Editor's Note:

Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy spent five weeks in Saudi Arabia filming a documentary on the women's movement for the Discovery Times Channel. This "reporters notebook" essay appeared in the New York Times on April 1, 2005 and is reprinted here with permission.�

The Discovery Times special report on the lives of women in Saudi Arabia airs on Monday, April 4, 2005.


Women of the Holy Kingdom
Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy

As my Saudi Airlines flight approached Jeddah International airport, I saw a sudden flurry of activity around me. Women dressed in modern western attire quickly grabbed their black abayas (long coats) and scarves and made their way to the only bathroom in the economy section of the aircraft. Saudi law requires that all women wear black abayas and head scarves when appearing in public. I quickly donned mine and braced myself for the desert temperature that often soars over 110 degrees in September. 
� 
My first steps on Saudi soil were tentative. Saudi Arabia is one of the most restrictive countries in the world. Here, women have to seek written permission from their male guardians before they can study, work and travel. They are forbidden to drive and mix with men in public. As a Muslim woman, I would have to abide by almost all these rules.

The Saudi immigration officer looked at my Pakistani passport and said �Where is your Mahram (male guardian)?� This was the last thing I expected to hear. My paperwork was in order. It had taken me almost four months to get a journalist�s visa for Saudi Arabia. I pushed my file towards him and urged him to read the permission slip issued by the Saudi embassy in Washington, D.C. But he refused to speak to me, insisting instead that I produce a male guardian or prepare to spend the evening at the airport. One phone call to the Ministry of Information in Jeddah solved my problem. They sent an official from the Ministry to assist me, and within minutes my passport was stamped and I was free to go.

My first week in Saudi Arabia was an eye-opener. Jeddah looks just like any other cosmopolitan city. Its wide boulevards and shopping malls boast the likes of Gucci and Louis Vuitton � and almost every American fast food chain. The streets are lined with BMWs and Hummers. The Saudi government has imported hundreds and thousands of palm trees from all over the world to turn its desert into an oasis. But behind the glitz and glamour, I saw a country desperate for political and social reform.

I was in Saudi Arabia to film a documentary about the country�s nascent women�s movement for the Discovery Times channel. Before coming to the Kingdom, I had scoured western media outlets, looking for any bit of information about this emerging movement. I found none. But when I spoke to Saudi women by phone, I got a different picture. Change was coming to the Kingdom, they kept insisting, and they were going to the lead the way. So, to discover this for myself, I gathered a female crew, diverse enough to represent the United Nations � a Dutch producer, Maiken Baird, and an Asian-American camerawoman, Julie Lei.

The office of Abeer Mishkhas at Arab News was very much like my office in New York, except for the door that segregated her from her male counterparts. Arab News is Saudi Arabia�s largest English language daily and Abeer is one of its most popular female columnists. Her prominent position, however, does not relieve her from having to adhere to the strict segregation policies enforced by the Saudi religious authorities, The Committee for the Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice. �It�s very frustrating to work in this environment,� she told me. �Every once in a while I have to get away from Saudi Arabia, to gain the strength to work here.�

In the half an hour that I spent with her, Abeer�s phone rang incessantly, her land line and then her cell, until she finally said �Saudis cannot live without their cell phones; they don�t even turn them off during Friday prayers at the mosque.� Then Abeer told me how much her life had changed since Sept. 11, 2001. �I can write about almost anything now and I�m not afraid to express my opinions,� she said. Despite this new freedom, she expressed her frustration at being a working woman in Saudi Arabia. �You have to be very determined to work in this country,� she said. �Otherwise you will not make it. It�s a headache to get the various written permissions, to flag down taxi cabs every time you want to go somewhere. But we have to persevere because if we don�t, we Saudi women will never make it anywhere.�

I discovered that this very perseverance is forcing the Saudi Royal family to make concessions to women. The following day, I traveled to Riyadh to attend a women�s conference. As I got out of my car in the parking lot, two security guards came my way, shouting in Arabic. I panicked and jumped back into the car. It turned out that this was the male parking lot; my driver had to drive another five minutes before an arrow pointed us towards the women�s parking lot.

Inside the double doors, women dressed in fashionable clothing walked around, Chanel sunglasses perched on their heads as they leafed through the brochure listing the day�s activities. This was their private world, where men were forbidden entrance. Here the women had the freedom to dress the way they wanted to. There were no rules and regulations.

At a round table in the far corner of the hall, I overheard two women talking about a petition that was being sent to members of the Royal family, pressing them to reform the political system. As I looked around, I noticed my producer, Maiken, deep in conversation with several women who were impressed that we had traveled all this way to report on the women�s movement. They kept nodding their heads and saying, �It�s good to know that the outside world is taking notice of our actions.�

But that afternoon, the real news was not our documentary film � it was the announcement by three Saudi women that they would be candidates in the upcoming municipal elections. The Saudi government had recently announced that it would hold its first nationwide local elections in the country�s history and, though the election laws were ambiguous, they did not ban women from voting or seeking office. Eighteen-year-old Maha Yousef, who was staffing the computers at the entrance of the conference hall, told me that she was delighted to hear that women wanted to participate in the elections. �I would love to vote,� she said, �especially for a female candidate. I think I will help some of them campaign.�

This was good news for the women�s movement, but these women candidates still had a long way to go. That was evident inside the conference hall, where large screens beamed the discussion of their male counterparts from an adjoining hall. The women could join the male discussion; their voices would carry through to the next hall via a speaker system � but not their pictures. These women were still invisible participants at the conference.

Very early on in my visit, I realized that not all Saudi women wanted change. A 35-year-old housewife, Fatin Bakr, invited me to her home to discuss a woman�s role in Islamic society. �We are different from the rest of the world,� she said. �We are pampered and taken care off. Why would we want all the rights that you western women want or have?� I thought that was a fair question coming from a woman who had all her needs taken care of by her husband and her sons, so I asked about women who wanted more rights because they had greater ambitions or because it was not practical for them to seek permission for everything. �In an Islamic society,� she told me, �a woman�s role is to cook and clean and look after her family. She doesn�t have to go out and she doesn�t have to work. So I don�t know why these Saudi women are insisting on getting more rights.�

Fatin is like thousands of other Saudi women who are content with their way of life and oppose granting more rights to women. In fact, I met a male university professor who told me that it was Saudi women and not Saudi men who were holding other women back.

Some women, however, are refusing to be held back. As the election momentum was growing, I met Nadia Bakhurji, a successful architect and the first female to announce her candidacy for the upcoming elections. �I�m not doing anything against my religion or my culture,� she told me. �If anything at all, I am working to enhance the women�s role in Saudi society. After all, we are more than 50 percent of the population.�

In the five weeks that I spent in the Kingdom, I met some articulate, educated and determined women who were anxious to lead the way for future generations. Dr. Thuraya Arrayed works for Saudi Arabia�s largest oil company, ARAMCO, and was one of the first Saudi women to work in the private sector in the 1980�s. She told me that she was worried about her daughter�s future. �What kind of an environment are we leaving them?� she asked. �We should work to make sure that they have more opportunities and a better life than we did.�

The day before I left the Kingdom, the Saudi Royal family announced that women would not be allowed to vote or hold office in the upcoming municipal elections.

I knew from spending time in the kingdom that women like Abeer Mishkhas and Nadia Bakhurji were paving the way for a younger generation of Saudi women eager to take part in the country�s growth. This would be a setback for them but, given their determination, I am sure that when elections are held in 2008, their votes will be counted with the rest of the population.

From The New York Times on the Web (c) The New York
Times Company. Reprinted with Permission.

About Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy

Born in 1978, Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy was the first woman in her Pakistani family to receive a Western education. Obaid graduated from Smith College with a bachelor of arts (honors) in economics and government and then went to complete two master�s degrees from Stanford University in International Policy Studies and Communication.

As a student at Smith College , Obaid was politically and journalistically active, lecturing, and writing for publications such as The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Coast (a Canadian weekly) and several Pakistani newspapers.

Obaid�s career in documentary filmmaking began when she examined the plight of Afghani refugee children in Pakistan for one of her articles. Their situation was so dire, and their stories so compelling, that Obaid decided to return to Pakistan and create a film about them. She petitioned Smith College and New York Times television production division for the grants that would allow her to accomplish her goals. Intrigued by her story, both organizations gave her the funds as well as production equipment and training.

Source: www.sharmeenobaidfilms.com