Visiting the Hijab… Again.

Farah

Last month a forum was held at the Adelaide Festival of Ideas focussing on Islam and feminism. Called “Beyond the Veil: Islam and Feminism”, it involved Dr Professor Gary Bouma, a sociology academic at Monash University, Zainah Anwar, founder of Malaysian group Sisters in Islam (SIS) and a founding director of Musawah and Dr Shakira Hussein, an academic at ANU.

So with big expectations about the forum and the issues that would (potentially) be discussed, the title irritates me. Articles with the title beyond/under/underneath/uncovering/taking off/doing something to the hijab/veil/burka and other similar metaphors fixate on items of clothing and taking them off. The moderator mentioned that the word “beyond” was chosen because they wanted a discussion on Islam and feminism which included the hijab in the discussion but wasn’t fixated on it. It’s a valid sentiments but it could’ve been done without the reference to it.

The forum goes over 1 hour long and some interesting points were made (you can download the podcast here). In this post I wanted to focus on a few points made in the debate. For me the most interesting aspect was hearing Zainah Anwar speak. The development of gender politics in South East Asia is a really interesting area and I’ve done some research focusing on the work Sisters in Islam do in Malaysia. Throughout the forum Anwar highlights the challenge she believes Muslim feminists pose by questioning the authority of male-dominated institutions – “who decides this is the verse that determines the relationship between men and women? Who decides which interpretation will be favoured over the other?” The question of ‘authority’ is a significant one. Women’s groups are operating within a traditionally male-dominated environment. Law and social reform by these groups is met with a constant stream of arguments against their struggle in order to silence these dissenting voices within society. The recent experience of SIS highlights this point. They spoke out against the caning of Kartika Sari Dewi Shukarno, but have been accused of being agents for foreign anti-Islamic groups. On this issue I’d add to Anwar that (it’s clichéd but true) history is written by people with authority – people who shape our understanding of past events. For Islam this means that a rich history of women’s leadership and empowerment is denied to women. Like Anwar states, these are tactics used by men to maintain the status quo: to silence and delegitimize dissenting voices in society.

Early in the forum Hussein mentions an important point on discussions of Islam. Women are included in the discussion but are routinely sidelined to discuss only the hijab, whereas men are given the space and power to discuss everything else which affects Muslims. Krista at MMW made a similar point when reviewing a forum organised by ISNA. Another point which Hussein highlights is the obsession with the hijab. The hijab continues to be the focal point of the discussion on Islam and women’s rights especially among non-Muslims (Chesler v Wolf, anyone?) While discussion on Islamic feminism should go further than the hijab, Muslim women respond to those writers because our voices should be included within the debate. But the same issues get repeated again and again and it’s difficult to try and move beyond that discussion because so much of the focus is on the hijab. It’s something I’ve encountered here at Nuseiba – I’ve written a lot of non-hijab posts but there’s an equal amount of posts focussing on the hijab. I think I’ve discussed the hijab more on this blog than anywhere else which is a little odd for me sometimes because I don’t have that much experience with it. In the end, the constant focus on the hijab obscures the real issue: challenging the structures which perpetuate the disempowerment of women.

Another point which was mentioned in the forum and is often overlooked is the diversity among Muslim woman’s dress. For the majority of Muslim women the distinction isn’t as simple as being veiled/unveiled. Hussein discusses her experiences in Pakistan, and their quite similar to mine with the Kashmiris I know. I mentioned above that I don’t have much experience with the hijab and I don’t – in my family and wider community there’s only 3 women who wear the hijab. However, while women don’t wear the hijab, they do veil when the situation requires them to. Most of the women, including my mother, wear shalwar kameez and cover their hair with their dupattas when they need too. Veiling and unveiling is more a continuum of experience rather than a strict dichotomy. There are women who wear hijab and women who don’t, there are some women who fall in between those two positions, some women used to wear the hijab but decided to stop, some don’t wear the hijab but want to, some who don’t at all but wear modest clothes otherwise and not all women who wear hijab do so in the same way. These sound like simple enough points to be making but its a diversity which is often overlooked in debates on women’s dress in Islam. In the end, there are no easy cookie cutter categories to slot in Muslim women. The hijab represents just one aspect of that diversity.

One of the questions asked by the audience at the end of the forum was whether western feminists have a place commenting on Muslim women. It’s an issue that’s come up time and time again, on this blog and elsewhere. Both Anwar and Hussein stressed that in regards to gender politics within Islam Muslim women must lead the way to change. Feminists decrying the Taliban were criticised for taking up that struggle ahead of the women they were ‘liberating’. Afghan women were sidelined in the debate and denied the agency to fight their own struggle. Anwar also mentions an important point which Hussein has also mentioned elsewhere – imposed solutions do not work. You can’t force liberation on people. Anwar cites the example of Amina Lawal where Nigerian women’s groups criticised the action taken by international human rights groups. The Nigerian women wanted to challenge their own legal system. Muslim women need to win the battle domestically so that the change is rooted within social practice and is sustainable over the long term. However, whether this means that western non-Muslim feminists are completely precluded from commenting on issues effecting Muslim women wasn’t ruled out by Anwar or Hussein. My own position is to say leave it alone. But while would be great if non-Muslim feminists stopped talking endlessly about the hijab and burqa and polygamy etc I don’t think they ever will. One commentator on Sahar’s last post said that Sahar wasn’t leaving much room for Western non-Muslim feminists to enter into a conversation about ‘global feminist interests’. Ultimately, maybe that’s the problem – the assumption that they have an interest at stake in the discussion on women’s rights within Islam.

While the forum didn’t completely challenge my ideas on Islam and feminism, the speakers mentioned some very interesting points – things which tend to be overlooked. Overall, the forum is a good introduction to the diversity of opinion in Islam and gender politics.

The Permission to Narrate

Sahar

Feminists Naomi Wolf and Philis Chesler have recently been debating the topic of the ‘veil’ and Muslim women. It’s become somewhat of a heated debate with both sides claiming they have a better insight into the lives of Muslim women. This audacious insight of course does not actually rely on actual engagement with Muslim women, nor the participation of Muslim women in this debate– aside from brief references that are then interpreted and made to make sense through the position of both women.

Just a brief overview of the debate first:  Wolf’s experience in Morocco led her to make the following claim that Muslim women are not necessarily restricted by their religious attire (chador and headscarf) and in fact feel liberated, especially sexually. From these observations, Wolf calls for a more nuanced approach in understanding women’s freedom. Chesler has responded with the charge that Wolf is legitimizing oppressive practices and responds with outrageous statements that conclude with the following: Muslim women are oppressed in Islamic attire, they lack agency, and the Western approach to liberation is more fitting.

What interested me was the assumption of these women to debate the issue of the hijab (whatever forms of it) and the experiences of Muslim women without involving a practicing Muslim woman who observes the hijab or at least be a part of the community and faith that practices it,  and thus be more qualified on the subject.

Wolf attempts to recognise the opinions of Moroccan women and speaks on their experiences, but her own understanding of Islam, Muslim women or even the subject of Muslim dress seems to be too difficult for her when she confuses Pakistani dress (‘shalwar kameez’) with Moroccan Islamic dress which can come in the form of niqaab, abaya, jilbaba or just modestly dressed in loose pants/skirt/top and a headscarf.  So Wolf not only ignores the differences in cultural dress—for the Muslim world is just one monolithic entity anyway– these differences don’t really exist and can all fall under the category of ‘traditional dress’ conveniently juxtaposed against Western ‘modern dress’. By wearing any traditional Muslim dress (‘shalwar kazmeez’), Wolf thinks she has direct access to the experiences of Muslim women. Dress therefore becomes the embodiment of Muslim women’s lives, and a way to access their world.

As for Chesler, she too does not have much credibility (not that she does in the first place considering her inane islamophobic and racist views on Palestinians and Muslims as a whole) when she declares that ‘most’ Muslim girls and women are not given a choice in wearing any Islamic dress.  She supports her claims by shamelessly citing two women (Hirsi Ali and Nouri Darwish) who have publicly renounced Islam and have built their careers on feeding Islamophobic hysteria in the West.  So Muslim women are spoken for either through an Islamophobic feminist or apostates who work for right-wing American think tanks bent on demonizing Muslims and Islam.

Putting these absurdities aside, I also find it telling how the debate treats Muslim women as objects in an exhibition, as spectacles, who function as objects to be analysed, observed, dissected, commented and repackaged to be easily consumed by a Western audience. Muslim women’s voices are only heard through interpretation of two white women (the subject) who assume the permission to narrate what it is like to be a Muslim woman who chooses to cover her head, in whatever form.

The alienness of Muslim culture is retold in the language of universalism (western norms and feminist ideals) to ease the anxiety of the Western observer towards difference. We see this in how Wolf insists that there are similar sentiments behind Islamic dress that Western feminists can relate to “This may not be expressed in a traditional Western feminist set of images, but it is a recognisably Western feminist set of feelings”.  Or in the intimacy of Muslim homes, the presence of designer labels like Victoria Secret is comforting. Muslim mores are measured against white Western standards and only legitimised and accepted once shared values and practices are recognised. To send the reassuring message: “see, they are just like ‘us’”.

The notion of white being a signifier of objectivity is imperative here. Wolf, like the colonial traveler, is an objective observer who can participate in the local customs and wear the traditional dress– yet can remain ‘detached’ from her surrounding in order to make perceptive observations that can be taken away for examination.  Thus, both women’s subjectivities as white, upper-middle class Western women are not called into question when they speak on behalf of Muslim women in this debate. It is in fact this same subjectivity that permits them to narrate for Muslim women.  They speak with an unquestionable authority as whiteness has a moral-worth of its own masquerading as universal and never questioned.

So it is not that Muslim women are silenced by her hijab, as many white  feminists like to claim, but because they are made to be silent by those who wish to speak for them.

Princess Hijab

Farah

I was going to write a response to this article by Phyllis Chesler. Her article contains gems of wisdom like “most Muslim girls and women are impoverished and wear rags” and “I am told that the Saudis fly in fresh planeloads of Parisian prostitutes every week.” But I’m getting a little tired of repeating the same arguments over and over. Instead, I want to write about Princess Hijab, the creation of a Parisian guerrilla street artist. Princess Hijab uses the imagery of the niqab to subvert commercial imagery by drawing then onto billboards and posters, and also tags with her ‘Hijab-ad’ prints.

In an interview at Menassat Princess Hijab cites a number of different influences on her work, including “the Woman. No logo from Naomi Klein, The anti-advertising movement… the gender movements… the straight edge, the nerd-centrism, atheism symbolism, urban legends, the allegories and the new myths.” I remember reading No Logo eight years ago; I think it was probably the first (proper) non-fiction book I had read (well, it was either that or Merinissi’s The Veil and the Male Elite – I can’t really remember that far back anymore). I’m not sure if I understood it all back at 15 (so, so long ago) but it was a big wake up. Later at uni I would re-visit and (badly) write about one of the central topics of Klein’s book: what she refers to as “semiotic Robin Hoodism”: culture jamming.

Culture jamming seeks to hijack and politicise the message of mass culture’s main language: advertisements. Adbusters is probably the most well-known organisation (whether or not they continue to uphold their same principles is debatable) and like the stuff Adbusters do Princess Hijab’s art does share a critique of mass culture and consumerism. But, Princess Hijab “does not subvert images in an American way.” Which I can understand – culture jamming I’ve seen is largely ignorant of non-Western experiences. Her approach is unique because she infuses her art with an identity politics; she appropriates an image used by mass culture to symbolise oppression and subjugation and subverts it to challenge dominant constructs of women, Islam and femininity.

In her own words, “Princess Hijab knows that L’Oréal and Dark & Lovely have been killing her little by little. She feels that the veil is no longer that white. She feels contaminated … By day, she wears a white veil, symbol of purity. By night, her black veil is the expression of her vengeful fight for a cause.” She states she isn’t linked to any political ideology or group, but it’s hard to deny the relationship between art, culture and power evident through her work. Through her art she creates sites of resistance both disruptive and creative: sites where opposition can be mounted but also where the viewer can meaningfully engage with the content.

One of the criticisms of her art is that it is too simplistic to offer an alternative to the ideology of mass culture. But I think the criticism is unwarranted –We all use discursive techniques in which we’re fluent; for me its writing. For Princess Hijab it’s taking an image used to symbolize oppression, appropriating it and using it to represent something entirely different – a meaning we have to construct for ourselves. And culture jamming relies on the immediacy of the image and the interaction between viewer and viewed.

Advertising renders nearly anything a brand; it mines culture for its ideas, representations and forms. And in this era of visual marketing, Princess Hijab explores notions of public space and representation, challenging ideological constructs and representations with her distinctive imagery. Her work is an example of how semiotic guerrilla warfare can be used to counter the symbolist imagery adopted by mass culture.

Whether you realise it or not, you are in the midst of a culture war. The key element in the forthcoming struggle will be a battle for domination of key concept areas. It is necessary for us to predict future developments and invest our energies in ‘fringe’ activities where we judge that the issues will become key ones at a later date. Not only issues but the very language is used to formulate the debate must reflect our thinking. If we cannot yet produce our own culture (which we shall strive towards), we should seek to act as a perceptual filter for the mass culture which surrounds us.

Counter Culture helps you win.

Excerpt from An Anthology of Counter Culture edited by Peter Harrington, Tim Bragg and Terry Burgoyne.

A Desire To Look

Sahar

Unfortunately I’m extremely busy at the moment so could not write an entire piece on this list of the the hottest Muslim women  in the world , but Muslima Media Watch  has written a good post on it so check it out.  I myself could not help but make a comment on the politics of this list.

I had no idea most of these women were Muslim–mainly because they do not stress this aspect of their identity so much;  to have them on this list was somewhat baffling. It was disturbing to note their inviting poses and their nudity.  I’m reminded of European colonialism’s insatiable desire to unveil the Muslim woman, due to its obsession with looking. The colonised world was an exhibition for the European gaze, and the native as a spectacle.  The veiled Muslim woman of this period frustrated Europeans because she violated their right to look and undermined their world of exhibition.  Moreover, she refused to be exposed, made vulnerable–her existence dissected by white eyes.  Importantly, she could look without being seen and this politicised her presence.

It was not a surprise then that the veiled Muslim woman became a focus of both the coloniser’s quest to unveil and thus dominate her (by extension the Muslim society to which she belonged to) –and a symbol of national resistance.  

The Europeans in turn demonized the veil– or in today’s context–the hijab.  They forced her to unveil, to show them what she was hiding. In revenge, they unveiled her in paintings where her body was laid bare for them to see. She was also photographed in the same way. These paintings and photographs were disseminated throughout Europe and evoked sexual imagery of a feminised Orient being penetrated by a lustful Europe.

The message was clear: The exotic woman of the Orient had given herself up for the white man. She would be saved from the brutality of her world which the veil became a metaphor for.

This list of Muslim women, with not one of them in hijab, exoticised and nude,  is a modern attempt to possess the Muslim woman. In fact, the article on the list of Muslim women ends with the reminder “And the good news is, you can look at them any time of day…”.  There is a sense of excitement in it because the Muslim woman is available for them to see, and there are no barriers (veil). Such an attempt is made even more apparent in that it is a supposed ‘celebration’ of the holy month of Ramadan for Muslims.  By exposing her to the Western gaze a similar message is being sent: the Muslim woman is under the control of Western capitalism. She has been unveiled and objectified,  and here lies the real attraction of such a list.

Burqas, Bans and Feeble Women

Farah

I was a bit reluctant to add my voice to the “Do we ban the burqa?” debate considering the excellent stuff that’s been written, including Sahar’s response and Shakira Hussein’s post at new site South Asian Masala. I’m also aware of the dangers of endless debate on the burqa – Islam and Muslims are lot more diverse than a single item of clothing. But the debate took on a distinct Australian tone when a number of Australian journalists voiced their opinions. Jill Singer (journalist at Herald Sun) put in her 2 cents – falling in favour of a ban. She writes that the burqa is “all such a load of male supremacist tosh… the burka sends all sorts of messages that are anathema to ideals of freedom and gender equality.” I then found this op-ed by Australian journalist Virginia Haussegger “Ban the unAustralian burka” she writes. The Australian National University then hosted a public debate featuring Haussegger, Julie Posetti, and Shakira Hussein – the latter two arguing against a ban.

A lot of writers (including Posetti and Hussein) against a ban point out that a number of women actively choose to wear the burqa or niqab. While the burqa has been used by groups to subjugate women, these writers highlight the need to identify the agency of these Muslim women, rather than denying them that agency which a ban would do. But Haussegger quickly dismisses this argument. She writes:

“I abhor the burka, and the niqab. I hate what it does to women … I am furious that some women will continue to choose to wear it. But then, throughout history, feeble women who are afraid of modernity, have always been complicit in their own oppression.”

Feeble women complicit in their own oppression? Gee Haussegger the respect you have for your fellow women really shines through your writing. She disregards the experience of the individual woman wearing the burqa; it is less important than what the burqa symbolises. She continues:

“The burka … and the niqab … [are] … tool[s] of patriarchy used to subjugate women. This shroud of cloth thrown over women defies freedom. It is a symbol of control. Wearing it signifies an acceptance of segregation of the sexes.”

My problem is that her argument it’s too simplistic; burqa = subjection and oppression, no burqa = freedom. And I don’t remember when stark dichotomies that replicated Orientalist assumptions actually helped anyone. When analysing a burqa it’s important to keep in mind that it’s a powerful, loaded symbol and operates within a broader discourse. In Mythologies Roland Barthes’s suggested that signs could be used as signifiers for other concepts; those concepts he identified as mythologies formed to perpetuate an idea of society. The myths are artificial constructions, adding a new layer of meaning over text and speech. He highlights that what we accept as being a natural, inductive relationship between the text and the myth is in fact an illusory reality constructed in order to mask the real structure of power.

In her approach Haussegger uses the burka as a loaded symbolic text for an idea – the oppression and subjugation of women. And like Barthes notes, to symbolize is to be. So, even if a garment does not literally restrict, if it signifies restriction then the garment restricts all those who wear it, freely chosen or not. But the myth of oppression constructed around the burqa deprives the burqa of substance; the burqa is distorted to suit the needs of the myth. Though it remains within the concept, it is “half-amputated … deprived of memory … [it is] speech wholly at the service of the concept. The concept, literally, deforms, but does not abolish the meaning … it alienates it.”

Another important point to acknowledge is that Haussegger assumes that all those oppressed Muslim will tear of their burqa’s and proclaim liberation were a ban in place. Unfortunately not many pro-ban writers acknowledge that forced removal of a vital part of a woman’s identity will see those women further retreat from the public into the home. We are all too aware of the “women need to be liberated” rhetoric adopted by the Bush regime in order to justify the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq. Well the Taliban are gone and the Afghan women are liberated – they no longer need to wear their burqas! And yet, Taliban or not the situation of women has barely improved – the majority of women (including Malalai Joya whom Hausseggar loves to cite as supporting her argument) continue to wear the burqa for security reasons. Similarly, at crikey Durkhanai Ayubi writes, “If a ban on the “unAustralian” burqah were to be accepted, women who choose to wear one will be further alienated from society.” It also reminds me of a post Faith wrote over at MMW regarding a Dutch anti-discrimination ad campaign. And as Hussein points out in the ANU public debate, you can’t force liberation onto women.

I’m not denying the use of the burqa to oppress and subjugate women. But to then deny that the burqa inhabits a number of uses and roles along with oppression is to deny the inherent dynamism of the burqa. Linking it to one myth and generalising that experience to the whole of Muslim women is patronising and smacks of neo-colonialism. As Nazish Brohi argues in her article “At the Altar of Subalternity: The Quest for Muslim Women in the War on Terror Pakistan after 9/11″, “this selective invocation is reducing spaces for women’s personal identity formation and its political articulation, and by coopting the very language of women’s rights and empowerment and investing in it political strategies, has rendered it ineffective.” And the lingering question remains: banning a garment, a single piece of clothing, doesn’t necessarily combat the ideology that is used when the burqa is forced onto women. A ban would be an empty, symbolic gesture perpetuating another myth and another power structure: Australia’s control over the Others in our midst, dictating that “we” know about democracy, Australian-ness and compassion while “they” do not.

During the debate Haussegger referred to French minister Fadela Amara and her organisation Ni putes ni soumises, “Neither Whores Nor Submissives”, arguing that Amara is a Muslim feminist who also supports the ban on the burqa. In a second post written after the public debate Haussegger also highlights Mona Eltahawy’s anti-burqa stance published at the New York Times. Sahar’s already responded to Eltahawy a couple of weeks ago, and it’s enough to note here that Amara’s organisation and her views have come under fire for supporting a racist, essentialised construction of women and Islam. What I wanted to highlight is the way in which Haussegger is using Amara and Eltahawy opinions as native informers. In her article “Should I Go and Pull Her Burqa Off? Feminist Compulsions, Insider Consent, and a Return to Kandahar” Usamah Ansari analyses the role of the native informer within the context of the documentary “Return to Kandahar”. She argues that women like Eltahawy and Amara are “Orientalized insider subject[s] who mediate the audience’s encounter with the Other… [they are] positioned within a supposedly traditional society and yet also exposed enough to modernity to speak to the audience.” Their voices are legitimised by Haussegger more so than Rabiah Hutchinson, an Australian Muslim convert who freely choses to wear the burqa but whose choice is dismissed by Haussegger because “not all choices are good choices.” Haussegger also states that Hutchinson has also made several bad choices in the past, so we can’t really rely on her as providing an alternative approach to the burqa. The inherent danger with relying on the views of Eltahawy and Amara is that it obscures the multitude of Muslim women who speak out in favour of a more dynamic construct of the burqa. Instead of relying on Eltahawy and Amara’s voices as being an ‘authentic’ view of how things should change ‘over there’, we must interrogate how their views relate to and contribute to the reductive approach to Islam and women’s experiences. And as Ansari concludes, “this interrogation helps challenge the essentialist notion that, by virtue of her insider status [their] testimony ‘‘rightly’’ provides a picture of how [the] community should be. Thus, by questioning the authentic insider we challenge the very foundations of consents to imperialism.”

The last op-ed I’d like to point you to is one by Australia’s biggest neo-con journalist – Andrew Bolt. I stopped reading the pseudo-journalism he churns out a long time ago but I find myself in the uneasy position of for once not thinking he’s a complete tosser. In his op-ed he notes, “I’d say I agreed the burqa was offensive, oppressive and divisive. I’d be very glad if it were removed from Australia, but I’d rather wage that battle with opinions than bans.” Andrew Bold not arguing in favour of a ban?? Admittedly, there are still shades of idiocy but for once he’s not acting like a COMPLETE tool. Maybe Haussegger (and the rest of the pro-ban writers) should take note of two things, firstly, read up on how to deconstruct semiological systems which perpetuate the creation of modern myths (rather than contribute to such systems) and secondly, if ANDREW BOLT doesn’t argue for a ban then maybe a ban is a lost cause.

The ‘enemy’ within: Muslims in France

Sahar

It seems France hasn’t had sufficient amount of negative attention. News has been buzzing on the latest debate over dress in the country. French President Nicolas Sarkozy has set up a commission to study the wearing of burqa in France—a long garment that covers the entire body including the face. According to Sarkozy, the burqa “deprived women of identity” and believes it is unacceptable to have women in France as “prisoners behind netting”.

Nor is Sarkozy alone in such sentiments. French feminists have been particularly vocal about the burqa and like Sarkozy see it as a symbol of subservience. According to Silhem Habchi from the women’s rights group ‘Ni Putes, Ni Soumises’ (Neither Whores Nor Subjected), it is a symbol of fascism and “the Talibanisation of religion.” More than 50 MPs from across the political spectrum have called for restrictions on wearing burqa which they describe as a “coffin”.

Yet the actual number of burqa and niqaab (with eye-slit) wearers in France is low. Muslim groups estimate that there are perhaps only a few hundred women fully covering themselves out of a Muslim population of over 5 million. Ironically, many of those who fully cover are converts.

Underneath the language of laicite and paternalism bares a history that only partly explains the fetishistic approach on the part of the state to maintain a particular French identity that is secular, European and homogeneous.

France’s past attests to a long struggle between the state and church which culminated in French laicite (secularism)—the strict division between the state and church. The 1905 law of secularity is enforced militantly but relevant to the current context, the law was founded on a homogeneous France that no longer exists today.

Since the 1970s, France has been growing in cultural diversity with the presence of cheap labour workers from its former colonies in the Maghreb. However, French attitude toward cultural diversity would suggest little has changed in the demographic makeup of the country. The state does not recognise minority rights and enforces a colonial-style assimilation model on its immigrants whereby they’re expected to assimilate into a French abstraction. Thus, religious and cultural rights are only approved in consideration of a particular French secularism and mainly relegated to the private. In the case of Islam, this has been hugely problematic considering the private and public aren’t divided as such in matters of religious practice.  The hijab has become symbolic of this contention.

An interesting debate occurred on Al Jazeera between director of Human Rights Watch in Paris Jean-Marie Fardeau, writer Anne Elizabeth Moutet and Saudi media personality in the Middle East, Muna Abdulsulayman. I’m in agreement with Abdulsulayman that the burqa isn’t obligatory in Islam and shouldn’t be defended as such, but I think she should have really stressed the right for a woman to choose to wear it. I’ve blogged about the burqa in France here and here  in note of this, however, I pointed out in my post that I do believe that a woman’s right to choose how to express her religion (her interpretation of what modesty is) or her culture as she sees fit is fundamental to her dignity and should be protected. So, it is a matter of choice—whether we agree with it or not is irrelevant.

My other main objection to the proposed ban of the burqa is within the context of the 2004 legislation which prohibits the wearing of “ostentatious religious symbols” in public schools and government offices. Though it was claimed it was not specifically targeting any religious group, it mainly affected the wearing of headscarves for young Muslim women. Like they have been with the burqa issue, French feminists were equally as vocal and supported the ban. Well known French feminists like Anne Vigerie, the leader of a feminist think tank and Elisabeth Badinter reinforced the media’s theme of associating the hijab with Islamic extremism, viewing the headscarf as ‘le drapeu sur la tete” (flag on the head) that confirms the underdeveloped status of women in radical Islam.

The ban too was justified with the claim it was to ‘protect’ women from religious misogyny. In actuality, these debates are emphatically demonstrating the state’s attempt to eradicate the presence of Islam in public.

In its attempt to justify the violation of basic religious and cultural freedoms, France has vehemently responded to criticism explaining that it is  for the state’s security. From what exactly? A type of dress worn by a ridiculously small minority of women? It’s interesting to note that at the time of the 2004 ban, the number of women wearing it was small in proportion to the total Muslim population. But in both cases the hysteria that the headscarf and burqa has whipped up would suggest that it is worn by millions striving to dominate French society.

French philosopher Alain Badiou writes that it is fear that drives such criticism of ‘foreign’ (Muslim) dress. The justification for protecting a secular identity is a front to undermine Islam in France, and this is closely tied with another part of France’s history:  the French conquest of Algeria in 1830. The country suffers from a pathological fear of a ‘Muslim threat’ born in the Algerian revolutionary struggle against French colonialism. The hijab in its haik form was used as a form of national assertion and a reclaiming of a Muslim and cultural identity. Thus, the same French mission to civilise Muslim women persists today. French Muslim women are being ‘unveiled’ as part of a contemporary French colonial mission civilisatrice, in order to ‘teach’ the Muslim Other the superiority of Western knowledge and culture.

Today,  the presence of the hijab in whatever form is one that offends. This is because it’s a symbol of the failure to ‘civilise’ the Algerian and by extension, Muslims. The burqa’s presence awakens a French fear and humiliation of the ‘loss’ of Algeria and the historical defeat to Islam. It is also symbolic of the irreducible difference and thus the unassimilability of Islam. Europeans –in this case French– identity is conveniently constructed to contrast with the other (Muslim) who do not belong in Europe. 

These fears are accentuated further in the post 911 context in which Islam and Muslims have become victims of a bogeyman mindset which has had  major implications on Muslims:  They are the ‘enemy within’–dehumanised to the point of irrelevance.

So the current burqa issue can only be understood in its proper context which recognises Europe’s history with the Muslim world, France’s colonisation of the Maghreb and the current 911 political climate where Islamophobia has permeated all levels of European society.

Women as symbols in Iranian protests

Sahar

I’ve been carefully watching the events unfolding in Iran in the aftermath of the elections in which Mahmoud Ahmedinejad was declared President of Iran.  Of course the debate on whether the elections were rigged or not has dominated the narrative but what’s been interesting is Western mainstream media have taken a special interest in covering this election but with a clear bias.  Western media have categorically taken the side of defeated candidate Mir Hussein Mousavi. We have been exposed to dramatic coverage of chaos in Iranian streets and many have gone as far to say that we’re witnessing another 1979 revolution style uprising. Of course anyone who is familiar with Iran and is history would realize the protests we’re witnessing today are miniscule to that of the protests of the late 1970s which led to a democratic theocracy led by Ayatollah Khomeini.  I have my doubts about the supposed rigging of the elections and the unpopularity of Ahmedinejad but it’s been fascinating to watch how the story is being told to the world through the lens of new media like Twitter, You Tube and Facebook.

The most dominant images flooding out of Iran have been of young Iranian women.  They seem to be at the forefront of the resistance. Many of these women are in fashionable attire wearing the most high fashion labels, beautiful and wearing loose hijab. This latter point may sound minor but in a country like Iran, the politics of the hijab has had powerful consequences.  Covering and uncovering has been infused with political messages since the Pahlavi period—revolving around binary constructions of ‘modernity’ and ‘tradition’. In his effort to ‘modernise’ Iran through European eyes, the Reza Shah banned the hijab in 1936; although the ban was uplifted, the hijab was perceived by the state and higher classes as a symbol of Iran’s backwardness, a hindrance for women’s rights and progress.

Almost hijabless yet oh so chic Mousavi supporter

Infusing the hijab with such political meaning has meant the very act of covering and uncovering is a political act. So it is not a surprise then that during the revolutionary period in which masses of Iranians protested against the Shah’s despotism, women of all classes donned the hijab (its black chador form) as an act of defiance against the monarchy and also in class solidarity. The visibility of the hijab has meant that both ‘modernisers’ and ‘religious orthodoxy’ have used it to validate their ideology. The current state’s endorsement of the black chador wearing women is considered by the current regime as the ‘ideal’ woman of the nation. Shahla Sherkat calls it the ‘official uniform’. According to Nima Naghibi resistance against the regime has continues through dress—whether it’s a different coloured hijab or revealing a fringe—the bad hijabi phenomenon.

The black chador wearing female supporter of Ahmedinejad.

The hijab’s history is coming to the fore as we witness the political consequences of women’s image. It is through women’s body where the politics of validation is played out.  Although it hasn’t been shown much in the media, there are young women on both sides of the political spectrum which interestingly show the ‘modern’ and ‘tradition’ dichotomy that’s always been a cause of contention in Iran– the chador-wearing Ahmedinejad supporter versus the Gucci wearing-dyed fringe-loose hijab wearing Mousavi supporter. Or so it seems.

The presence of Zahrad Rahvanard alongside her husband has greatly legitimized Mousavi’s position. She too is shown in a great deal in these images with her floral hijab, over a black layer—either a symbol of her compromising position or to show a sign of brightness –hope– underneath the blackness of the regime.

Coupled with such imagery, the video of Nega-Agha Soltan, a 26 year old Iranian woman who was killed in a street protest has become the symbol of Iranian women’s efforts to fight Islamic fundamentalism. Like the hijab, her death– captured in her bloody face that’s been disseminated around the world –has become the symbol of the regime’s misogyny and a justification for political dissent.

Mimi from Threadbared has written a brilliant analysis of the hijab in media coverage of the protests. She writes “the image of the Iranian woman in her loose headscarf is not a straightforward arrow from Islamic backwardness to liberal progress, but a nuanced and multi-dimensional map of political discourse and struggle”. Indeed, on the one hand it certainly will be interpreted as a yearning for liberal democracy by Westerners but as I argued in my thesis, the hijab’s meaning and power has been contingent upon political events in Iran and consequently has multiple dimensions and points of debate.

I also can’t help think that the overwhelming images of women in fashion attire, makeup and loose hijab has another dangerous implication: the wonderful potentials of opening Iran up further to consumer capitalist markets. The hijab, specifically the chador, is a hindrance to the exploitation of women’s bodies. Whereas, a loosening of the regime could mean unveiling the Iranian woman (and thus Iran) in which she becomes a more participatory member of global consumer culture.  Her body will become more accessible and susceptible to consumer trends—a return to the Shah’s Falangi dolls. Of course this process is guised under the rubric of emancipation.

Whatever the results of these protests, it is becoming abundantly clear that the strong presence of women on both sides alongside men on the streets and other political campaigning is indicative of the historical mobilisation of women (during the revolution and the Iran-Iraq war 1980-88)) and the significance of the ‘woman question’ is one that cannot be ignored.  Women’s active political participation is fiercely undermining the reductive perceptions many have of Iranian women who are often depicted as victims of Islamic theocracy and silenced by their hijab.  They are therefore complicating the Iranian woman and showing that her position is constantly shifting and being contested.

Beyond The Chador

Sahar

When I began writing my chapter for my thesis on Iran, I was immensely curious  of women’s situation  in  both pre-revolution Iran and post.  Images of chador-wearing women and angry protests on the streets of Tehran are how I visualised the Iranian revolution. Of course I was aware there was  more to it than that.  Though my focus was on the hijab, the hijab debate touched upon various issues affecting Iranian women and allowed me to explore women’s diverse experiences in the past century.  During what was called the ‘modernizing’ period of Iran, Iranian women became a centerpiece for Iranian modernizers (led by the Pahlavis) who saw her as the catalyst for change. Women were encouraged to wear Western dress, remove hijab, and mimic the Western woman. This strategy was employed because modernism had become synonymous with Westernism and Westernism with freedom.  Critics of the revolution have often compared this period to that of the post-revolution, in which they argue the Shah’s efforts to modernise Iran fostered the success of women’s rights and the public participation of women. The revolution, they claim, eroded these achievements. The chador is often deployed as a metaphoric description of the smothering of women’s achievements.  Western media has conveniently depicted the Iranian woman shrouded in a depressing dark chador– the symbol of Iran’s deprivation and women’s subjugation. Anything said in defense of the revolution, is immediately silenced by the ‘sinister’ presence of the chador.

However, after 30 years of the 1979 revolution, recent scholarship on Iranian women has shifted away from what I believe is a flawed dichotomy and looked at how women’s situation has changed dramatically in post-revolution Iran today.

One of such scholars is Janet Afary who will be visiting UCLA to talk about Sexual Politics in Modern Iran. Afary joins the voices of observers like Ziba Mir-Hosseini and Louise Halper who point out that there has been considerable improvement of Iranian women’s experiences since the revolution.

Little is said about the achievements  made by women in Iran.  The criticisms of the revolution are beginning to be unraveled.  Women’s role in the revolution politicized them in ways never seen before. The mass presence of Iranian women in the public streets of Tehran in the late 1970s was a break away from not only the Shah and SAVAK’s despotism and repression, but from the construction of the domesticated traditional Iranian woman.  The women who fought for the success of the revolution could not be told to get back in the kitchen. Ayatollah Khomeini himself was aware of this and encouraged women to join political organizations and encouraged their public participation. What must also be noted is during the 1980-88 Iran-Iraq war, while Iran’s millions of men fought against Saddam’s forces, it was Iranian women who ran the country. This added to the importance of women’s historical role in Iran.  It changed the ‘traditional’ view of the Iranian woman who had ‘earned’ the right to have a place in serving Iran in multiple ways that went beyond domestic contributions.  During this period Khomeini stated,

Islam urges women to strive and reach perfection which has no limits, nor does it stop at any point and therefore has granted them the right to serve society as a scholar, inventor, philosopher, teacher, physician, or even an active politician. (quoted by Eniz Sanasarian, 1990)

As pointed out by Afary, the Shah’s policies towards women lacked real benefits for women who did not belong to the elite class.  Life for women in rural and traditional sectors of society did not change dramatically. For instance, literacy rates remained quite low; by 1976 around thirty five percent of women were literate. Further, by the 1970s, the labour force showed only real improvement in the upper classes.   So it was women of the upper classes who identified more with the Western world than the majority of Iranian society who were the receivers of the ‘modernising’ reforms. Considering the impressive efforts to transform Iran, such trends seem low and exclusive, an indication of an unsuccessful program.

As I argued in my thesis, under the ‘Islamic’ government, there has been a more productive focus on gender in ways that the Pahlavi regime had failed to achieve because of its inability to engage with grass root voices.  Since the revolution, there have been interesting improvements in the political, economic and social role of women. In 2004, twenty percent of Iranian labour force was women, which has increased by twenty percent since 1980 and more class inclusive.  The literacy rate in Iran has risen to seventy percent for female adults, compared to under fifty percent in the 1970s. In 2006 reports show well over half of Iranian university students were women. A third of all doctors, 60% of civil servants and 80% of all teachers are women. (see Zahedi, 2007 and Halper, 2005).

Those figures don’t exactly fit in with the negative impression Western media gives us of Iranian women.

Armed with the understanding that comes with higher education, contributing to the economy and a history of being part of the revolution, women have driven a reformist discourse in order to influence the state’s interpretation of Islamic gender roles. For example, Maryam Gorji, a representative in the Islamic Parliament is engaged in writing a woman-centered (re)interpretation of women’s images in the Qur’an. Women like Gorji now seek what they call ‘gender fairness’ in the new state.  The achievements of women like Zahra Rahnavard, who has a Ph.D in political science and became the first women to hold the position of university chancellor in post-revolution Iran demonstrates the kind of success that women are achieving in Iran.

This is not to say there haven’t been disadvantages for women in post-revolution Iran.  However, my point is in line with Afary, who sees the importance in shedding light on some positive effects of the revolution. To suggest that the revolution has brought on nothing but catastrophic consequences for women is misleading and dangerous. Such a simplistic analysis contributes to not only the demonisation of Iran, but reinforces the orientalist stereotypes of Muslim women lacking agency against the brute force of Islam’s supposed misogyny.

In reality, Iranian women from all classes have been politicized. Women’s mass contribution in Iranian society in the past two decades has legitimized their role in the future of Iran.  They have founded their own organizations, study groups; associations and publications. They have marked their own space in politics and contribute to the country in ways that women under the Pahlavi regime could not possibly have done so. This is because the Shah’s policies  openly called for a westernisation of Iran and discredited.

So contrary to how they are perceived in mainstream media and even academic scholarship, Iranian women are far from the silent victims of a religious establishment.