Ilyka’s post on the veil has generated an interesting discussion. Central to a lot of the comments seem to be assumptions about why women wear the veil — and the idea that all veiled women wear it for the same reasons. Or that somehow wearing the veil is always coerced, while non-Muslim Western women have full “choice” in what we wear. Or that the veil, which I also believe is a patriarchal symbol, has static meaning — that is, its purpose and the message it sends don’t shift in different contexts.
I wanted to do a “quote-of-the-day” thing here, but there are too many good ones to choose from. The following are from readings I’ve been doing for my Gender and Islamic Law class, and are specifically about the hijab. At some point, I’ll try and do a post about conflicting histories of hijab, and various theories as to whether or not it’s required. For now, consider the various ways in which women’s rights may not be any more incompatable with Islamic societies than they are with Christian, Hindu, Buddhist or Jewish societies. Consider how hijab operates in societies where it’s not required. Consider the various ways in which veiling offers Muslim women in Western societies a greater degree of freedom, elevated respect in their communities, and a more defined sense of identity. Consider whether it’s particularly effective for Westerners to attack the veil as something “backwards” and “oppressive” and simultaneously something uniquely Arab and Muslim. Now, some thoughts from women who know, and whose voices are too often conspicuosly absent in this debate:
“With the expansion of European power and influence in Ottoman/Middle Eastern economies and politics, a huge body of “scholarly” and travel accounts of the people of the region emerged. Consderable attention was paid by (mostly male) European writers to veiling practices (and, to a lesser degree, polygyny), and the alleged objectionable treatment of Muslim women by their male kin. Implicitly or explicitly, the mission of these writes was to depict Muslim cultures as inferior/backward and in need of progress. It is important to note that modesty — particularly expressed through clothing and through varying degrees of gender segregation — has historically been practised by a wide variety of communities, including most Mediterranean peoples, regardless of religion. Indeed, prior to the nineteenth century, the veil was never viewed as a symbol of Muslim culture; the practice of the veiling and seclusion of women is in fact pre-Islamic and originates in non-Arab Middle Eastern and Mediterranean societies. Historically, veiling — especially when accompanied by seclusion — was a sign of status and was practised by the elite in the ancient Greco-Roman, pre-Islamic Iranian and Byzantine empires. Muslims subsequently adopted the veil and seclusion, and today it is widely recognized, by Muslims and non-Muslims, as an Islamic phenomenon, presumably sanctioned by the Qur’an … It is n oteworthy that it is only since the nineteenth century, after the veil was promoted by colonial occupiers as a prominent symbol of Muslim societies, especially in the travelouges and scholarly publications noted above, that Muslims have justified veiling as Islamic rather than as a cultural practice.”
It is important to point out that various religious groups emphasize modesty among their followers. I’m certainly critical of this, as the modesty requirement usually shames women more than anyone else, and stems from a perspective which sees the human body as shameful, and the female body as representing sex. But this perspective is in no way unique to Islam. That’s important not because it’s an excuse, but because it diffuses the argument that “Islam and modernism are incompatable.” If women can attain greater rights in Christian societies, they can certainly attain greater rights in Islamic societies.
Further, the author here points out one of the primary problems with orientalist scholarship: Since it lacks a comprehensive understanding of the communities it studies, it often misattributes cultural practices to religious ones, and vice-versa. This has been a major issue with the headscarf, the veil, female genital cutting, etc. Those things were cultural practices, and were entrenched long before the time of the Prophet; even after his time, they weren’t all that widely practiced. The Qu’ran requires its followers to present themselves modestly, but nowhere does it require women to cover their hair or their faces. Nowhere does it prescribe clitorectomies. But when Western scholars ventured into the “orient,” they made the link between religion and the veil, and religion and genital cutting. Westerners and colonizers have a great deal of power, especially when their dominance is premised on the notion of their superiority. So their perceptions and reports on Arab/South Asian/North African/Persian/etc communities they studied became the dominant narrative, and shaped the discourse from then on out. When they presented the veil as a “Muslim thing” and then attempted to colonize Muslim nations and forcibly remove or discourage veiling, the people in those Muslim nations reacted by holding fast to their traditions as religious symbols. We see now where that took us.
I’m not arguing that the veil/headscarf/hijab/other covering is not a religious symbol. But I am suggesting that it evolved into being a religious symbol, and perhaps wouldn’t have been quite so contentious if Western Orientalist scholars (and Western people in general) hadn’t been quite so arrogant in their forrays into other countries and cultures.
The authors of this piece also point out that making statements through clothing is nearly universal. What we wear can be a silent protest:
“Given the continued absense of democratic participation and the omnipresence of censorship, it is not surprising that for the populace clothing remained an important vehicle for political expression and for contesting state ideology … It was in this context that the world witnessed the arrests, during the 1980s, of male students attempting to enter Egyptian universities in traditional Egyptian clothing. Few Egyptians were surprised that they were charged with the political crime of subverting the state. Similarly, the ban against Turkish women wearing headscarves when attending university, taking official exams or sitting in Parliament stemmed from the recognition that their presence represents a rejection of the state ideology. Thus it is not surprsing that the presence of veiled women — women clothed in long, loose dresses and head coverings — has attracted so much attention nationally and internationally.”
Consider the example of the Turkish Muslim feminist who wears the hijab not because she believes it’s religiously required, but to show solidarity with all the hijabed women who are kicked out of their university classes when they refuse to remove their headscarves. In her context, does the headscarf hold the same meaning as it does in a country where it’s required, either socially or legally?
The above quotes are from the introductory section to a survey of Canadian women who choose to wear the veil. What becomes apparent is that veiling, for a lot of women, offers greater freedom as they try to straddle the gap between conservative families and more permissive Western societies. From one nineteen-year-old Palestinian-Canadian woman:
“The veil has freed me from arguments and headaches. I always wanted to do many things that women normally do not do in my culture. I had thought living in Canada would give me that opportunity. But when I turned fourteen, my life changed. My parents started to limit my activities and even telephone conversations. My brothers were free to go and come as they pleased, but my sister and I were to be good Muslim girls. Even the books we read became subject to inspection. Life became intolerable for me. The weekends were hell.
Then as a way out, I asked to go to Qur’anic classes on Saturdays. There I met with several veiled women of my age. They came from similar backgrounds. None of them seemed to face my problems. Some told me that since they took the veil, their parents know that they are not going to do anything that goes against Muslim morality. The more I hung around with them, the more convinced I was that the veil is the answer to all Muslim girls’ problems here in North America. Because parents seem to be relieved and assured that you are not going to do stupid things, and your community knows that you are acting like a Muslim woman, you are much freer. Now I am happy, and since I go to Islamic study group, I have learnt a lot. From studying true Islam and comparing notes with Muslims from other countries like Egypt and Syria, I have also realized that so much of what our parents impose on us in the name of Islam is not Islam but is their cultural practice. So I can discuss with them and sometimes I succeed in changing their minds.”
Later in the book, there’s a story of a Muslim girl whose father had arranged a marriage for her. She researched Islamic law, and was able to convince her father that her marriage would be religiously invalid if she were forced into it. Her simple refusal would not have been enough. Making a religious argument allowed her father to save face, and allowed her to get what she needed.
An ideal situation to begin with? No. But given the circumstances, her religion provided her an escape from what could have been a very bad situation — or at least a situation that she wanted to escape from.
We can certainly take issue with the underlying religious ideals at play here — that marriage is the height of a woman’s success, that sexual activity before marriage is bad, that women moreso than men must shoulder the burden of avoiding that activity. I do take issue with all of these things, regardless of which religious ideology they stem from. But it’s also valuable to recognize that, given the pervasiveness of these ideals (and their comparative strength in Muslim communities as opposed to more secular ones), the veil can offer a path to greater freedom. It may be a patriarchal symbol, but it serves a more liberating practical purpose for some women in some contexts.
It also helps some women to establish a more credible identity within the dominant culture. According to a 17-year-old Canadian citizen from Pakistan:
“We came from Pakistan and since we had many friends and relatives, we lived near them. Financially we were not so badly off and that made it easier. Although we did not intermingle much with non-Indian-Canadians, I very much felt at home and part of the wider society. This, however, changed as I got older and clearly my life was different than many girls in my class. I did not talk about boyfriends and did not go out. I did not participate in extracurricular activities. Gradually, I began feeling isolated. Then my cousin and I decided together to wear the veil and made a pact to ignore people’s comments, that no matter how much hardship we suffered at school, we would keep our veils on.
One weekend we announced this to our surprised parents. They were perplexed that their fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds had decided to take such a drastic measure without consulting them. At that time, there were not very many Pakistani women in Montreal who wore the modern veil. Most women wear our traditional clothes. Our parents consented, though they did not think we would stick with it. But we did. At first it was difficult. At school people joked and asked stupid questions, but after three months they took us more seriously and there was even a little bit of respect. People no longer invited us to their parties, knowing we could not go, and we did not have to apologize or explain. The teachers did not try to convince our parents that swimming is compulsory. We even got a little more respect when we talked about Islam in our classes, while before our teacher dismissed what we said it if didn’t agree with her casual perceptions. Now I have no problem wearing the veil, even though I do like to let my hair loose, but the trade-off is worth it.”
Many women also point out that the veil frees them from the male gaze, and from being a sex object. As one of the women interviewed in the book says, “There is no in-between, at least when you are young. Our society forces you to be either a person or a woman and object of desire. So for now and as long as I have the courage, I would rather be a person.”
It’s unfortunate that women in Western society feel they have to choose between their bodies and their brains. Obviously, the big-picture solution is to try and shift our cultural mentality which tells women that their physical appearance is the most valuable thing they have to offer. We have to create a society in which women will feel safe in public spaces, regardless of what they’re wearing. But until we successfully do that, women will cope. Some women will adapt to beauty culture. Others will purposefully and forcefully reject it, whether through refusing to shave their legs or not wearing make-up or donning a veil. From the conclusion of this piece:
“Historically, clothing has carried significant communicative power. Clothing frequently indicates age, gender, social class, ethnicity and religion. It can mark (or blur) social boundaries, forge or destroy alliance. Clothing is used by the powerful to reinforce power, while the underclasses, through an appropriation and manipulation of clothing, can shift the balance of power and challenge the status quo. In short, clothing has been and continues to be a potent vehicle of symbolic communication.
Framing the veiling debate in a context broader than the conventional, dichotomous one of religion/Islam/patriarchy versus individual freedom of choice provides a more comprehensive understanding of this practice. It cautions us, for instance, against transposing an Iranian or Saudi Arabian notion of the compulsory veil onto the Egyption or European or Canadian context, where we must understand veiling as a voluntary act with a multiplicity of motives and meanings. This broadening of the discussion will help us view a veiled woman not as a passive subject, but as an active agent involved in redefining her position and options in the contemporary context of her life.
The veil in Canada plays a crucial role of mediation and adaptation for many young Muslim women, something the literature has totally overlooked. Often the veil has allowed muslim women to participate in public life without compromising values and hard-won cultural and religious rights. In a North American context, adoption of the veil symbolizes women’s religiosity and commitment to Islamic mores, while allowing them to resist partiarchal values and cultural practices imposed elsewhere in the name of Islam. In a similar fashion, veiled women can argue for their Islamic right to choose their spouse and resist arranged marriages without compromising family and community support. And veiling, along with a self-taught knowledge of Islamic practices, is used by some women to counter the control of male and senior family members and as a way of exercising considerable power themselves by preaching proper religious observance.
Wearing the veil has defused parents’ resistance to their daughters’ leaving home for university, entering the labour market and engaging in other activities in the public domain that are considered unconventional for Muslim women.”
That is a net good.
This shouldn’t be interpreted as a pro-covering apology. As I wrote before, I do believe that the veil is a highly problematic patriarchal symbol. However, I also believe that it’s an item of clothing that has multiple meanings, and that can shift in its symbolism. For a lot of women and girls, it means freedom. We can take issue with the things that are limiting their freedom in the first place, and we can recognize that they’re being put in an unjust place by having to choose the veil in order to maximize their freedom. But going after the veil itself by outlawing it, or suggesting that employers should be able to refuse veiled women work, doesn’t help anyone. It creates a major barrier for many women. And it only hurts women and girls. It doesn’t go after the patriarchal ideas that support the veil. It doesn’t challenge the fathers and the brothers who believe that their daughters and sisters should live more limited lives. It doesn’t give women a wider variety of choices.
I will almost certainly write more on this later. All quotes are from the article “More Than Clothing: Veiling as an Adaptive Strategy” by Homa Hoodfar, in “The Muslim Veil in North Ameirca: Issues and Debates.” edited by Sajida Sultana Alvi, Homa Hoodfar and Sheila McDonough.