It has been over a week since the historic occasion in Saudi Arabia in which women got the right to drive for the first time on June 24. While most women eagerly anticipated the new driving law, many have pragmatic concerns now, especially expat women.

The celebratory atmosphere continues — a viral photo of a traffic police handing out roses to a female driver is trending on Twitter juxtaposed with smear videos circulating on WhatsApp showing mayhem on the roads. This sums up the mixed reactions and more so the ambiguity quite well. The bystanders are curious — and everybody seems to be asking one question only: have you seen any women driving on the streets yet?

Also read: Saudi female drivers had a long, painful journey to see ban end

Much is being written and documented about Saudi women, so I decided to speak to three Pakistan women to get a sense of their anticipations and inhibitions post the ban lift.

Hira Shah, a freelance creative and media strategist, was looking forward to driving only to find out, once the ban was lifted, that she couldn’t apply for a driving licence at the moment since she was living in the country under her husband’s Iqama (residence permit). “This has dampened the spirit to some extent of those who were eagerly awaiting the change,” she says.

As of now, expat women, who are dependents and registered under the name of their sponsor, are unable to apply for a driving licence, until further notice. The system is currently accommodating only Saudi women and expat women, who are under their employer’s sponsorship or are married to Saudi men, leaving other women feeling excluded.

Thirty-four-year-old Yusra Masood, a dentist by profession and a stay-at-home mom, got frustrated with the system while trying to create an absher account (required in order to obtain a driving license) online and failing to do so. “I decided to go find out for myself,” she said. “I went with my husband to the muroor (traffic police) office as I speak little Arabic. They told him it will take one-two weeks until dependents can register,” she narrated. “But we all know the laidback attitude in this country and lack of time management skills, so they will take their own sweet time.”

Women who have already obtained their driving licences have called the process “smooth and well-organised”. For the rest, “things are still unclear causing a lot of confusion regarding the new law,” says Yusra, adding that they (government) need to come up with a strategy and a proper channel to incorporate all women into their online system and resolve the issue at hand.

Additionally, it has also been reported that the government wants to implement the new law at a glacial pace by regulating the number of women driving. In the absence of an official verdict, there is speculation on what their reasoning might be.

Despite the circumstances, Hira describes how she never thought the ban would be lifted and to see it happen is rather a pleasant surprise. “Of course, the new driving law will have a significant impact on my life,” she says, adding that she’s been driving in Karachi since the age of 18, until she moved to Saudi Arabia eight years ago.

“It may seem trivial in the grand scheme of things, but it’s not just about getting behind the wheel or only relevant to women who want to drive. Instead, it’s about asserting your independence and taking charge of your life,” says the 39-year-old. “And when that fundamental right is taken away from someone by restricting their ability and freedom of movement, it can really cause a lot of agitation and a sense of low self-worth,” she further adds.

As for Yusra who was born and raised in Saudi Arabia, she never gave it much thought. But while studying in Karachi, she drove for six years. “Even if I don’t drive in Saudi on a regular basis, I would like to have the option at least,” she said. “Driving is a need, enabling family members to divide household chores — and certainly not a luxury, as perceived here.”

According to the Saudi Department of Statistics and Information’s 2017 report, Saudi Arabia is home to over 12 million expatriates. Out of which, 3.8m are women.

Zaib Shahzad, a Pakistani-Canadian freelance photographer, has made several trips back and forth between Canada and America, and is an experienced driver. But here, her parents worry about her safety on the road. One of their biggest fears is: “What if you have some trouble on the road or your car breaks down? You can barely speak Arabic.”

The language barrier continues to create problems for expats here. The men learn Arabic, often because of the nature of their jobs, and in order to get by in the country. For expat women though, especially those who are not employed, it has not been easy — mainly due to their lack of exposure to local residents and being heavily dependent on their fathers or husbands to chaperone them around and communicate on their behalf.

But something else is putting off Zaib too. “The traffic and regulatory conditions are giving me second thoughts. We are living in a country where it is common to see boys younger than 12 years of age driving,” says the 33-year-old, who has lived in Saudi Arabia since the age of seven.

In 2016, the Ministry of Municipal and Rural Affairs reported road accidents as the leading cause of deaths in Saudi Arabia. Furthermore, the three women interviewed expressed concerns over harassment on the streets and how men might behave upon seeing women in the driver’s seat for the first time — and rightly so — with gender segregation having been an intrinsic part of the society’s fabric.

Amid these inhibitions, there is good news as well. In a series of social reforms in 2017, an anti-harassment law has also been approved. Additionally, it has been mentioned that female police officers will be introduced to cater to the women drivers.

If integrated properly, the female officers can provide great support for novice drivers, and aid in balancing gender power dynamics at play.

Following the historic moment, the internet was flooded with videos and photos of social media influencers and affluent women behind the wheel documenting this victory — a positive sign which should encourage other women to do the same. However, it is interesting to note that that Saudi women belonging to the middle and lower socioeconomic class are still quite hesitant, and one reason for that is decades of cultural conditioning.

“There needs to be a whole paradigm shift, and people certainly need to be educated on this,” says Hira. “The only way to sustain such a transformational change is to alter attitudes and behaviours as well.”

Hina Zahir Imam is a freelance journalist based in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.
Twitter: hinazimam

Published in Dawn, July 6th, 2018