I do not recognise Wajeha al-Huwaider when I first catch sight of her walking through a smart American suburb wearing a tracksuit, her nails painted bubble-gum pink. She is from Saudi Arabia, where women are so oppressed they are not even allowed to drive, and I had expected her to be dressed from head to toe in black, maybe even wearing a veil.Bare-headed and pretty, she power-walks past the perfectly trimmed lawns in this peaceful Virginian town near Washington, looking for all the world as if she has just stepped off the set of Desperate Housewives. Huwaider, 47, a human rights activist and writer who has made herself a thorn in the side of the Saudi Government, is in America visiting her two teenage sons, who live with their aunt and uncle and attend school there. We have arranged to meet at 11am at her sister-in-law's house.
In a few days she is due to return to Saudi Arabia, the only country where women legally belong to men, a status that Huwaider is battling to change. In March last year, on International Women's Day, she filmed herself driving in a remote area of Saudi Arabia (where women are allowed to drive). She was appealing to the authorities to lift the ban on female drivers in the rest of the kingdom, which follows one of the strictest interpretations of Islam.
Dressed in black, her head covered but her face visible, she is seen steering her car along country roads and past a few surprised locals. The video caused a sensation. It was picked up by YouTube and has so far received more than 130,000 hits, provoking comments on the site ranging from "You go, girl, I'm proud of you!!!" to "Behead those law-breaking women."
Many Saudis fear that giving women the right to drive would signify an erosion of traditional values. "Women drivers are called whores," says Huwaider. "If a woman is caught driving, she gets taken to the police station and her husband or father is made to sign a document saying that she will not do it again, otherwise she will be put in jail. I thought they would ban me from travelling after I made the video but they didn't. They never even responded. I think they are smarter now — they don't want to make me a hero."
In the past, Huwaider has been detained, interrogated for hours and forced to sign a statement agreeing to desist from all human rights activities. In 2003, she was banned from writing, after saying in an article that young Saudis were increasingly attracted to a Western way of life and would welcome an American invasion. But she continues to write online. And in 2006 she was banned from leaving the country after she stood on a bridge between Bahrain and Saudi Arabia holding a placard addressed to King Abdullah: "Give Saudi women their rights."
At the time she lived with her 14-year-old son in Bahrain and commuted each day into Saudi Arabia to work. A few days later the ban was mysteriously lifted, but Huwaider is still closely monitored. "I know I'm being watched. I can feel it. They listen to my calls. When they arrested me, they kept saying: 'Tell us who is behind you, who is giving you all this power.' I tell them: 'Nobody. I got it from myself."' She is not interested in leaving Saudi Arabia. "Even if I get political asylum today, I'm not going to go for it. I want to do things inside the country."
Huwaider says the ban on women drivers is just the tip of the iceberg. "My dream is to get rid of the system called guardianship," she says, talking rapidly, her eyes bright and impassioned. In Saudi Arabia, women cannot make even the most trivial decisions for themselves. She points at the white shirt I am wearing. "This morning you decided to wear that shirt, it's up to you," she says. "But in Saudi Arabia, it would be up to your male guardian." Women can scarcely leave the house without written permission from a male relative, often a younger brother or even a son. They need permission to travel, work, see a doctor, even to own an identity card.
What frustrates Huwaider most is that she feels society has taken a step backwards in her generation. "I look at my mom's generation and they had more freedom than we did. There were no religious police following women and telling them what to wear. They didn't have to cover up and wear black. They used to travel without permission. They used to run businesses or work on farms. These days, women cannot make any kind of decision. And they have no security. When a woman gets divorced, she loses everything."
It is hard to tell how much of an impact Huwaider has had on Saudi society. Certainly, she has done more than anyone to bring the plight of Saudi women to international attention. She is optimistic that change will happen. "If I didn't have that hope, I would stop my work." Recently there have been a couple of positive signs. A royal decree declared last year allows women to stay in hotels without a male guardian. Previously they were barred from even checking in alone. And King Abdullah, who came to the throne three years ago, is seen as more moderate than previous rulers. He recently took a women's delegation to China and is behind an effort to recruit more female diplomats.
Huwaider says a downturn in the economy might help women regain some freedom. "If we go through an economic crisis, we will gain more rights, because we cannot afford to have women living like princesses and queens with drivers to take them everywhere."
Not all Saudi women welcome her attempts to change their society. "The women can be worse than men (towards me), very aggressive. They are insecure and afraid of losing their husbands. When women are all covered, no one can tell who has a better face. And some women don't want women to drive, because then men will be mixing with women." But she is undeterred. "A lot of people wish I would just disappear. The religious people hate my guts. But I will never stop writing and campaigning, because that is my life. I cannot just keep quiet."