictory impulses of staying safe and exploring. I think
those are conversations worth having.
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