All the Saudi Ladies

A couple of days ago, having just landed in Amsterdam Schiphol, and with only an hour until my connecting flight was due to board, I found a seat in the airport’s quiet lounge and reflected on my recent trip. I was returning from a 10-day visit to Saudi Arabia, which had seen me take in the air of the town I grew up in – Al Khobar. Since moving away ten years ago, I only really visit sporadically, to see family, and enjoy it every time I go, despite the mild cabin fever that spending more than a long weekend in Saudi induces. The place still strikes me as dusty and a little bit stunted in terms of socioeconomic growth, but it was my first home and I always feel a sense of heavy nostalgia when I visit. Saudi is a country that hasn’t really been touched by the fervor and violence of the Arab Spring, and has managed to scrape through by appeasing the unhappy (or at least attempting to) with very minor reforms. These have been slightly eclipsed by the publicity surrounding some of the ridiculous arguments being slung across the battlefield over the issue of women being allowed to drive – women still can’t in Saudi, bizarrely, and apparently gearsticks will provoke too much excitement and may lead a good pious girl astray (thanks male logic!!). 

One of the reforms that has been passed, though, is this – the change in law that permitted (Saudi) women to work in certain areas of the public sector, namely lingerie shops (How no one had addressed the hypocrisy of men measuring ladies for bras in a country where they wouldn’t even be allowed to speak in any other circumstance before baffles me!) and department store make-up desks. Previously, women could only really work in health, education, housework or childcare. I was keen to witness this for myself, and went out of my way to wander into La Senza and Debenhams whenever I was out. A couple of times, I spoke to one or two of these women and asked them how they felt about the changes that have allowed them to work in their current occupations. The answers I heard weren’t emotional; they weren’t triumphant feminist speeches or suggestions that the reforms had not gone far enough (a sentiment much-expressed by many others), but simple thanks and comments that suggested, to me, that this wasn’t a political matter for these women. They weren’t gushingly grateful for the opportunity, they were just glad that they could earn a bit of a living instead of relying completely on their husbands’ wage-packet. The women that work in these jobs aren’t affluent Saudis – admittedly, one lady on a make-up counter seemed to be a bored lady of leisure, seeking a bit of occupation – but in the majority, these were ladies from Saudi’s working-class, who needed jobs more than wanted them. Having not heard mention of any other similar changes, and given the publicity the lingerie shop story had been given, I was surprised when I witnessed Saudi ladies, in full niqab, serving on checkout desks in supermarkets, although they were only allowed to serve other women.

I was becoming constantly more aware of a marked change in the social atmosphere of my old home. A few hours window-shopping pointed out to me the increasing level of risk that clothes shops were now daring. Shop windows are, in many malls, now adorned with mannequins striking bold poses, wearing strappy tops and ruffled mini-skirts. Call me a philistine, but even living in Europe for the past 10 years hasn’t numbed me so much as to let this fly without a second glance! Of course, there are still the usual emblems of theocracy and morality around, as muttawa (religious police) still prowl shopping malls and women who dare to forego the abaya attract fierce stares and bemused glances.

I left Saudi knowing that it was, very slowly, transforming into a place quite different from the one I had grown up in. With this in mind, I can’t deny I'm excited for my next visit - whenever that will be - and will be on the lookout for more signs that Saudi is approaching a more liberal stance in social affairs.