On Dec. 17 2010, Mohamed Bouazizi, a young unemployed engineer working as a vegetable trader, set himself on fire in Sidi Bouzid, Tunisia, triggering nationwide protests against poverty and unemployment. Then president, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, visited him in the hospital, which would be one of his last efforts to save face and make amends. My family and I were living in Libya back in 2011, so we did not witness much of the uprisings, but I vividly remember the day we found out that he fled after 23 years in power, which was less than a month later. I was sitting in the living room, when I heard loud footsteps going down the stairs, and my older sister’s echo: “Ben Ali hrab”, Ben Ali fled.

Photo taken in 2015, in Zaghouan, in the Northern part of the country. / Photo Courtesy of Yesmine Abida.

While the gap between socioeconomic classes is increasing, generally the Southern parts of Tunisia are most notorious for protests due to uneven political, social and institutional development that started since Tunisia’s independence in 1956.

I think that as a preteen, I realized the true proportion of what was occurring when my family and I visited an auction for the luxurious items Ben Ali and his family owned. Going through the auction, seeing around 100 cars and a massive room filled with luxurious clothing and jewelry, I had a lot of questions, many of which I still have today. Where did the money from auctions go? Is the old regime truly over? Will the symbolic act of auctioning announce a new chapter of Tunisia’s history that is free of corruption?

There was a house in Tunis we used to pass by that belonged to a relative of the Trabelsi family, the family of Ben Ali’s wife, Leila Trabelsi, that was looted and graffitied in 2011. I saw it again two years ago, and it was painted over and prepared to be reintegrated into the housing market.

The Trabelsi house in 2013. / Photo Courtesy of Yesmine Abida.

I was often confused as to why news sources called it the Jasmine Revolution, when there was a relentless feeling of instability, especially between 2011 and 2014. Still, I grew up with this vision of progress and patriotism, and I think that as I got older, this vision was supplemented by realism. I voted for the first time in the September 2019 presidential elections, and with that vote, I felt a stronger sense of responsibility that I previously did not have.

Ben Ali died in exile during the 2019 elections, which seemed like a new chapter in Tunisia’s history, but paradoxically, there were nostalgic sentiments expressed for him. There was an increase in people wanting the old regime back, with a counter revolution movement led by Abir Moussi, the president of the Free Destourian Party and member of Parliament. Moussi denies that a revolution took place and advocates for practices to encourage authoritarian regimes and regressive policies for women and minority rights. Considering that the next elections occur in 2024, and with Covid-19’s impact on the economy, I fear this movement, which I equate to facism, simmering in the political sphere.

But there have been some breakthroughs in these last six democratic elections. To name a few, Tunisia is currently the freest country in the Arab World, with freedom of speech being at the highest it has ever been. The National Dialogue Quartet was awarded a Nobel Prize in 2015, the parliament passed a landmark law on violence against women and Tunisia became the second African country to criminalize racism in 2018.

But the looming question remains: was it worth it? Tunisia has become the poster child for the Arab Uprisings, but Tunisians seem to be losing hope. According to the Afro Barometer, trust in democracy has decreased, from 71 percent in 2013 to 46 percent in 2018.

Photo Courtesy of Yesmine Abida.

Sometime during the winter of 2014, my family and I were driving past a protest in Avenue Habib Bourguiba in Tunis, and I asked them to park the car so I could take a few photos. They generally always bear with my random photo opportunity requests.

As I write this article, thousands of medics are striking following the death of Badreddine Aloui, a doctor who died after falling into an elevator shaft. The faulty lift was reported seven years ago, but due to negligence, no sign was put up. The fact that this tragedy occurred almost 10 years after Bouazizi’s self-immolation puts directly into question how many changes have been made to address corruption, social justice and regional disparity.

July 16 2020, the elected opposition take the chair of the president of the parliament Rached Ghannouchi. / Photo Courtesy of Le Courrier De L’Atlas.

Tunisian politicians are enthusiastic about the democratic transition, as they rightfully should be, but socioeconomic issues should not be put in the backburner. It should be front and center of our revolution, because political advancement does not equate to success. As a Tunisian living abroad, I feel pride for every single news headline released, which shows the issuing of progressive laws, particularly women’s rights. Coming back home during winter and summer breaks, however, left me feeling estranged. Especially when, each summer, I hear more and more about the difficulty that women in Southern parts of Tunisia endure, while their husbands smoke shisha and play card games at cafes. Their labor is more hazardous work than men, has lower pay, and there are often headlines of accidents.

. Men at a cafe, Sfax, 2018. / Photo Courtesy of Yesmine Abida.

10 years ago, every single strata of society was disrupted. When I think about the revolution, I don’t just think of those who took to the Avenue of Habib Bourguiba, protesting on unemployment, food prices and lack of dignity. I think of all those that have been oppressed since our decolonization, who stood against authoritarian regimes. The Black Tunisians, the Tunisian Jews, the Amazigh, and all those whose identities have been erased by the nation-building project. The people living in the Southern part of the country that were neglected for decades because of unequal economic opportunities and growth. The lives lost crossing the Mediteranean Ocean. The unemployed youth. The victims of terrorist attacks.

. An ‘atar, which is the Tunisian equivalent of a baqala, at the entrance of the Souk in the medina quarter of the city of Sfax. / Photo Courtesy of Yesmine Abida.

As a Tunisian living abroad, I am aware of my positionality — it’s easier to be an optimist when you are looking from the outside in. But every time I visit home, I ask myself these perplexing questions, on whether this was worth it, whether Tunisia will be able to work on these deeply rooted socioeconomic issues, and what success would even look like. Many articles trying to address these very questions have been, and will continue to be, written to mark this ten year anniversary. While I cannot offer any answers, what I am certain of is that every single Tunisian deserves the right to dignity.