Appearing as a Crime, Anyway
Appearing as a Crime Anyway: Suzie, the TikTokers, and Us
Appearance… to show up on screens, in bars, cafés, streets, and homes, in an endless range of movements.
If we were to paint an imaginary picture of it, it would look spontaneous and personal, different from one person to another—a part of our differences!
But societies and systems prefer caution. They constantly call for the policing of spontaneity in appearance… or else, we face punishment.
After apologizing dozens of times “to anyone who might be offended” by past behaviors said to “offend society,” and after submitting to many social codes and refining her language, 19-year-old Jordanian high school student Suzie still stands accused of “undermining Egyptian family values” — and of laundering 15 million Egyptian pounds.
Egyptian society does not object to her evolution per se; it resents her progress and her ability to make money. Like many women in Egypt and across the Arab world, Suzie lives under a political and social patriarchal order that sets strict limits on their ability to accumulate wealth, to appear, and to express themselves.
Amid the current security crackdown on TikTok content creators, and the wave of hatred and celebration over the imprisonment of “anyone who bothers society,” let’s go back to 2020—the first wave of what became known as the TikTok Girls case: Haneen Hossam, Mawada ElAdham, and other unknown women languishing in prison simply because they crossed the line.
In July 2020, the Economic Court sentenced Haneen and Mawada to two years in prison on charges of “violating Egyptian family values and principles.” In January 2021, the Court of Appeals acquitted them—without any compensation for the harm they had suffered—amid widespread public rejection of the acquittal.
In June 2021, led by lawyer Ashraf Farahat, founder of the “Let’s Keep It Clean” campaign, 18 complaints were filed with the security authorities against Mawada, Haneen, and other women. In just six weeks, they were sentenced to between three and ten years in prison, with fines of 200,000 pounds. The charges escalated from vague moral accusations to criminal ones: “human trafficking” and “exploiting underage girls for dubious purposes,” in what became a final act of deterrence.
Today, Mawada and Haneen are in prison on human trafficking charges, and Suzie faces money laundering accusations.
Because morality charges are too vague to guarantee maximum deterrence, criminal charges are fabricated—without evidence.
Are young women’s invitations to download a licensed app in Egypt a crime in themselves? Or was the “human trafficking” charge simply an act of revenge?
And is Suzie’s earning of millions of pounds in TikTok profits really money laundering? The app remains available and continues to generate income for its users. Where, then, is the crime? In women accumulating wealth?
The availability and non-blocking of apps should make their use legal—but legality ends here when society decides to target a specific group.
I see Suzie’s reflection in what we, as members of the LGBTQ+ community in Egypt, experience. We walk on thorns because society does not want genuine, free, and truthful self-expression. It reacts with hostility to the free appearance of women and people with diverse identities, forcing us to remain within hidden boundaries—in the shadows—like everyone else.
Welcome to the sprawling world of hatred that swallows us all from one moment to the next. And congratulations to those celebrating today; as for who is immune to society’s punishment, I truly don’t know.
Will we ever live in a world that accommodates all our expressions, where loving or not loving someone does not mean that those we do not love automatically deserve prison?