by Sanjay Govindarajan
To some, the Algerian victory against the French in the Algerian Revolution represents one of the proudest moments in the fight against colonialism. To others, it represents the replacement of the French colonial regime with an authoritarian Algerian nation-state. Regardless of the stance one adopts, representations of Algerian women are used to propagate these narratives. While the colonial narrative justifies French atrocities, all forms of representation have an impact on the region, including on the status of women and the struggle for democracy in which many of these women participated. Because of this, when discussing resistance, it is important to center both women and decolonization in order to ensure a just representation of the country’s struggle for freedom.
Consider Djamila Bouhired, a fighter who was considered a criminal by France, a national symbol by the Algerian government, and a symbol of decolonial resistance by others (Vince 2015). Various representations of her have appeared in popular culture, but few have truly focused on her role as a female freedom fighter. One of these representations is the 1958 Egyptian film Jamila the Algerian. Conceived by actress Magda El-Sabahi to raise awareness of Bouhired’s torture (“The Saint of Egyptian Cinema“), the film describes Bouhired’s resistance efforts and her capture by the French colonists.
The film effectively challenges the dominant national narrative portrayed in other films like The Battle of Algiers (1966), which downplayed the role of women, and as a result Jamila the Algerian was banned for a long time by the Algerian government (Salhi 2013). The Algerian government sought to use the memory of Bouhired and other female resistance fighters to promote their own pro-government version of history, and this version fails to give appropriate credit to female resistance fighters, many of whom went on to become fierce critics of the government.
Any analysis, however, is incomplete without addressing the harm caused by the narratives that sustained the French colonization of Algeria. Orientalist narratives frequently depict resistance as terrorism (“Hero, Victim, Terrorist“) and misrepresent the role of women (Lazreg 2019). These narratives are depicted—and challenged—in Jamila the Algerian. Bouhired is depicted attacking a café with French soldiers, which is used to justify her arrest, torture, and lack of a fair trial. However, resistance is much deeper than the attack on the café (justified or not). For example, in the beginning of the film, Bouhired’s family tells her about the importance of education, but she responds that the French textbooks are “full of lies” (that is, promoting the French narrative). Her rejection of that narrative can thus be seen as a form of resistance to French colonization.
After the war, Bouhired continued her active involvement in politics, but her status as a symbol (instead of a hero) led to her being treated like “public property” (Vince 2015), which led to her political sidelining and unwanted influence in her personal life. She participated in the 2019 anti-government protests (“Algerian women embrace a spirit of resilience“), further exemplifying how her resistance transcends her involvement in armed groups.
Because patriarchal and imperialist narratives complicate studying the situation of Algerian women (Lazreg 2019), the film’s rejection of those narratives is also a form of resistance, especially since these narratives can have a real impact on the country. Thus, the film serves as a representation of multiple forms of resistance: both the armed resistance it depicts, and the perspective it presents.
But why should giving this perspective be considered a form of resistance? Colonialism and authoritarianism depend on misrepresentation to justify their rule and suppress dissent. By censoring the film, the Algerian government spread their own narrative about women and resistance that justified their regime, and by dehumanizing Algerians, France justified their human rights abuses against them. Challenging these narratives has directly undermined the stability of these systems of oppression. In the 1950s, this led to pressure that prevented France from executing Bouhired, contributing to the liberation of Algeria from colonialism. If challenging the dominant narrative can have such an impact, it is clearly a form of resistance.
But this mandates that we counter misrepresentations that inaccurately portray women’s resistance. For Algeria, we can do this by finding representations that, like Jamila the Algerian, center Algerian women, and amplify depictions that combat orientalism. Ensuring fair and accurate representation of women is thus a key step to achieving justice and liberation in Algeria and throughout the Middle East and North Africa.
Sanjay Govindarajan is a third-year undergraduate student specializing in mathematics at the University of Toronto.
WGS340 WOMEN & REVOLUTION IN THE MIDDLE EAST 