Being an atheist in Egypt often feels like living in a constant state of invisibility.
I am an Egyptian, born and raised in a country where Islam is not just a personal faith but an inseparable part of the cultural and political fabric. To reject religion here in Egypt is not seen as a choice but as a rebellion — a dangerous act that invites suspicion, rejection, and sometimes even legal trouble.
In Egypt, atheism is not illegal, but the reality is far from free. Publicly identifying as an atheist can lead to accusations of blasphemy or “spreading debauchery,” charges that carry severe punishments. Article 98(f) of the Egyptian Penal Code criminalises acts that “undermine religion,” often used as a tool to silence us.
One of the most well-known cases is that of Alber Saber, a Coptic Christian-turned-atheist. In 2012, he was accused of promoting atheism and insulting religion on Facebook. A mob attacked his home, and instead of protecting him, the police arrested him. He was later sentenced to three years in prison for “contempt of religion.”
I remember reading about another young man, Sherif Gaber, who gained attention for his YouTube videos discussing atheism and secularism. Sherif has been in and out of trouble with the authorities since 2013, when he was first arrested at university for expressing atheist views. He has since been forced to flee the country, living in exile to avoid further persecution.
The media doesn’t help. Atheists are often portrayed as immoral, confused, or even mentally ill. On one occasion, Egyptian TV aired a segment in which a guest claiming to be an atheist was ambushed live on air, ridiculed, and forced to “repent.” It felt humiliating to watch, knowing that this is how society sees us—broken people in need of fixing.
Even family life can be stifling. When I first hinted at my disbelief to a close cousin, the reaction was shock and shame. “Don’t tell anyone else,” they whispered. “This will ruin us.” For many atheists in Egypt, the family’s reputation often becomes a prison.
Social spaces for people like me are virtually non-existent. There are no organisations or safe forums where we can gather and discuss our views openly. Online spaces provide some respite, but even there, anonymity is essential for survival. Any public statement could lead to cyber harassment, job loss, or worse.
Despite the isolation, there is hope. I have found solidarity with others who share my views, albeit quietly. The internet has connected us in ways that were impossible before. We dream of a day when expressing disbelief won’t be seen as an act of treachery.
Egypt prides itself on being a historically diverse society, yet it struggles to embrace true pluralism. We don’t ask for special treatment—just the freedom to exist without fear. Until then, we remain voices in the dark, waiting for a brighter day.
This is my truth as an atheist in Egypt. Perhaps one day, the country will understand that faith—or the lack of it—is deeply personal and should never be a reason for exclusion.