Tag Archives: Tunisia

Tunisia’s rap revolution: 5 women who are redefining hip-hop

A female rapper performing outdoors at night, wearing a purple top and camouflage pants, with urban scenery in the background.
Snapshot from Medusa’s music video for the song ‘Harissa‘.

Jyhene Kebsi, Macquarie University

Women rappers were not really a feature of Tunisia’s typically masculine and chauvinist hip-hop scene until the revolution that overthrew Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali in 2011.

Now there are several politically conscious female voices rising in the rap scene. Gender studies scholar Jyhene Kebsi has published a research paper on how their lyrics highlight the multiple inequalities that women in Tunisia – and the world – must overcome.


How have male Tunisian rappers generally treated women in their songs and videos?

The gender politics of Tunisian men’s rap is complex, but we can talk about one of its tendencies. Although there are men who’ve supported their female colleagues and collaborated with them on songs, their portrayals tend to lump women into one of two groups: virtuous or promiscuous; madonnas or whores.

This is clear in their use of obscene words that aim to degrade the “fallen” women they rap about. Their sexual references can be seen as a way to debase the “easy girls and immoral women” who challenge patriarchal norms.

This is in sharp contrast to the love and indebtedness they express towards their mothers and sisters. In contrast to western rap, the mother figure is central in Tunisian rap.

The sacredness of the mother in Tunisian Muslim culture is seen in songs full of gratitude towards those who brought them into the world.

Their reliance on this male-centred division between “respectable” and “unrespectable” women spreads a toxic masculinity that supports harmful gender stereotypes.

This strengthens men’s social dominance and their policing of women’s bodies. Having said that, it is very important to highlight that sexism is not limited to the Arab rap scene. As I explain in my paper, many western male rappers objectify, humiliate and degrade women in their songs too.

Who are the four female rappers you discuss?

The four Tunisian women rappers I analyse are Sabrina, Medusa, Queen Nesrine and Tuny Girl.

There’s a common perception that Medusa was Tunisia’s first female rapper. In reality, Sabrina began performing rap in 2007 and Tunisia’s other female artists joined the rap scene after the 2011 revolution.

Medusa is Tunisia’s most famous female rapper in the west – her migration to France boosted her international profile. Although Tuny Girl and Queen Nesrine have not gained the fame of Medusa or Sabrina, they’ve released powerful feminist songs that criticise the status quo in post-revolutionary Tunisia.

These artists have mainly relied on digital media to share their songs with the public through social platforms like YouTube and Facebook. Unfortunately, all four of them have faced opposition because they’re women.

Rap is considered a masculine musical genre. Tunisian women’s initial entry into this male-dominated world was not easily accepted. Attitudes towards female rappers have evolved thanks to women’s gradual success in attracting a larger fan base.

But these four artists share a strong resistance to sexism. Most importantly, while being aware of patriarchal pressures, they’re conscious of the many different forms of oppression that intersect to keep women less equal than men.

This is evident in their songs, which reflect a strong awareness of intersectionality.

What is intersesectionality?

The black US feminist Kimberle Crenshaw coined the term “intersectionality” in 1989 to describe the double discrimination of sexism and racism faced by black women. So, she used the term to discuss the multiple forms of inequality that compound themselves and create interlocking obstacles that shape black women’s experiences of discrimination.

Intersectionality highlights the experiences of multiple forms of discrimination when these categories of social identity interact with and shape one another.

We see an understanding of intersectionality in a song like Hold On, where Medusa raps about illiteracy, political struggle and motherhood:

I am watching the floating misery / Illiteracy has spread and made us go from one extreme to the other / Where is the freedom for which activists struggled? / I am the free Tunisian who exposed their chest to bullets / I am the mother, the mother of the martyr who has not gotten his revenge.

Or, in her song Arahdli, Sabrina raps about a range of social ills:

Leave me alone / The police catch you and harm you / Don’t believe the corrupt state / Unemployment and poverty will not make you happy.

I found that what Medusa, Sabrina, Queen Nesrine and Tuny Girl have in common is their rejection of, as Crenshaw puts it, the “single-axis framework”. The one-sided narrative that reduces women’s problems solely to men and patriarchy.

Instead, these artists highlight the damaging impact – for women – of the intersection of gender inequality, political corruption, unjust laws, ineffective local policies, the collapse of Tunisia’s economy and the country’s weak position in the global geopolitical landscape.

Their songs are united in their recognition that Tunisian women’s lives are shaped by all these overlapping power structures, exposing them to marginalisation and discrimination.

So, their songs identify hidden, interrelated structural barriers to their freedom. Misogyny is just one element that needs to be considered alongside other local and global issues when we discuss gender politics in Tunisia.

What other new trends are female rappers ushering in?

Women are at the forefront of innovation in Tunisian rap. Take Lully Snake. She’s a Tunisian-Algerian rapper based in Tunisia. This 24-year-old artist was previously a breakdancer. Her passion for hip-hop culture and her love for US artists like Tupac, Kool G Rap, Queen Latifah and Foxy Brown led her to start rapping.

Like all Tunisian women rappers, she considers her entry into rap to have been a long and difficult journey. Starting in 2019, her first song was only released in 2024.

Lully Snake first uploaded her debut song Zabatna Kida on Instagram. Its uniqueness lies in its combination of rap and mahraganat, an Egyptian street music that emerged in Cairo’s ghettos. Its success encouraged her to carry on rapping in both Tunisian and Egyptian, alongside other western languages and Maghrebi dialects.

Lully Snake’s experimentation proves that female rappers are innovating while spreading messages that empower women. This has ultimately enriched Tunisian rap.

Jyhene Kebsi, Director of Learning & Teaching (Gender Studies), Macquarie University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Tunisian artist makes waves with her new album and an all-female team (video)

The artist, who has defiantly performed in treacherous places despite threats from authorities, is making history with her all-female team behind the production of her new album.

Thesupermat, CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

“Nar” means fire in Arabic and that is exactly what Tunisian musician, songwriter and activist, Emel Mathlouthi, brings with her latest single. The following music video shows Emel encompassed by women; her colleagues, friends and fellow soldiers. “I am a soldier, I am a fighter, I am a bullet,” she sings in English and further covers topics of freedom and empowerment in the Tunisian language as well.

For the single, Emel teamed up with Mali’s first female Mandinka rapper, Ami Yerewolo, and speaking of the track she says that it’s “about taking back control of our lives, our story, our colour, our word. We’re building an army to take back women’s voices.

After captivating her native audience in Tunisia she started performing around the world, at Montreux Jazz Festival in Switzerland and Glastonbury Festival in the UK. Additionally, and defiantly, she has performed on stages in Palestine and Iran which, according to this Vogue article, she describe as a “turning point” for her.

“Performing in Palestine last summer, which is so hard to get into, meant the world to me because you meet people who just want to live life like everybody else. They just want to go to a concert and be happy… Their resilience was inspiring. Despite everything they’ve been through, they really teach you about life. It marked a turning point for me.”

Emel’s new album, MRA, will drop later this month and based on the latest single we’re all in for a treat.

The History Of Protest Songs In Tunisia And Their Link To Popular Culture

By Alessia Carnevale

Music genres such as rap have become the primary artistic means for expressing the discontent and aspirations of a new generation of activists in Tunisia. But the heritage of protest songs from decades before is still held in the collective memory of young leftists.

From the mid-1970s and throughout the 1980s, during the regime of Habib Bourguiba, the protest song in Tunisia developed as a countercultural music scene. This is a period characterised by economic instability and waves of protest and political contestation.

The protest song was the product of the cultural work of Tunisian leftist parties and organisations, which were particularly active in the student movement and influential among grassroot unionists.

Why was such a popular art form important for the cultural work of the Tunisian left? In my research I argue that leftist activists found in popular culture – and in songs in particular – a powerful tool. It could raise awareness among young people, galvanise activists and spread socialist revolutionary ideas. These songs become a link in the longer chain of resistant cultural practices in the country.

Art and politics

In Tunisia, the protest song is called al-ughniya al-multazima in Arabic, or chanson engagée in French. Both literally mean “committed song” and put an emphasis on the political and social aim of this genre. Art, in this case music and poetry, was a vehicle to convey a message.

In the 1970s and 1980s protest song groups formed and artists were increasingly visible. Among the pioneers of this genre there were the songwriter Hédi Guella and the group Imazighen. They performed on university campuses and at unionist venues, animating political gatherings and events. They exhibited in cultural centres and some participated in important cultural festivals. Their songs were rarely broadcast on TV or radio, but tape recordings circulated widely among activists and students.

The songs were mostly typical of the Arabic musical tradition, created on instruments such as the oud, the nay and the darbuka.

Their political and cultural framework distinguishes these songs from previous popular chants of protest (for example against colonialism) as well as from patriotic songs (praising the nationalist regime).

A new popular culture

The 1970s and 1980s protest songs were expression of a counterculture that was at odds with the ideology propagated by the regime of Bourguiba, who died in 1987.

Bourguiba had come to power in 1956 as the leader of the nationalist movement against French colonialism. Educated, middle-class and rather Western-oriented, he promoted a modernist and reformist ideology. In the last two decades of his regime, he was losing consensus among the population at large and among the new cultural and intellectual elite.

The Tunisian radical left was increasingly influenced by Maoism and Arab Nationalism. They recognised that a connection with the working class would be impossible without an appreciation of the Arab-Muslim identity of the Tunisian people.

The left engaged in cultural work for the creation of a new national-popular culture. This needed to be rooted in the people’s culture but also be an expression of a progressive and socialist ideology. Marxist theorists such as Antonio Gramsci had become influential. His ideas on cultural work, hegemony (the dominance of one group over another) and common sense had penetrated the Arab intellectual world.

Songs were one of the most efficient tools for implementing this project. They were easy to propagate with the new and cheap technology of audio cassette. Concerts were organised on a small budget, attracting hundreds of people.

The oasis and the mine

Among the many interpreters of the protest song in Tunisia, two popular singing groups stand out.

Al-Bahth al-Musiqi (The Musical Research Group) hailed from the southern Mediterranean city of Gabes, which lies beside an oasis and has, since the 1970s, hosted a massive chemical industry complex. Awlad al-Manajim (The Children of the Mines) were from Moulares, a village near Gafsa, situated in a phosphate mining basin.

Both groups, still active in Tunisia today, were born from places where industrialisation and the exploitation of natural resources deeply transformed the once rural environment. This industry would ultimately impoverish and harm the resident population.

The members of al-Bahth al-Musiqi were university students active in the student movement. The members of Awlad al-Manajim were workers who supported the workers’ struggles in their hometown.

Both groups were cherished by leftist activists and unionists for their performances and for the strong revolutionary message of their songs.

Both groups created a popular yet revolutionary cultural product. To do so they drew from modern Arabic poetry, for example singing poems by Mahmoud Darwish supporting the Palestinian people. But in particular they drew on themes and styles typical of Tunisian folklore and vernacular poetry. They responded in an original manner to the need to create a new, popular, socialist culture for the masses.

They took inspiration from other Arab experiences. Composer and singer Marcel Khalife (Lebanon), experimental musical group Nass el-Ghiwane (Morocco) and especially the duo of musician Sheikh Imam and vernacular poet Ahmed Fouad Negm (Egypt). This musical production represented a new, revolutionary and genuinely popular culture.

Hence, al-Bahth al-Musiqi produced songs like Hela Hela Ya Matar (Come Down O Rain), Nekhlat Wad el-Bey (The Palm Tree of Wad El Bey) or Bsisa (a traditional southern dish). These juxtapose rural imagery with national symbolism and revolutionary slogans.

Similarly, Awlad al-Manajim’s repertoire includes local songs about the harshness of life in the mining region, like Ya Damus (The Tunnel), and songs calling for workers’ solidarity and Arab unity against imperialism, like Nashid el-Sha’b (The Hymn of the People).

A heritage of resistance

The popular protest song scene in Tunisia declined with the rise of the Ben Ali dictatorship in the 1990s. But it never disappeared. After the 2011 revolution forced Ben Ali from power, some of the old singing groups reunited and claimed their space in the newly democratised cultural scene.

In Tunisia today, protest music takes many forms, from rap to electro. However, the old protest songs are still chanted at political gatherings, commemorations and festivals.

Despite being scarcely documented and studied, the Tunisian protest song of the 1970s and 1980s is an integral part of a resistant collective memory. It is loaded with emotional and political meaning for a generation of political activists and unionists.

The study of this experience may offer a new perspective on Tunisia’s cultural and political life under authoritarianism. It sheds light on the continuing and constant presence of dissent and revolutionary culture in the country – one that paved the way for the events that, in 2011, eventually overthrew dictatorship.

Alessia Carnevale, PhD candidate, Sapienza University of Rome

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.