Rafaat einy Il sama is a documentary that covers the lives of a group of bright adolescent Egyptian women who all participate in the same theater troupe, doing live performances on the street with strong feminist messaging. Critical of the intensely misogynistic society they are subject to, they call to attention the injustices, insults, and violence they are faced with solely for existing, which is multi-layered, seeing as they are already harassed, disrespected, and verbally abused just for even being involved in the theater troupe in the first place.
Rafaat einy Il sama is the only Egyptian film showing this year, and is the first Egyptian documentary to be shown at Cannes. I watched the entire film without realizing it was a documentary. I thought it was a work of narrative fiction. It flowed seamlessly, it followed its main characters (although now I know they are subjects rather than characters) through storylines and arcs that felt natural, poignant, and it’s all the more impressive that I was blind to its true medium. I have grown tired of cliched Ken Burns style talking heads documentaries that I have seen countless examples, which can come across as didactic, pedantic, or just plain boring. Rafaat einy Il sama certainly had many slow moments, and those without a strong interest in world cinema or feminist issues may find it to be dull, boring, or just too slow. But I felt connected and compelled to the women on screen, invested in their lives and futures.
Oftentimes, as a woman, I feel bogged down by the constraints and limitations of existing in a misogynistic society — I often feel overlooked, disrespected, belittled, and disempowered. But watching Rafaar einy Il sama made me feel lucky for my privileges — the privilege of education, of liberty and freedom, of having a family that supports my dreams rather than dismisses them. The privilege of having more options than just a domestic future, not that there’s anything wrong with choosing one. A domestic future is something the young women at first struggle with, but later some choose to embrace. In Egypt, the women are expected to be homemakers and child rearers once they get married, nothing more, nothing less. But they still have dreams, desires, personalities, individuality. As they make different decisions that pull them in different directions as they age, the filmmakers remain devoted and sympathetic to their autonomy. The films ends with the women having chosen different paths in life, but ends with a scene of hope for the next generation of young Egyptian girls — an inspiring, heartfelt, and devoted encapsulation. Your dreams can be big, your dreams are allowed to be big, your dreams can be anything, because your dreams are your own. In your dreams you can always taste freedom and happiness, and nobody can take that away from you.