التاريخ الاجتماعي للشرق الأوسط بعدسة جندرية

A Social History of the Middle East Through a Gender Lens

Two English-language books provide valuable insights into the social history of the Middle East, focusing specifically on gender perspectives. These books shed light on the significant progress made in this field within the region over the past two decades.

Bader Mousa Al-Saif 

Since the 1990s, the study of Middle Eastern social history has experienced significant growth and advancement, particularly in the areas of family history and gender studies. The reviewed books exemplify this trend, showcasing the expanding presence and development of Middle Eastern family dynamics and gendered histories. Margaret Meriwether's The Kin Who Count: Family and Society in Ottoman Aleppo, 1770-1840 (University of Texas Press, 1999) and Mary Ann Fay's Unveiling the Harem: Elite Women and the Paradox of Seclusion in Eighteenth-Century Cairo (Syracuse University Press, 2012) both contribute to this field. In the upcoming analysis, I will compare the arguments, units of analysis, timeline, themes, theories, sources, and writing styles employed in these two works. These books not only offer a gendered perspective on Middle Eastern social history, but they also represent revisionist approaches that highlight the exciting evolution of the field.

Main Arguments, Units of Analysis, and Periodization

Margaret Meriwether’s meticulous study of late eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century Ottoman Aleppine notable families through their household, marriage, inheritance, and endowment patterns brings to life the contours of family relationships and kinship ties. Meriwether deconstructs, in the process, preconceived notions of large, static, and classical patriarchal Middle East families by proving the fluidity of the 104 notable families under examination with a tendency towards smaller nuclear families living under a “modified patriarchy” (Meriwether 1999, 7-8, 34-6, 103).^[1] Similarly, Mary Ann Fay invites readers to rethink the status of Middle East women through her review of eighteenth-century elite women of the Mamluk revival period. Fay convincingly brushes aside the widely-entrenched view of subjugated, docile women by offering a novel understanding of a perennially misunderstood institution, the harem. Fay advances a gendered, revisionist study of elite Mamluk women, ruling Mamluk households, and accompanying institutions. 

Elites are the basic unit of study in both works. Yet the two authors diverge in their understanding of the elite, presenting in the process a different subject matter even when writing within the same genre. Meriwether defends her choice: “choosing…[elites] allows us to identify individuals…[family names] allows us to overcome the problem posed by the general anonymity of sources [for non-elites]” (1999, 14-5). Given that the author’s source identifies elites by family name, they become a logical unit of analysis when building an Ottoman Aleppine family history. Elites are a more natural option for Mary Ann Fay: the harem institution tends to be maintained by rich and powerful families. Women concubines gained elite status through their cooptation into the Mamluk household as wives or mothers. Fay’s textual and material sources led her to identify a few elite Mamluk women who assumed power and held property (2012, 8-10). 

The timelines of Meriwether and Fay slightly overlap between the late eighteenth to early nineteenth centuries. Meriwether provides three reasons for the 1770-1840 periodization. First, it is an era and space that did not undergo a prior in-depth family history study (22). Second, this period witnessed the shift from a traditional to a pre-modern society, allowing Meriwether to detect the influence of economic changes on Aleppo’s notable families (22-7). Third, her innovative use of available court records solidifies the attractiveness of this time period. 

Mary Ann Fay’s interest in the unstudied and often neglected Mamluk revival confines her to the period that witnessed it: the eighteenth century. Even though the book’s title notes the eighteenth century, Fay tracks the rise of Mamluk revival back to 1671: “the last year in which officials from the Porte held effective power in the major administrative positions of the Ottoman hierarchy [in Egypt]” (50). Another layer of periodization is the rise and fall of the last ruling Mamluk Qazdugli household that came to power between 1738 and 1754 (8). Fay does not track the end of the ruling Mamluk household to the oft-used 1798 Napoleonic invasion; instead, she genders her periodization and ends it with the death of the last Mamluk matriarch, Nafisa al-Bayda, in 1816 (8). The two books boast suitable time periods that fulfill the authors’ project goals and thematic interests. 

Themes & Conversations: Reconstructing the Family – Which Kin Counts? 

Studying family history across different time periods reveals varying perceptions of the family, highlighting the diversity and fluidity of family structures throughout Middle Eastern history. Fay's research challenges the traditional boundaries between the private and public spheres by demonstrating that the household, or extended family in the context of the Mamluk era, served as both a political and personal arena (62-3, 185). In the Mamluk political system, blood kinship did not hold the same importance as "fictive kinship" (94-6). The ruling Qazdugli household continued the Mamluk tradition of adopting and incorporating capable slaves into the household, with the most skilled individuals rising to positions of power. This practice established a dynamic and fictive kinship between the ruler and his slaves. The perpetuation of fictive kinship relied heavily on the economics of slavery and the continuous influx of imported slaves.

While some of these fictive kinships evolved into genuine familial relationships through marriage or the birth of biological children, marriage did not constitute the primary foundation of the Mamluk family structure.^[2] Even in cases where marriages took place, such as the union between former slave Khadija and ruler Ahmed Katkhuda, her endowment deed did not prioritize loyalty to the newly established blood ties. Instead, it reinforced the fictive kinship by instructing her endowment administrator to purchase a Georgian slave and assign her the benefits of the waqf (endowment) (Fay 2012, 88).

Meriwether recognizes the importance of marriage; notes the high number (69%) of exogenous marriages among the elites; and marriage’s upward social mobility potential and ideal role in increasing family size (140-151). However, these marriage goals were mostly unmet due to the high mortality rates at the time, suggesting to the elites that “marriage was a temporary state” (Meriwether 1999, 130). That is why Meriwether discusses two other, arguably more important, family circles besides marriage: lineage and household (111). Particularly, ties to the “inner family” and the “elementary [nuclear] household” were more influential with the existence of a “bilateral kinship system” that stressed the closeness of both paternal and maternal relatives (Meriwether 1999, 208-210). Whether it is blood kinship manifest in a nuclear household and marriage or a fictive kinship based on a slave-master ties, the authors succeed in propagating a nuanced family history of the Middle East.

Gendering the Narrative

Gender is an effective lens that decodes the two works. Meriwether and Fay explore the relationship between gender and family history by reassessing the degree of patriarchy and the role of women in the narrative. Meriwether notes the diffusion of authority in households; the importance of age over gender; the diversity of family arrangements; and elite women’s wealth and their personal management of endowments as signs of partial independence and limited agency (1999, 103-108). Fay similarly demonstrates the asymmetries between men and women during the Mamluk revival period. Her project is made the more interesting by juxtaposing both gendered and traditional histories of Mamluk revival side by side to show the powerful effect of gendering history. 

The re-writing of the Mamluk revival through the biographies and waqf deeds of three Mamluk elite women and through a physical inspection of harem space showcases the important role women played during this period along political, social, and economic lines (Fay 2012, 137-149, 240-253). As opposed to viewing the harem as a female prison subject to male control, Fay overturns the concept: the harem is inaccessible to men, whereas women have access to more quarters of the house than men do and are known to leave their homes for various reasons. Fay reconceptualizes the harem as “an inscription on a woman’s body that she created indoors and outdoors by her movement through space” (11). Thus, both authors soften the impact of patriarchy, finding it, in essence, restricted. This does not negate the existence of gender inequality, but it reorients readers towards a more balanced and inclusive understanding of the histories under review.

Other Conversations  

Other noteworthy conversations are Islamic law coupled with comparative and micro histories. Islamic law makes a strong presence in terms of sources and content in the two works. Meriwether and Fay analyze women’s rights in Islamic law, especially highlighting her rights to individual property ownership and inheritance (Meriwether 1999, 52-53; Fay 2012, 18). Both authors use endowment records to prove the existence of female property at a time when European women were devoid of property (Fay 2012, 137-149; Meriwether 1999, 178-191). Islamic law’s flexibility manifests in women’s ability to circumvent inheritance laws by endowing their property and devising their own income plan. 

Meriwether and Fay offer glimpses of micro-histories through their respective depiction of the lives of three Aleppine elite families “occupational categories” and a ruling Mamluk household and three of its prominent female members (Meriwether 1999, 36-42; Fay 2012, 238-253).^[3] Furthermore, Meriwether and Fay engage in a well-informed comparative history to reinforce their points and tie it to the larger picture. Meriwether continuously compares Ottoman Aleppo to other neighboring cities and situates the discussion within a larger Ottoman context.

For instance, she compares her findings on the rarity of elite women’s remarriage to similar results found by Judith Tucker, Alexander Russell, and Cem Behar in other Ottoman localities and time periods (131-32; also see 80-81 and 166-173 for other examples). Fay, on the other hand, is not concerned with proving a trend within the larger Ottoman vicinity, even though she reverts to it in a few instances (9). Instead, Fay focuses on a global comparative history throughout the book to demystify the aura surrounding the supposed uniqueness of the Middle East and its cultural practices. Fay elaborates on other global examples of the harem, slavery, and law’s treatment of women. For instance, she predates the harem to other localities, including classical Athens, Byzantium, and Muscovy (36-39). Fay’s comparative history conversation is very important to her work. It shows that Mamluk women are not unique, their conditions may be better than their counterparts, and similar institutions are found elsewhere (262). In another conversation, Fay engages with architecture: she genders space through her study of space theory and the physical inspection of surviving Mamluk buildings (Chapters Six & Seven). None of these conversations and themes would be grounded without a sound theoretical backdrop.

Theory and Methodology 

Margaret Meriwether does not clearly identify her theoretical framework. However, her recourse to gender theory and family history methodologies is implicit in the analysis. Meriwether references Mervat Hatem and Linda Schilcher who look into gender and the effects of Ottoman (de)centralization patterns on periphery provinces and family structures (6-7). Meriwether utilizes two family history techniques she adopts from European family historiography: family reconstitution, or genealogical reconstruction through available records; and historical ethnography, or the “tracking of individual behaviors over time as recorded by notaries” (15). 

Fay's research encompasses a comprehensive theoretical discussion that delves into the historical development of gender theory and feminism within academic circles. She traces the evolution of these theories and ultimately adopts Joan Scott's definition and methodology (13-16). Additionally, Fay critiques Western Feminist theory for its connection between emancipation and property rights, as well as its division of the private and public spheres—concepts that do not apply to the historical harem of the Mamluk revival period (27-28, 185). To situate the Mamluk historical harem within the family structure, Fay draws upon anthropologist Levi Strauss's kinship theory, as well as its evaluation by Gayle Rubin and Judith Butler (29). 

Moreover, Fay skillfully incorporates theories rarely utilized in historical research, such as semiotic space theory and the reinterpretation of architecture as a symbolic language or system of signs that signifies the connection between space and power. This approach is inspired by the works of Bourdieu, Giddens, and Abu-Lughod (191-93). Fay follows Edward Said's Orientalism by acknowledging the tendencies of Western travel writers to exoticize the East, and she endeavors to correct such misrepresentations (25, 184). Finally, Fay portrays the eighteenth-century Mamluk women as subaltern and takes it upon herself to amplify their voices and undo their historical silencing (74-75, 107).

Sources 

There is a perceived paucity of family history sources in the Middle East (Meriwether 1999, 2). Middle East family historians often share their initial frustration with limited sources in their subject matter before embarking on the exciting prospect of rereading and locating sources that bolster their research projects (Meriwether 1999, 12; Fay 2012, 103). Sources become readily available when historians tweak their research questions or look elsewhere for evidence as Fay and Meriwether have done. On the same token, writing gendered histories often requires the need to engage in a similar rereading and a textual excavation exercise that led in our case to utilizing Islamic court records. Because of these challenges and the delicacy of sources, the books under review dedicate a section to sources in their introductions (Meriwether 1999, 12-18; Fay 2012, 5-8). 

Meriwether’s project would have been difficult to pursue without Islamic court records. With the absence of census data, Meriwether creatively traces back and approximates family size through inheritance deeds and detects family residency patterns through family endowment records (12-14, 70-71, 79-80, 85, 118, 179). Meriwether even created genealogy diagrams and a family table out of the sources (213-19). Meriwether uses her sources assiduously: she is not taking all information at face value. Rather, she questions to what degree the elites used these courts and how accurately court records represented reality (13-14). Meriwether complements her detailed use of the religious court records with Arabic genealogy books and some Western travel literature. She also consciously and continuously compares her results to research done on other Ottoman provinces to validate her conclusions. Along with her use of Arabic primary sources and the British Public Records Office, Meriwether also utilizes Arabic, English, and French secondary sources (30, 257-268).      

Fay utilizes Islamic court records to reconstruct harem space and Mamluk elite women’s genealogy, wealth, and endowment patterns (192). Fay extensively utilizes various sources, such as the chronicle of al-Jabarti, European travel accounts, letters, memoirs, architectural studies, and secondary literature on Mamluk history. Her impressive source list does not end here. Fay engages in material sources as well, such as Bayt al-Razzaz and its harem quarters (155, 171-73). Fay relies on seven archives, including four in Egypt and three in the United States (6-7, 311). She widely uses Arabic primary sources as well as Arabic, English, and French secondary sources.

Organization and Style

Meriwether’s The Kin Who Counts is an easy read. The author first situates the book in its historical context in the Introduction, and later unfolds a more thematic approach throughout the book by organizing it into five chapters, each covering an aspect of the family: lineage, household, marriage, inheritance, and endowments. The author’s register is proper to the scope of the book: it is only active when she introduces the subject and proves a point by arguing similar family trends in other Ottoman provinces and eras (80, 121, 132-140). Meriwether’s constant and conscious engagement with the ideas and conclusions of other Ottoman social historians provides a useful reference to other works all in one book. However, Meriwether’s arguments would be better served if she stood firm by her conclusions without repeating the general proposition that everything is complex and varied (91, 96). 

Fay writes very clearly. The work, however, suffers from some repetition of ideas, phrases, and even full paragraphs at times (64, 75, 258, 265). Furthermore, Fay indulges in an ambitious project that not only covers the historical harem, but delves into Mamluk life, slavery, Islamic law, women's property rights, and Cairo’s spatial and architectural arrangements. Except for two themes, Fay was able to manage all topics. The two less successful exceptions are her treatment and comparison to the twentieth-century harem in the Epilogue, which is clearly a later add-on, and the description of Cairo’s evolution as a city in Chapter Six. While a great chapter in itself, it is superfluous information, especially when compared to the more appropriate chapter on architecture and spatial arrangements (Chapter Seven).

Fay’s recourse to anthropology, literary studies, linguistics, geography, and architecture alongside history and Islamic law is a testimony to the multidisciplinary character of the book, but it packs it in the process. Fay maintains an active voice throughout, which could be defended in the site visits but is unnecessary in the portrayal of slavery and Islamic law, for instance. Finally, Fay presents a well-balanced chronological and thematic approach to the topic by maintaining the rise and fall of the last Mamluk household as her baseline against the other themes that she explores.  

Margaret Meriwether and Mary Ann Fay enrich the family and gender histories of the Middle East with these two notable additions to the field. Their works have paved the way for Middle East historians to develop the field in creative ways.