NS Christmas campaign: Show your solidarity for Azza Hilal Ahmad Suleiman

The Egyptian activist was beaten by soldiers as she tried to come to a woman's aid during last year's protests in Tahrir Square.

It was the quest for freedom, justice and democracy which spurred thousands, like Azza Hilal Ahmad Suleiman to protest in the streets of Cairo and elsewhere across Egypt last year.

Determined to dwell in a country based on human rights and democracy, ordinary men and women gathered in Tahrir Square to call for the overthrow of President Mubarak and for a new regime across Egypt. 

For many Egyptians, including Azza, the demise of President Mubarak provided a sense of relief and the promise of the beginning of a more just and fair society.

It is tragic then to see how the recent actions of current ruler, President Morsi have compelled thousands of Egyptians to return to Tahrir Square once again to reiterate demands for the freedoms for which they so bitterly fought last year.

Azza is one of the thousands who suffered at the hands of the security forces in Egypt last year. In spite of her own physical and emotional trauma she has returned to Cairo’s Tahrir Square to fight again.

On 17 December 2011 – exactly one year ago - Azza was brutally attacked by soldiers in Egypt. She was in Tahrir Square when she saw soldiers attacking another woman – stripping her of her clothes and beating her.

Immediately, Azza and a few other demonstrators rushed to the woman and tried to carry her away from the attacking soldiers.

Enraged, the soldiers turned their fury towards Azza. They beat her so viciously that she fell to the ground unconscious. Azza ended up with her skull fractured in two places, and she now suffers from severe memory loss as a result.  

She is still waiting for justice from the authorities for this violent attack.

Today Azza fights two battles. On one hand, Azza still demands justice and democracy for Egypt. On the other she is also fighting for justice in her own case.

As one of the cases featured in Amnesty’s Write for Rights Campaign, Azza’s case has already received attention from several quarters including Dame Vivienne Westwood. 

“Empathy is what makes us human,” Vivienne Westwood tell us in a new Amnesty film (see below).

She later told us, “The bravery shown by Azza Suleiman who dared to stand up for another woman who was being beaten, and paid a heavy price in doing so, is both awe-inspiring and humbling.”

Show your empathy by taking action for Azza at www.amnesty.org.uk/azza

Azza Hilal Ahmad Suleiman is still fighting for democracy in Egypt and also justice in her own case.

Eulette Ewart is a press officer for Amnesty International UK.  Follow Amnesty's media team on Twitter @newsfromamnesty.

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Must I unremember the day I wept over the long, slow suicide of a 27-year-old man?

At that time we did talk about the occupation of Ireland. Now we have to pretend we didn’t and it’s all the jolly UK and thank you, England for the peace process.

The misremembering of history interrupts these tales of my own squalid past. Very often I find myself wishing my memories were wrong, or that I’d forgotten more than I have. This would certainly be the case were I to be a politician, albeit a small-time one in big-time government. In the era of renunciations and sincere apologies, I would have to say sorry most of the time.

But I can’t. I can’t get past that clear day in May 1981, when the tangy cold spring air of a New York day got right inside me. Ambling home from another long, messy night in the Village, I was near 52nd when I saw people carrying a coffin.

“It’s not him, of course. It’s a fake coffin,” said a woman who saw the shock on my face. Maybe I was already crying. I knew and didn’t know but asked anyway.

“Yes. Bobby.”

Bobby Sands had died. Crowds were gathering with banners about Smashing Long Kesh and Smashing Thatcher.

The shock of it has never left me and God knows “martyrs” come two a penny now. Yet the idea that someone can starve themselves slowly to death for an idea is shocking. The idea that someone can let them do it, either “for” a United Ireland or “for” a United Kingdom, remains profoundly disturbing to me.

I need no lectures about what vile and murderous bastards the IRA were, or the numbers of innocents they killed. Nor about the smeary sentimentality of martyrdom itself. All I can say is that I had little idea of what “we” did in Ireland as long as I lived in England. A boy at school had run off to join the IRA. My mum said, “Well, he’s always been tapped, that one.”

We were kept ignorant. For some stupid reason, I did not think that Thatcher would let the hunger strikers die.

Their demands, remember, were the right not to wear prison uniform or to do prison work, rights to free association and education within the prison, one visit, one parcel, one letter a week. They wanted to be treated as political prisoners. Thatcher said Sands had no mandate. He was actually an MP, with more votes than she ever won in Finchley.

In New York that day, when we got to Third Avenue, there was anger and then solemnity. There were mumblings about what a death like that entailed . . . Mandela then instigated a hunger strike on Robben Island. There were protests in Milan and Ghent. French towns would name streets after Sands.

At that time, though, yes, we did talk about the occupation of Ireland. Now we have to pretend we didn’t and it’s all the jolly UK and thank you, England for the peace process.

So, must I unremember that day when I sat down on the pavement and wept over the long, slow suicide of a 27-year-old man? Let me know how to uncry all those tears shed for that terrible, terrible waste.

Suzanne Moore is a writer for the Guardian and the New Statesman. She writes the weekly “Telling Tales” column in the NS.

This article first appeared in the 01 October 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The Tory tide