Private equity When Lulwah Abdul Rahman protested against her father’s rejection of all would-be husbands because they were from outside her tribe, her life and career were shattered.
Her father locked her in the family home, revoked her right to work at a bank and beat her. When she filed a case to lift her father’s guardianship, he consigned her to a mental institution to “discipline” her, she says.
“The laws and the society confer absolute power on the father and brother, regardless of how cruel or incompetent they are,’’ says Ms Abdul Rahman, 28, who has fled her home and currently lives in a shelter for abused women. “No laws are codified, so your destiny depends on the judge’s mood and background. He could send me home, even knowing that I might be killed.’’
Ms Abdul Rahman is stuck. While Islam grants women legal and financial independence, Saudi customs permit men to deny basic opportunities to women. Without the permission of a male guardian, women have no access to work, education, travel, marriage or even medical treatment.
Some women marry simply to escape abusive fathers, only to find even more oppressive husbands. Others are permitted to work only if they surrender their wages to male relatives, activists say.
Violence against women is not unique to Saudi Arabia – United Nations statistics suggest that one in three women worldwide is subjected to physical or sexual abuse at some point in her life. But, in Saudi Arabia, as a result of the stigma attached to women who sue members of their family, actual numbers are hard to come by.
Government-run programmes have recorded sexual or physical abuse against women and children in more than 50 cases since 2007, half of which involved abusive husbands or guardians. But most abused women suffer in silence or commit suicide, especially in remote rural areas.
The Saudi government is seeking to address the issue. King Abdullah issued a royal decree in 2005 establishing the national family safety programme, while Princess Adela bint Abdullah, one of his daughters, has publicly urged women to report abuse. A family court was launched in 2007 in some cities, and the social affairs ministry operates several shelters.
However, women’s rights activists say conservative judges simply dismiss cases brought by women against their fathers or male guardians.
In Ms Abdul Rahman’s case, a judge agreed to lift her father's guardianship status, but he appealed. The judge in the appeal court called her a “hussy” and asked her what kind of woman sues her own father. He ordered her to return to the family home, a decision against which she is appealing.
Since ratifying the UN convention on the elimination of all forms of discrimination against women in 2001, the Saudi government has removed some hindrances. For example, Saudi women now have the right to carry their own national identity cards and can stay in hotels without a guardian.
However, men still often refuse to accept women’s ID cards, either out of personal belief or out of fear of their male relatives.
“The Saudi government . . . needs to stop requiring adult women to seek permission from men, not just pretend to stop it,” Sarah Leah Whitson, Middle East director of Human Rights Watch, said in a statement last month.
Saudi women started a campaign last month to remove the guardianship requirement. However, in reaction, a group of women has since set up a counter campaign called “My guardian knows best.”
Amal Khalifa, a former psychologist in Jeddah, says many doctors do not record the causes of injuries that result from domestic violence out of fear of reprisal. She says that judges then dismiss cases for lack of evidence.
“Many girls flee their homes because of deprivation. They feel worthless and trapped,” says Ms Khalifa. “Men tell women that ‘we know what is best for you here’.”
Ms Khalifa has paid for speaking out. Two years ago, she denounced the conduct of a shelter that refused to admit two teenage girls who had been abused by their father and who, after going back to his house, were killed by him. Ms Khalifa was demoted to administrative work at the hospital where she practised.
Ms Abdul Rahman is still waiting for the verdict of her appeal, although she and Waleed Abu Alkhair, her lawyer, are not optimistic.
Ms Abdul Rahman looks at her options. “I have no money, no credit cards, and my father said even if I commit suicide they’ll just change the record.”
