#Egypt’s flag rises 20 meters high in #Tahrir Square

Egypt’s flag rises 20 meters high in Tahrir Square!!!

Minha Husaini Girl form #Egypt work as tea boy! #women

Minha Husaini she girl 22 old i think,she finish her study in Tourism and because no security now work for must of egyptian people .

she  shift her hair to can deal with guys in st, and Most of the time, sexual harassment, and she go to work in tahrir Sq !!! in down town  ,,,, its dangers place , but she go bur the police come after her
and they asked her to give then money to let her work ;)

'The Square' Film On Egypt's Revolution Will Not Be Shown In #Egypt #Tahrir #25jan

There’s a lot anyone can learn from Jehane Noujaim’s Oscar-nominated documentary “The Square,” an examination of the 18-day uprising that toppled President Hosni Mubarak.

But Egyptians may be least able to benefit from its lessons. So far, the film has not been approved for screening here.

On the third anniversary of Mubarak’s ouster, which falls on Tuesday (Feb. 11), Egypt is more polarized than ever, largely between those who are sympathetic to the Muslim Brotherhood and those who support the military. The film is a reminder of what Egyptians share, regardless of religious or political beliefs.

“The Square” depicts the uprising through the eyes of six revolutionaries who lived in Tahrir Square during those historic weeks and follows them as Egyptians struggled to redefine themselves. Mubarak’s ouster ushered in a tumultuous period that saw clashes with the military, the rise of the Muslim Brotherhood, the return to the streets to demand the deposal of the Muslim Brotherhood’s President Mohammed Morsi, and the sit-ins that followed Morsi’s overthrow by the army.

The film, available to American audiences on Netflix and in theaters, ends with the clearing of the Morsi supporters’ encampment, which resulted in nearly 1,000 deaths. Since then, the Brotherhood has been outlawed and people have been arrested for simply possessing Brotherhood materials, now a crime.

Noujaim, 39, is an accomplished documentarian and TED Prize winner whose credits include “Startup.com” and “Control Room,” a film about the Al-Jazeera network. “The Square,” though, is not a film that intends to accurately and journalistically represent all factions. Noujaim, an Egyptian-American who spent much of her childhood in Egypt, lived on Tahrir Square with her characters during the revolution. In many ways, she is one of them, and “The Square” is her contribution to the revolution.

The film depicts those historic events from the revolutionary’s point of view. There were hundreds of thousands of people in the square; Noujaim chose to follow the ones she was intrigued by, trusting that viewers would do the same.

Two of the most captivating characters are Ahmed Hassan, a young street revolutionary, and Magdy Ashour, a member of the Muslim Brotherhood and a father of four who, under Mubarak, was imprisoned and tortured. Despite their differing backgrounds and perspectives, the two become fast friends, and the exchanges between them provide some of the film’s most compelling moments.

Through Ashour viewers get a nuanced view of the Brotherhood and its army of foot soldiers, a stark contrast to the heavy-handed, black-and-white demonization of them in Egyptian media of late. Ashour had been a loyal member of the Brotherhood for decades, attracted to its religiosity and benefiting from its financial support. After it seized power, he began to question some of its decisions, which left him conflicted.

When Morsi was first elected, many Egyptians opted for Muslim rule. But that feeling didn’t last long. Only 150 days into his presidency, Morsi made a power grab that gave him even more authority than Mubarak.

The revolutionaries were upset with his autocratic maneuvers and with the new constitution that the Islamist-dominated parliament drafted, which they considered a betrayal of the ideals they had fought for. Noujaim said she spoke to many ordinary Egyptians during that time — many of them practicing Muslims — who were “deeply disturbed” that the ruling party was now determining who constituted a good Muslim.

Ashour is visibly torn in the film between the revolutionaries, whose principles he, too, had stood for, and the Brotherhood. He found himself increasingly at odds with Hassan and his other friends from the square.

“If there were an alternative, I wouldn’t want Morsi,” he says at one point in the film. “We’re afraid that if Morsi falls we’ll be taken back to prisons,” Ashour said.

One of the film’s most poignant moments comes a short time later when British-Egyptian actor Khalid Abdalla sits with Ashour and his son and shows them video of Muslim Brotherhood members attacking protesters outside the presidential palace, some of the very same people who had been in Tahrir with Ashour.

Ashour’s son had gone to the presidential palace that day, and was on the side of the Brotherhood throwing rocks at their opponents. Ashour looks mournful, and chastises his son for his actions: “You have to stand as an individual,” Ashour tells the boy. “You have to think for yourself.”

It is Ashour and his conflict that resonated most strongly with some of the film’s most conservative and religious audiences in the United States.

When Noujaim took the film to Sundance, some of the screenings were in downtown Salt Lake City and attended by Mormons and ex-Mormons. They, as well as evangelicals, came up to the filmmakers after showings and said that, despite initially thinking they had the least in common with Ashour, it was he whom they related to the most. They identified with his deep faith, his trust in the fledgling government, and his ultimate disillusionment. Those feelings transcended culture and creed.

“We are all confused sometimes, and we question our beliefs,” Noujaim said.

Once Morsi was overthrown and the Brotherhood was again the victim of state oppression, that changed.

“Once they were persecuted, Ashour was immediately back on their side,” she said.

His rueful words all those months ago now seem prescient. Authorities recently raided his house, and he is reportedly in hiding.

Noujaim said she is not one of those filmmakers who believes her work can change the world. Perhaps, though, it can make a difference in what’s happening in Egypt today. Noujaim, who is currently in the U.S., hopes to be able to bring the movie to Egypt.

But “The Square” has already thawed some icy relations in the places it’s been shown. Noujaim said she spoke to an Egyptian woman in the United States who had seen “The Square” on Netflix, and decided to bring her family to a screening.

Like many other Egyptian families, they were so divided over events that relatives weren’t talking to one another. Seeing the film together enabled them to find enough understanding for one another’s viewpoints to enable them to begin to communicate once again, the woman told Noujaim.

And therein lies perhaps the most salient lesson of the film, particularly for Egyptians.

“We are all human beings,” Noujaim said. “Reminding ourselves of our humanity is a very simple idea, but I think it couldn’t be more important right now.”

Carnage in Cairo #Egypt graphic

Photos of the most recent -- and the most violent -- clashes yet between Egyptian security forces and supporters of ousted President Mohamed Morsy. Warning: some images are graphic.

 

Egyptian opponents of ousted president Mohamed Morsy gather in Tahrir Square in Cairo, on July 26. 

Supporters of deposed Egyptian President Mohammed Morsy protest outside a field hospital where the bodies of protesters -- who were alledgedly killing in fighting between pro-Morsy demonstrators and Egyptian security forces overnight -- were being brought in the district of Nasr on July 27, in Cairo. 

 

Supporters of ousted President Mohamed Morsy walk past a trail of blood near the tomb of former President Anwar al-Sadat in Cairo on July 27. 

The body of a Morsy supporter is carried on a stretcher at a field hospital, after reportedly being killed in fighting between pro-Morsy demonstrators and Egyptian security forces overnight, near the Rabaa al Adweya Mosque in the district of Nasr on July 27, in Cairo. 

A group of Egyptian Army soldiers cross the road during clashes between police forces and Morsy supporters in Cairo on Saturday. 

Bodies of Muslim Brotherhood supporters, shot dead in the Egyptian capital after violence erupted the night before, lay inside a field hospital in Cairo on July 27. 

Egyptian supporters of the deposed Egyptian president Mohamed Morsy (back) clash with riot police in Cairo early on July 27. 

On July 26, Islamist protesters gathered in the hundreds of thousands to demand, once again, the reinstatement of ousted Egyptian President Mohamed Morsy. Early Saturday morning, security forces and Morsy supporters clashed in what's being called Egypt's most violent episode of bloodshed since Morsy was ousted from office on July 3. Egyptian authorities fired on crowds gathered in Cairo and the counts of those killed in the attack are as high as 65, according to Egypt's Health Ministry.

قصيدة دولة الأخوانجية للعظيم (( بيرم التونسي )) #مصر

قصيدة دولة الأخوانجية للعظيم (( بيرم التونسي )) - يتخيل فيها مصر تحت حكم الاخوان سنه 1954 .. اقراها واستمتع
كتبها من 60 سنه لما هتقرأها هتلاقى ان جماعه الاخوان مختلفوش خالص من 60 سنه
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كفاية يا مصر لو يبقى الهضيبي
وأعوانه على عرش الامارة
وسيد قطب يعطوه المعارف
وسيد فرغلي ياخد التجارة
وعودة يعودوه ضرب المدافع
وسي عبد الحكيم عابدين سفارة
وسي عبد العزيز أحمد يسوقها
ويتولى المواصلات بالاشارة
وكل جهاز تتعين عيله
عمد في كل قريه وحارة
محافظ مصر خريج الدباغة
وتحته وكيل خريج النجارة
ويقني الكمساري أكبرها عزبة
ويقني السمكري أضخم عمارة
وتخلص مصر من عيلة الدخاخني
الى عيلة الخواتكي أو شرارة
ويومها تحلق الاخوان دقونها
ويترص الحشيش ملو السيجارة
ووحياتك لا أيد اللص تقطع
ولا تبطل مواخير الدعارة
ويبقى الشعب هواه في الفلافل
وطرشي الحاج سيد والبصارة

#Egypt needs a revolution against #sexual_violence

In November 2011, after I joined a protest on Mohamed Mahmoud Street in Cairo with a friend, Egyptian riot police beat me – breaking my left arm and right hand – and sexually assaulted me. I was also detained by the interior minister and military intelligence for 12 hours.
After I was released, it took all I had not to cry when I saw the look on the face of a very kind woman I'd never met before, except on Twitter, who came to pick me up and take me to the emergency room for medical attention. (She is now a cherished friend.)
As I described to the female triage nurse what had had happened to me, she stopped at "and they sexually assaulted me" to ask:

how could you let them do that to you? Why didn't you resist?

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It had been about 14 or 15 hours since riot police had attacked me; I just wanted to be X-rayed to see if they had broken anything. Both arms looked like the Elephant Man's limbs. I explained to the nurse that when you're surrounded by four or five riot police, whacking at you with their night sticks, there isn't much "resisting" one can do.
I've been thinking a lot about that exchange with the nurse. Whenever I read the ghastly toll of how many women were sexually assaulted during last week's protests against Mohamed Morsi in Tahrir Square, I have to wonder about such harshness after brutality.

Activists with grassroots groups on the ground who intervene to extricate women from sexual violence in Tahrir said they documented more than 100 cases; several were mob assaults, several requiring medical attention. One woman was raped with a sharp object. I hope none was asked "why didn't you resist?"

This isn't an essay on how Egyptian regimes like Mubarak's targeted female activists and journalists as a political ploy. Nor is it about how regimes like Morsi's largely ignored sexual violence, and even when it did acknowledge it, blamed women for bringing assaults upon themselves. Nor is it an article about how such assaults and such refusal to hold anyone accountable have given a green light to our abusers that women's bodies are fair game. Nor will I tell you that – were it not for the silence and denial surrounding sexual assault in Egypt – such assaults would not be enacted so frequently on women's bodies on the Egyptian streets.
I don't know who is behind those mob assaults in Tahrir, but I do know that they would not attack women if they didn't know they would get away with it and that the women would always be asked "why didn't you resist?"

From the ground up, we need a national campaign against sexual violence in Egypt. It must push whoever we elect to govern Egypt next, as well as our legislators, to take sexual assaults more seriously.
If our next president chooses – as Morsi did – to address the nation from a stage in Tahrir Square for the inauguration, let him (or her) salute the women who turned out in their thousands upon thousands in that same square, knowing they risked assaults and yet refusing to be pushed out of public space. The square's name literally means "liberation", and it will be those women who, in spite of the risk of sexual violence, will have helped to enable his (or her) presence there as the new president of Egypt.
Undoubtedly, the Egyptian interior ministry needs reform, especially when it comes to how it deals with sexual assault. The police rarely, if ever, intervene, or make arrests, or press charges. It was, after all, the riot police themselves who assaulted me. Their supervising officer even threatened me with gang rape as his conscripts continued their assault of me in front of him.

--> Any woman who ends up in the ER room deserves much better than "why didn't you resist?" Nurses and doctors need training in how best to care for survivors of sexual assault and how to gather evidence.Female police units are said to have been introduced at various precincts, but they need training. They also need rape kits – in the unlikely event any woman actually gathers herself enough to report rape in Egypt. When I was reporting on sexual violence in Cairo in the 1990s, several psychiatrists told me their offices were the preferred destination for women who had survived sexual violence, be it at home or on the streets, because they feared being violated again in police stations.
While that fear is still justifiable today, something has begun to change: more and more women are willing to go public to recount their assaults. I salute those women's courage, but I wonder where they find comfort and support after their retelling is over. PTSD therapy is not readily available in Egypt. We need to train more of our counsellors to offer it to those who want it.
We need to recruit popular football and music stars in advertising campaigns: huge, presidential election campaign style billboards across bridges and buildings – addressing men with clear anti-sexual violence messages, for example – as well as television and radio spots. Culture itself has a role to play in changing this culture: puppet theatre and other arts indigenous to Egypt can help break the taboo of speaking out; and we need more TV shows and films that tackle sexual assaults in their storylines.
There is an innate and burning desire for justice in Egypt. Revolutions will do that. We need to coordinate efforts and aim high to ensure such a campaign meets the needs of girls and women across the country, not just Cairo and the big cities.
In January 2012, I spent a few days with a fierce 13-year-old girl we'll call Yasmine, for a documentary film, on which I was a writer, called Girl Rising. The film paired nine female writers with girls each from their country of birth whose stories they recounted to illustrate the importance of girls' education.
Five months before we met, Yasmine had survived a rape. My arms were still broken and in casts when we met and I naively considered removing the casts and pretending I was OK in order to "protect her". I did not want her to think that 30 years down the line, at my age, she could still be subject to such violation.
She certainly did not need my protection and I'm glad I kept my casts on, because as soon as we met, she simply and forthrightly told me:

I'm going to open my heart to you and you're going to open your heart to me, OK?
She then went on to recount what happened to her. I admired her courage and her insistence on going to the police with her mother to report the rape. She was lucky she found an understanding police officer who took her complaint seriously.
When I told her what had happened to me, she was shocked that it was police who'd attacked me. "Have you reported what happened to you? Have you taken them to court?" she asked me.
Yasmine has not had a single day of formal education. She believed she deserved justice. We all do.

New Revolution in #Egypt #Cartoon

: 'The Egyptian people speak out and protest for their rights in an amazing way.'

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