Egyptian women !!! Look. Seriously.
I’m writing this while sitting at a small, slightly rickety beach cafe here in Hurghada Marina— typing on a screen that’s got a massive crack across the middle, so excuse any typos if my fingers slip. The sun is hitting the Red Sea, and I’m watching a group of tourists walk by, looking a bit confused about the local vibe. It hit me then.. people always ask me the same old, tired question: “What’s the deal with Egyptian women? Are they oppressed?”
Honestly? Real talk? It’s exactly the opposite of the nonsense you see on those Western news channels. In Egypt, we don’t just “give” women rights like we’re doing them a favour; we treat them like the literal Queens they’ve been for five thousand years. No joke.
The Pharaonic DNA: Leading from the Front
It didn’t start yesterday, or even a century ago. If you look at the history of Egyptian women, you’ll realize they were the only ones in the ancient world who actually had their lives together. While women in other societies were treated like property, our grandmothers — we’re talking way back in the Old Kingdom — were legally equal to men.
Think about the lady Tiye or Queen Meritamen.. these weren’t just “wives”. They were powerhouses. Egyptian women owned land, managed massive estates, and stood in court without needing a man to hold their hand. And don’t even get me started on Hatshepsut. Man, she didn’t just rule; she dominated as a Pharaoh, wore the royal beard, and built temples that still make architects cry today. That “Pharaonic DNA” of leadership? It didn’t disappear. It’s still right here, walking the streets of Cairo and Alexandria.
Scholarship and the Sitt al-Bayt
When the Islamic era rolled in, that respect didn’t fade — it just got a new layer of grace. Egyptian women became beacons of education. Ever heard of Sayyida Nafisa? People would travel for months — literally months on camels — just to hear her talk about law and faith.
In a typical Egyptian home, the woman is the Sitt al-Bayt (The Lady of the House). And trust me, what she says, goes. She manages the finances, the kids’ education, and the family’s social standing. She is the anchor. Always has been.
The Modern Reality: Chivalry Isn’t Dead Here
Now, let’s talk about the stuff the “experts” won’t tell you. You want to talk about equality? Let’s talk about protection and honour.
If you’re on a packed, sweaty bus in Cairo or a crowded Metro carriage, and an Egyptian woman steps in — watch what happens. It’s like a wave. Men will literally jump out of their seats to give her a place to sit. It’s not because she’s weak. Absolutely not. It’s because she is a Queen, and in our culture, a Queen doesn’t stand when there are men around to provide a seat.
She gets priority in every queue. Whether it’s at a government office or a bakery, people will step aside and say, “After you, Ya Sitt” (O Lady).
Protection and Provision (The Man’s Job)
In our society, the man has one main mission: to be the shield. Whether it’s a father, a brother, a husband, or even a son who’s just started his first job — the Egyptian man is raised to provide. He handles the rent, the food, the bills, and the security.
An Egyptian woman can be a CEO or a doctor, and her salary is hers to keep. Every single piastre. But the man? He is legally and socially obligated to cover every expense for his family. He protects her from the “Awez” (the need) and ensures she never has to struggle for the basics.
A Micro-Story from the Docks
Wait, backtracking a second — this is important. I was at the marina yesterday chatting with a boat captain named Ahmed (or maybe Mohammed? Look, everyone’s named one of those two here). He was exhausted, salt in his beard, hands rough from the ropes. I asked him why he works 14-hour shifts during the high season.
He just laughed and said, “My friend, I have two daughters and a wife at home. If they want a new dress or the best fruit from the market, I must bring it. They are my bosses. I am just the worker.”
That’s the soul of Egypt that you won’t find in a textbook.
The Blessing of the House (No Nursing Homes)
Here’s a plot twist for you: we don’t do nursing homes. The idea of putting an elderly Egyptian woman in a facility is considered a massive disgrace to the family name. She stays in the center of the home. She is the “Baraka” — the blessing. Her children and grandchildren compete to serve her until her last day. Even the law backs her up; if there’s a divorce, she gets the house and financial support. She is never, ever left alone to rot in some institution.
Final Thought (Before my coffee gets cold)
Side note: the coffee at this cafe is actually surprisingly good today, not like that metallic stuff they served last week.
Anyway, where was I? Oh right.
When you book your tour with Hurghada Tours Hub, don’t just look at the statues of Isis and Hathor. Look at the women selling papyrus, the ones leading archaeological digs, and the ones managing their families with iron wills and warm smiles. You’ll see that Egyptian women aren’t just part of the history — they are the ones writing the future.
They are cherished. They are protected. And they are, quite frankly, the real bosses of the Nile.