In Lebanon's Streets, Women Denounce a Double Burden

In a country viewed as one of the most liberal in the region, women are crying out against discriminatory laws and religious courts governing their lives. AFP
In a country viewed as one of the most liberal in the region, women are crying out against discriminatory laws and religious courts governing their lives. AFP
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In Lebanon's Streets, Women Denounce a Double Burden

In a country viewed as one of the most liberal in the region, women are crying out against discriminatory laws and religious courts governing their lives. AFP
In a country viewed as one of the most liberal in the region, women are crying out against discriminatory laws and religious courts governing their lives. AFP

Marching along with hundreds of other women in Lebanon's capital, 41-year-old Sahar says she had twice the reasons to join in the nation's mass anti-system protests than any man.

"As women, we're doubly oppressed," she said passionately, while around her hundreds waved Lebanese flags.

Women have been at the forefront of Lebanon's mass street movement since October 17 demanding an overhaul of a political system seen as incompetent and corrupt.

Like their male counterparts, they have denounced their inability to alleviate a raft of woes from a deteriorating economy to unclean water and endless power cuts, AFP reported.

But in a country viewed as one of the most liberal in the region, they are also crying out against discriminatory laws and religious courts governing their lives.

"On top of everything we suffer as Lebanese people, there's a whole bunch of laws that are unfair for women," said Sahar, bouncing on her toes in a green T-shirt and jeans.

In a country where 37 women have died from domestic violence since the start of 2018, female protesters are demanding better prevention and application of a 2014 law to punish battery.

Instead of what they see as antiquated religious courts, they want a national law for all Lebanese -- whatever their sect -- to grant civil marriage, and rule on issues of divorce and child custody.

They ask for the amendment of a century-old law governing citizenship that does not allow Lebanese women to pass down their nationality to their children.

- Custody battles -

During a women's march on Sunday, protesters held up a long banner inscribed in red paint with the words: "Our revolution is feminist".

"I can't get my mother's nationality, but I can defend her revolution," read another sign, referring to the 1925 law that deprives children of Lebanese women from their rights as citizens.

Zoya Jureidini Rouhana, head of a the Kafa non-governmental organization, explained the challenges ahead in the tiny multi-confessional country.

"There is no single law for personal status but different legislation for each court from 15 different religious sects in Lebanon," she said.

Among the most contentious issues is child custody, with religious authorities for each community applying a different limit to a divorced mother's custody.

- 'Part of the revolution' -

Rim, a 24-year-old student, said she has been taking to the streets since October 17 -- for cleaner water, fewer power cuts and an end to perceived state graft.

"As a young Lebanese woman, I demand a secular system and for religious courts to be abolished," she said.

Women have been at the forefront of the protests since they started last month, sparked by a proposed tax on phone calls via free applications like WhatsApp before blowing up into general rage against the system.

In the movement's first few days, a woman who kicked an armed ministerial bodyguard in the groin became a symbol of the growing protests.

In recent days, female high school and university students have eagerly spoken to local television stations to ask for politicians to stop wasting their future.

Women have taken to Beirut's main square after dark holding candles and banging pots and pans, in a clamouring racket that echoed around the capital's homes.

Debate around women's rights has gained momentum in recent years, but activists says much remains to be done.

According to AFP, in 2014, parliament passed a law to punish domestic violence, but rights advocates have demanded it be reformed to accelerate trials and increase sentences.

Among the protesters, Roba, 33, a lawyer, said women's rights were crucial for radical change.

"Women's issues are an integral part of the revolution," she said.

"Any revolution that doesn't address women's issues is wanting."



Lebanon's Public Schools Reopen amid War and Displacement

Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
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Lebanon's Public Schools Reopen amid War and Displacement

Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)

In the quiet seaside town of Amchit, 45 minutes north of Beirut, public schools are finally in session again, alongside tens of thousands of internally displaced people who have made some of them a makeshift shelter.

As Israeli strikes on Lebanon escalated in September, hundreds of schools in Lebanon were either destroyed or closed due to damage or security concerns, according to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA).

Of around 1,250 public schools in Lebanon, 505 schools have also been turned into temporary shelters for some of the 840,000 people internally displaced by the conflict, according to the Lebanese education ministry.

Last month, the ministry started a phased reopening, allowing 175,000 students - 38,000 of whom are displaced - to return to a learning environment that is still far from normal, Reuters reported.

At Amchit Secondary Public School, which now has 300 enrolled students and expects more as displaced families keep arriving, the once-familiar spaces have transformed to accommodate new realities.

Two-and-a-half months ago, the school was chosen as a shelter, school director Antoine Abdallah Zakhia said.

Today, laundry hangs from classroom windows, cars fill the playground that was once a bustling area, and hallways that used to echo with laughter now serve as resting areas for families seeking refuge.

Fadia Yahfoufi, a displaced woman living temporarily at the school, expressed gratitude mixed with longing.

"Of course, we wish to go back to our homes. No one feels comfortable except at home," she said.

Zeina Shukr, another displaced mother, voiced her concerns for her children's education.

"This year has been unfair. Some children are studying while others aren't. Either everyone studies, or the school year should be postponed," she said.

- EDUCATION WON'T STOP

OCHA said the phased plan to resume classes will enrol 175,000 students, including 38,000 displaced children, across 350 public schools not used as shelters.

"The educational process is one of the aspects of resistance to the aggression Lebanon is facing," Education Minister Abbas Halabi told Reuters

Halabi said the decision to resume the academic year was difficult as many displaced students and teachers were not psychologically prepared to return to school.

In an adjacent building at Amchit Secondary Public School, teachers and students are adjusting to a compressed three-day week, with seven class periods each day to maximize learning time.

Nour Kozhaya, a 16-year-old Amchit resident, remains optimistic. "Lebanon is at war, but education won't stop. We will continue to pursue our dreams," she said.

Teachers are adapting to the challenging conditions.

"Everyone is mentally exhausted ... after all this war is on all of us," Patrick Sakr, a 38-year-old physics teacher, said.

For Ahmad Ali Hajj Hassan, a displaced 17-year-old from the Bekaa region, the three-day school week presents a challenge, but not a deterrent.

"These are the conditions. We can study despite them," he said.