This guest post by Professor of History, Nancy Reynolds considers the commodities that became prominent rallying icons during the 2011 Egyptian uprising.
One of the most trenchant calls of Egyptian protesters since the January 25th uprising has been to make visible the invisible forces of power in Egyptian society. Authoritarianism and widespread corruption under Husni Mubarak, often consolidated by broad application of the Emergency Law, hid from public scrutiny and debate, the mechanisms of state surveillance, illegal detention, torture, vote counting, and the distribution of public funds. These were only a few of the grievances that Egyptians held against their government.
Throughout the course of the revolution, mundane objects of everyday life—themselves usually invisible from public view—emerged as flashpoints of political change and its limits.
During a protest in Tahrir on December 17, 2011 the bright blue bra of a woman protester attacked by the military electrified tens of thousands of Egyptian women who came out three days later to protest the harsh policies of the new military regime. In the wake of this incident, Hillary Clinton—then serving as U.S. Secretary of State—used some of the sharpest language the U.S. had employed against the new regime of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces to condemn the “systematic degradation of women” that “disgraces the new state.” The bra’s exposure became emblematic of institutional support of hidden violence against women.
Images of the “Blue Bra Girl,” as the unknown protestor became known, circulated widely in the Egyptian and international press, went viral on social media, and decked the walls of Cairo. It was a surprisingly “empty and overflowing” symbol (to borrow Joan Scott’s now iconic description of how gendered power is expressed in cultural symbols).
The protester’s face obscured by her pulled-up shirt and the clarity of her colorful bra on exposed skin rendered her recognizable “as a woman” rather than as an Egyptian protester with a particular political goal in a specific set of local circumstances. In the image’s circulation, the commodity became a stand in for the wearer, and its gender-specificity invited audiences to read a wide array of agendas into her situation.
Normally “invisible” commodities help people “recognize” a connection to others but they also can create a sense of intimacy that belies real knowledge and ultimately impedes meaningful solidarity. Egyptian graffiti artist and blogger Ganzeer pointed this out in his use of the Blue Bra Girl image, in the wake of Clinton’s comments. His art suggests that the translation of foreign identification with icons of strife into diplomatic policy is not always welcome—consider the U.S financial support of Egypt’s military.
Understanding the cultural meanings of consumer objects requires deep attention to local context. Take for example, the reaction of Tahrir’s crowds on 10 February 2011 when Mubarak announced to protesters that he would not heed their calls and step down from office. Many Egyptians picked up their shoes and waved the normally hidden soles toward the giant screens televising Mubarak’s speech. The exposure of dirty shoe soles to signal disrespect or contempt is not new or even culturally specific to the Arab world—many Americans remember the famous incident during George W. Bush’s visit to Iraq in 2008, when an Iraqi journalist threw his shoes at the President to protest the U.S. occupation. Likewise, in Egyptian popular culture, shoes have long been symbols of doubling and deception, and they have been used to signal resentment toward external imperial power.
Commodities as intimate and quotidian as bras and shoes can act as compelling instruments of mobilization because they suggest the pervasive reach of power beyond the realm of formal politics into the mundane aspects of personal lives. Three long years into the revolution, many Egyptians continue to struggle for meaningful political reform to dismantle legal institutions that contain political opposition. Increased transparency in the political process—and the legalization of public protest—could give Egyptians a reason to keep their shoes on their feet and their lingerie under wraps, if they so choose.
See the entirety of this blog series on the Egyptian uprising, beginning with the late Samer Soliman's epilogue excerpt written immediately after the outbreak of protests in Tahrir.
Nancy Y. Reynolds is Associate Professor of History at Washington University in St. Louis and author of A City Consumed: Urban Commerce, the Cairo Fire, and the Politics of Decolonization in Egypt.
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