Hello all,
Below is the next section of our special series on Clara Zetkin, Islam and the hijab. The other sections can be read here and here. There will probably be another two or three further posts, and Patrons of this page will then be able to access everything in one document as part of preparations for an online meeting and discussion in November.
If you are enjoying this material, or seeing our page for the first time, then please consider supporting our work and expanding its content/scope by either becoming a Patron of this page or by sending us a ‘tip’ to keep us caffeinated and translating via Ko-Fi here. Translation projects such as this would not be possible without our supporters across the globe and we are truly grateful for your support.
Many thanks for your support. The next post should be up within the next few days. Please spread the word!
——
The bright electric light falls on colourful, richly embroidered garments and veils which do not cover up the faces of the women, but merely increase the gracefulness of the figures and their movements; it falls on people whose expression of being strongly and inwardly seized by this moment is far more interesting than the colourful, exotic splendour of clothing on display. You can see on their faces that a message of salvation has sounded for them, a message that stirs their inner being. Each and every one of them is aware of a new emotional life that is struggling to express itself, that closely links them together and that extends far, far beyond the club’s walls. To the old woman, the proletarian revolution is a comfort in the twilight of her life; to the adult woman, it calls to a new life full of struggle and work; to the young girl, it is a warning to equip herself for what is to come. So it is that all of these women are joined in one feeling, united by one will.
The assembled women sing ‘The Internationale’. I have heard the communist song of hope and struggle sung on hundreds of occasions, including by Russian male and female proletarians, and it has always been sung with the same steadfast joy of conviction and revolutionary readiness for action. Never have the words and melody of the anthem sounded as solemn or as enraptured as they did coming from the mouths of the Muslim women and girls in the Muslim Women’s Club in Tiflis. Their hearts lived in the song and their whole being were submerged in the performance. They sing ‘The Internationale’ in the mood of the pious Protestant receiving his evening meal in the conviction that he becomes connected to ‘his Lord Jesus Christ’ and ‘his God’ by taking the wine and by breaking bread. The women are overwhelmed, blessed by the feeling that the song captures within it an acknowledgement of their humanity and their dignity as human beings, a recognition of their equality with men, and that this acknowledgement will see them become one with millions and millions of others on earth.
This mood breaks forth in the speeches given by several Muslim women who are leading figures in the club. Among them there is a young comrade who is so excited that she can barely speak. There is indescribable joy about the new value and position of women, about their integration into the community of freedom fighters that spans the globe. This joy is mixed with great gratitude for the liberating work of the proletarian revolution and the soviet order, and this rings out in holy pledges to protect and expand the soviet republic, and to serve the world revolution. But memories of unspeakable suffering, of humiliation and bitterness can also be heard in the speeches. The speaker asks: ‘Will this torture ever return, will it become the crushing fate of these blossoming daughters?’ ‘It would be better to die than for this to ever happen’, is the passionate response from a member of the audience listening attentively. Stormy applause makes it clear that this outburst of emotion reflects the general mood.
One of the speakers cries out: ‘What were our lives like before the revolution?’ ‘Our fathers sold us like young lambs when we hardly 10 or 12 years of age – sometimes even earlier. The man demanded our love and affection, even if we thought he was disgusting. Were he so inclined, then he would hit or whip us. Day and night we had to serve him as if we were his slave. And when he had enough of us, he would throw us out. He would hire us out to strangers as their sweethearts. If he felt like it, he would then starve us. He took our favourite daughter from us, who was our comfort and the help for our weak arms. He bartered her away, just as he had bought us. No Mullah stood by us in our distress. And where was a judge to rule in our favour? But, dear sisters, how different things now are! The revolution has arrived like a rainstorm on dry land. It has crushed injustice and servitude. It has brought rights and freedom to the poor and oppressed. Our fathers are no longer allowed to force us into another man’s home at a young age. We choose the man, and he will never be allowed to lord it over us, but should be our friend and comrade. We want to work and struggle alongside him, to build the new order with him. A new life must come into being for all. The soviets have written a new law. It states that we are humans too, like the men, and that we are free and have the same rights as men do. We too can choose the people – men and women – that we wish to see in the soviets. We too can take part in the soviets. If we have a complaint to raise against our husbands, a neighbour, or a person in charge, then we go to the people’s court. If we are in the right then he will rule in our favour. Nobody asks us whether we are followers of Muhammed, Moses or Jesus. The soviets brought us salvation. We are eternally grateful to them.’
Comrades who have been working among the Muslim women in Tiflis for some time explain the mood and tone of the assembly to me. With a few exceptions, these women are from the poorest sections of the population. Most of their families emigrated here before the revolution, lured by the hope of finding an easier and more pleasant way of life in the city than in the Steppe or the mountains. The man earns his bread as a trader, day labourer, servant, carrier, drover or something else outside of the home. The woman stays with the children within their squalid quarters. The move to the city ensured that she lost the old economic basis of her existence. Far removed from her hut or tent, from the field and the hearth, she goes without the primitive means or opportunities for productive work. She no longer uses the products of her labour for the household. Everything that she needs must be purchased, and she has no money for this. Only the man has money. As a result of this economic transformation, in the man’s eyes she loses significance as a partner in maintaining the household. The economic basis of the old patriarchal family has been shattered. But the authority of the man in the patriarchy continues, and under the worst possible conditions for the woman at that. More than ever, more harshly than ever before, she senses that she is a slave, her husband’s property. Living habits, traditions, language and religion separate her from the rest of the city population, even from the poor. Her poverty, her isolation and her desperation increase to the extreme. She is like a leaf that has been torn from a branch and then blown along by the wind. In the literal sense of the word, the revolution came to the women in Tiflis as a saviour. With it, unexpected and astonishing things came into their lives.
The female comrades tell me of how significant the women’s club is to Muslim women in the city. Here the most energetic, talented and eager to learn come together in order to receive their first socio-political education and training, and to acquire knowledge of all kinds. Individual women then join the Communist Party and train as propagandists, and organisers of their fellow tribesmen and fellow believers. But the club is also a place of refuge for helpless and defenceless Muslim women who wish to fight back against an injustice or against the danger of sinking into poverty and apathy. The club has ‘Sections for Cultural Activities’. Old women with white hair sit alongside budding girls and both of them endeavour, with a touching enthusiasm, to read and write letters. Courses and lectures provide elementary knowledge of the natural sciences and the humanities. Every day at a certain time, three qualified comrades provide legal advice – something that the women particularly seek and appreciate. Of course, the legal proclamation of equality could not change the centuries-old attitude of men towards women with one flick of a magic wand. The women must often win their rights in court. In the club there are also patching, sewing and embroidery lessons. Most of the Muslim women who moved to the city did not learn the craftsmanship of their female predecessors. The younger women in particular do not even know how to hold a needle.
As the comrades greatly emphasise, the aim of the Communists, of course, is to integrate the mass of Muslim women into the social economy as well. But this is difficult in Georgia so long as modern industry remains in its infancy. It will only begin to develop quickly when the Soviet government finishes building the large electricity factory close to Tiflis on the river Kura. Meanwhile, in some cases the Zhenotdel of the Communist Party is helping Muslim women to find a job. Several of them work in the cardboard factory and the tobacco and textile industry. As soon as the club has moved to a larger premises, the women comrades want to organise women’s artels – labour cooperatives for women. Productive collaborative work will increase the Muslim women’s confidence, teach them a sense of solidarity and thereby their understanding of communism, as well as to help the club expand.