I don’t have a driver’s license. I attribute this to growing up mostly
in Germany, where the legal age for this life skill is 18.
But
now, having surpassed that legal limbo by two years, I’m out of excuses.
And, considering the most recent events concerning women’s rights in
Saudi Arabia, I may finally be motivated to get behind the wheel if for
no other reason than my gratitude that it is actually within the power
of my sex to do so.
It’s important to note Saudi Arabia is a notoriously oppressive place for women.
Saudi
women can’t open bank accounts, work, travel or go to school without
consent of their male “companions” — fathers, brothers or husbands who
must accompany them at all times in public places. But I’m pretty sure,
as a woman with a concentration in human rights, that mobility is
something that should be afforded to all sexes.
It shouldn’t be a privilege because it shouldn’t be political.
Saudi
Arabia is the last country in the world with a de facto “ban” on women
driving. Irrespective of the fact that there’s no official law
preventing women from possessing licenses, they’re not issued them
because of a multitude of unjustifiable biases.
My personal
favorite is the absurd and overreaching claim that driving
“automatically affects the ovaries and pushes the pelvis upward,”
therefore damning these reckless heathens’ future children to “clinical
problems of varying degrees.”
But primarily, of course, the most prevalent “reasoning” preventing Saudi women from driving is religious sexism.
Clerics
insist allowing women to drive will promote “licentiousness.” Because
of religious edicts’ pervasive influence on the Saudi monarchy, the 25
to 35 women who joined Oct. 26’s “Women’s Driving Campaign” were
detained for something that isn’t even specifically illegal for them to
do. These activists not only defiantly drove but also posted their
equalitarian efforts to YouTube.
Several were then promptly pulled over from their errand outings for their “activities that disturb public peace.”
The
protest is a continuation of the first of its kind in the early 1990s
when 50 brazen women who drove through Saudi’s capital city were jailed,
had their travel rights revoked and had their employment terminated.
Again, for a cultural custom and not anything actually illegal.
The action taken against the ban’s most recent “offenders” was admittedly less harsh.
The
women were stopped in their cars until their legally mandated male
guardians could collect them. They then signed a declaration promising
not to drive again.
Some of the women claimed those passing in
other cars overlooked the fact these women were driving, let alone
unaccompanied. This is a hopeful reflection of Saudi Arabia’s more
recent progressive views on women propagated by the current king,
Abdullah.
He has made steps toward feminist reform, including
the 2011 ruling that women can run for office and vote in local
elections — which will be enacted in 2015. He’s also appointed 30 women —
the first ever — to the Shura Council.
Eventually, such
governance may overturn the opinion that women are irrational creatures
with hormones as controlling of their behavior as their patriarchal
oppressors.
The driving campaign itself included an explosive
online petition, which amassed more than 16,000 signatures. The petition
calls on the government to actually provide “to the citizens a valid
and legal justification” for the sexist road restriction, AKA a better
reason — like a law — for discrimination other than an alleged “societal
consensus.”
But with any luck and/or true reason, such a law will never come to pass.
— ashhendr@indiana.edu
Saudi women driven to drive
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