is a gender-specific concept, men, however, do not have to prove their purity to protect their reputation, as Awwad underlines by quoting Pitt-Rivers: “honor and shame, when they are not equivalent, are linked exclusively to one sex or the other and are opposed to one another” (Pitt-Rivers 43). As briefly mentioned in ←53 | 54→the general Introduction above, this notion of female chastity is also reflected in different languages, for instance in the Arabic expression “ ‘ird” that describes female chastity of unmarried women, or in the Turkish and Persian “namus” as well as the Afghan equivalent “namoos” which all refer to a woman’s sexual purity and corresponding honor, on which the reputation of the male family members strongly depends. It is therefore expected of women to protect their virginity by all means until they are married off safely.
Already in 1982, Fatima Mernissi bluntly claimed that “[t];he concepts of honor and virginity locate the prestige of a man between the legs of a woman” (183). The patriarchal structure of honor cultures facilitates setting up double standards with regard to different social roles of men and women, as asymmetrical positional dyads. Since the honor-based codes established by men include strict punishment in cases of inappropriate behavior, “women take extreme measures to prove their virginity or conceal their false virginity in the face of mounting pressure by society. To these women, the wedding night could be their worst nightmare, especially if they fail the virginity test and no visible blood stains the sheets to display to the public as a proof of virginity” (Awwad, “Virginity” 107). Awwad furthermore points out that “ ‘[v]irginity control’ includes forced virginity exams and false virginity, which entails a medical procedure to restore the hymen” (107). Social pressure in the form of repeated threats or hints at the death of other women who had premarital intercourse serves to control the actions of female relatives, starting from a very young age. Glick et al., who analyze sex roles in Turkey for instance, summarize the situation of women who are thought to have lost their honor as follows: “they may be warned verbally, forced to take virginity examinations, punished physically or even killed” (545).72
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Jacobson explains that “[i];n an honor society, patriarchal and tribal traditions dictate that a woman’s body belongs to and serves the community” (4). For this purpose, its purity needs to be guaranteed. Among others, Pitt-Rivers as well as Sev’er and Yurdakul highlight the ideologically marked use of honor-related “female purity,” which is linked to a strict “control of women’s sexuality and cultural obsession with virginity” (Sev’er and Yurdakul 994). Particularly in economically poorer regions, “the only property that men seem to have is the lives and bodies of their women” (Sev’er and Yurdakul 986, similarly Tahira Khan 67). As a female body is regarded as a sort of commodity which needs to be married off as quickly as possible, it loses its entire exchange value if it turns out to be “impure.” The results described in a number of studies about virginity testing correspond to fictional depictions insofar as they all show how the fixation on female chastity from a very early age creates an enormous pressure on girls. Different methods of virginity testing73 (and proving), though supposed to protect the honor of their families, at the same time do psychological harm to them.
In a review on this highly controversial issue, Rose McKeon Olson and Claudia García-Moreno state that “[f];rom a human rights perspective, virginity testing is a form of gender discrimination, as well as a violation of fundamental rights,74 and when carried out without consent, a form of sexual assault.” ←55 | 56→They furthermore draw attention to the fact that there are communities where “only the ‘pure’ females are to be married, have certain jobs, or be respected,” and describe the whole procedure as “physically, psychologically, and socially devastating to the examinee.” Quoting Zeyneloğlu, Kısa, and Yılmaz as well as Christianson & Eriksson, Juth, and Lynöe and Awwad et al., Robatjazi et al. underline a similar aspect in their article “Virginity Testing Beyond a Medical Examination,” highlighting that “[v]irginity testing for cultural reasons has been declared as sexual violence against women by the World Health Organization” and that it “has been criticized as a patriarchal belief, gender inequality, and violent behavior against women” (152–53).75 It is not surprising that in social studies details of virginity examinations can rarely be found since women would often not be able to speak about such a traumatic experience, also because they are in danger of being killed. Literature in this case can provide us with realistic scenarios, as the following examples will show.
Kader Abdolah briefly describes the tradition of virginity76 testing in his novel My Father’s Notebook by providing us with information on a striking feature. In order to find out whether the first wife of protagonist Aga Akbar is “pure,” a female relative hides behind the curtains of the bridal chamber to keep an eye on the situation during the wedding night: “It was the custom back then. I was supposed to watch in secret and see if everything went all right. To see if the woman …” (52–53). When “the marriage had been consummated” (53) according to ←56 | 57→the rules, this aunt needs to testify the woman’s virginity so that the celebrations can begin. It is thanks to the omniscient narrator who introduces himself in the first chapter that we learn something about this practice, which would otherwise have remained a family secret. Another aspect of virginity testing is depicted in the novel The Night of the Green Fairy by Turkish writer Ayfer Tunç, who appears to be one of the rare outspoken authors with regard to this topic. We follow the nameless female protagonist from her early childhood through her adolescence to her mid-forties, getting to know bits and pieces of her difficult life through regular flashbacks and flashforwards. Among the traumatizing experiences of her teenage years is a violent scene taking place in the house of her mother’s new husband Ekrem who is a doctor at a maternity clinic. Because his son has seen her walking on the street with a boy, he and Ekrem beat her up together. The statement of Ekrem’s son “I can’t go to school because of her! They call me the slut’s stepbrother!”77 shows that the stage of gossip is already reached, which obviously makes Ekrem doubt the purity of his step-daughter’s body even more:
Ekrem grabs my arm. As he pulls me away, he says, “You know what’ll happen if we find out she’s not a virgin!” My mother begs him, “Don’t do it!” She tries to hold Ekrem back, clinging to his waist, his legs. She tries to pull me from his hands. Ekrem kicks my mother. […] Ekrem calms down a little after examining me. Then he threatens me, wagging his finger before my eyes. His saliva splatters on my face as he shouts. I see the snot clinging to the nose hairs hanging out of his blackhead-riddled nose. My eyes fixate on the snot. I see his mouth moving but I don’t hear any of his words. It’s as if my ears are stuffed. I lock the door as soon as Ekrem leaves.
Depicted in lapidary, choppy sentences that reflect the mechanical rhythm of the act itself, this rape-like examination78 combined with an outburst of male-related violence is meant to intimidate the girl and teach her a lesson about appropriate behavior in public so that another misconduct of this kind will not happen again. Centering the action on the bodily images highlights its ugliness, forcing an escape route for the “soul” which is futile. However, the protagonist keeps breaking with the existing honor codes by continuing to spend her time with boys outside, which leads to a second incident of virginity testing: “Ekrem examines me again. I get the feeling he enjoys it, that he gets some sort of pleasure from ←57 | 58→examining me. This time my mother doesn’t cry and she doesn’t try to break it up. She’s angry. After Ekrem’s done with me she comes to me and snaps ‘Why can’t you smarten up? Are you doing this on purpose?’ ” While the mother’s lack of solidarity with regard to her daughter might be surprising, such reactions by female family members can be observed quite frequently in fiction (and apparently also in reality)79 when it comes to defending their family’s honor. Before the protagonist’s disrespect of honor-specific rules can turn into a major source of neighborhood gossip, she is sent off to a girls’ boarding school in Istanbul where her virginity will be protected and she will be taught morals. Both her mother and Ekram seem to believe that she is a sinner, whereas in the narrative process of the whole novel she is rather portrayed as a victim who is judged within the existing value system.
