Hijab: A fashion accessory?
I wore hijab for 23 years. Now, Gustavo is referring to it as a fashion accessory.
I can remember my hijab serving many purposes, but fashion accessory isn’t one of them.
(Of course, my experience isn’t necessarily shared by others. I’m not suggesting that it is. But, I don’t think that deriding the wearing of hijab as a "fashion accessory" really illuminates its functions in the North American Muslim communities that I have lived in.)
Coming into Islam, we were informed that hijab is an obligation for every believing woman. We were often puzzled to see women who were undeniably Muslim, but didn’t wear hijab. Explanations (from Muslim men, usually) that such women "didn’t understand Islam properly" or were too vain to cover their hair didn’t really convince me.
But, when I converted (in the early 80’s), I encountered two types of women in the Muslim community: the culturally grounded immigrant types (who rarely wore hijab), and those who had been influenced by transnational Islamist movements (who often did). The culturally grounded types didn’t really welcome converts; as far as they were concerned, we were inferior beings who needed civilizing—we needed to learn how to cook "properly " (meaning, to cook Arab or Pakistani food), to act "properly" (meaning, like Arab or Pakistani women), to speak "properly" (meaning, to speak colloquial Arabic or Urdu).... And even after undergoing such a civilizing process, we would never be regarded as more than wannabees or eccentric curiosities. But the transnational Islamist types did hold out the prospect of eventual acceptance, regardless of our skin colour or fondness for cooking macaroni, if we would wear proper hijab and conduct ourselves according to their understanding of the Quran and Sunna. Another type of civilizing mission, of course, but one that we thought we might have a fighting chance at succeeding in.
For Islamists, "Western women" were supposedly the embodiment of most of what is wrong with "western civilization" today: immorality, materialism, heedlessness of tradition and of God. Our hijab became a way that we tried to overcome the stain of having been born in the wrong place at the wrong time to the wrong parents.
There was another thing: as Muslim women, we didn’t have much of a role in the public form of religious practice (at least, those of us who were Sunni—Shi’i sisters often seemed to have it a lot better). We weren’t encouraged to come to the mosque; there was hardly room for us in the cramped, hot women’s section even if we did come; learning opportunities were few and far between for sisters; at conferences (which I couldn’t usually afford to attend anyhow), segregation was strict, and the programmes weren’t always in English. It was made pretty clear to us that being a committed Muslim woman meant essentially getting married, having kids as soon as possible, and being a good wife and mother; you had access to community life primarily through your family relationships (tough luck for those of us not born into Muslim families). Wearing scarves in public gave us the feeling of being part of a community—we could see other Muslim women, say salaam to them, think of ourselves as belonging to something bigger than ourselves. And, wearing hijab was an absolute must for admission to conferences or being able to take part in study circles.
So much water has gone under the bridge since then. In the 90’s, we had the rise of young, articulate Muslim women who argued that hijab is supposed to prevent women from being seen as sex objects. Some of these women were white converts, who were apparently happy to be used as a weapon against nonhijab-wearing sisters. We also saw draconian measures in Afghanistan and elsewhere against women who refused to cover, and the media coverage wasn’t such that we could easily ignore it. Wearing hijab became—for me, at any rate—a real ethical dilemma.
Did I want to be perceived as giving a vote of confidence to idiotic ideas which claim that hijab can somehow protect women from sexual harrassment (which implies that the onus is on women to prevent it—overlooking the power dynamics involved)? How about the link between hijab and other forms of segregation and discrimination in the Muslim community—women forced to enter the mosque from separate doors, praying at the back or in the basement, limiting women’s access to teaching circles, silencing women’s voices in the mosques—all in the name of "modesty"? How to take seriously the view that hijab is necessary to prevent temptation (and the implication that the only type of sexuality that exists is heterosexual), when this neither reflects my own experience, nor do I want to be a part of efforts to erase sexual diversity in my community? And, knowing that Islamists point to the growing number of western women who wear hijab as a way of browbeating other Muslim women into doing so, could I continue to wear it?
Now, it is in some practical ways easier to wear hijab than ever before. We used to have to design our own patterns and sew our own hijabs; occasionally, some enterprising people who had gone for hajj would bring back a few scarves and sell them at inflated prices, and we’d shell out for them if we could afford it. Now, you can buy it all online, and sometimes fairly inexpensively, if you don’t happen to live in an area with Muslim stores that sell that sort of thing. Looking at the Shukr page, one could easily argue that hijab is now a fashion accessory.
But for me, no matter how much hijab may resemble a fashion accessory in some ways, it is fundamentally about much more weighty things: identity construction, racism and ethnocentrism, battles over gender roles, homophobia, violence against women, access to space and power. In my view, it’s these issues which should concern us in discussions over whether or not converts (or anyone else) should wear headscarves. Simply quoting quranic verses (pro or con), or posting pictures of how some Iranian women dress doesn’t go much distance to addressing such underlying ethical issues.

Comments
Indeed, the underlying
Indeed, the underlying fervor pro and con hijab is far more about those underlying issues — identity construction, gender roles, power struggles between genders and ethnicities and interpretations as well as access to power within the community, conformity and group loyalty and political affiliation than it is about modesty or halal and haram. We dance around the elephant, trying to cover it with scraps of silk and cotton, when we really need to be discussing these bigger issues and how piece of cloth has come to mean far more than a personal choice about apparel.
Can one wear hijab without promoting a certain type of thought, or does one’s wearing it automatically support certain attitudes and positions? Or does the simple fact that you are wearing it imply that others should, and that they should subscribe to the points of views typically associated with hijabis? Can you choose it as an individual source of empowerment (I don’t think it protects you from anything, but it certainly can be an unequivocal, proactive statement of "don’t even think about it" to American guys which I personally found to be very empowering.) without inadvertently sending message about women as second class citizens?
No wonder hijab has become such a hot topic when it stands for so much more than we give it credit for.
Pamela, now you know what
Pamela, now you know what black women go through over our hair, let alone what may or may not be covering it.
Dress and adornment, even beyond hijab, send strong messages, and are so linked to issues of class, group identity, gender roles, and all the other issues that indicate one’s current place in society, and one’s past and/or aspirations.
We’ve been through this issue, over an even smaller piece of cloth- neckties. Because they are worn primarily by men, however, issues of some men’s desire to control women did not arise. But issues of class and identity did.
I’ve given up, for the most part, about trying to send the "right" message through my clothing; I have no idea what a wardrobe with that message would look like. I wear clothes that are modest (to please God, and not embarrass myself), comfortable, and I hope, flattering (God loves beauty, remember that). Folk have probably decided, upon looking at me, that I’m anything from an extremist looking to send them to Hell, to a tart who is immodest enough to show her face, and wear colors like pink. I can’t really worry about that- it would require too much therapy, and far too many costume changes, and the Fashion Jihad’s goal is to get rid of the need to have a therapist in order to get dressed.
Hair isn’t an issue. I
Hair isn’t an issue. I don’t think so. Covered hair is never an issue. My hair is not an issue. Guess what is? How I tie my Hijab, and whether or not it covers sufficiently. Those are the issues. Do you do the African style wrap, or do you do the Persian (my hair is almost covered) scarf, or the Arab (full head and neck and ears)? Depending on how you wrap is how you’ll be accepted.
I wear pink too, why not? Pink is a color created by God and its nothing whorish about it, or immodest, unless you decided for yourself that pink is not your color, then, I understand. I wear all colors, black happens to be my favorite base but I put splashes of color on everything broad bright reds, and greens, and pastels. I think women should always try and look their best, and not conform to the cultural ideals of other people. I know even Christians and Orthodox Jewish women do not wear make-up, but I say make-up is okay as long as its tasteful.
Perfume anyone? Yeah, I wear a scent to. Oh yes, women who wear perfume cause men to committ adultrey. This is what I was told. Of course I continued to wear my perfume and to date no man has tripped across the division to ask me to marry him with his wife and my husband standing there with shock on their faces.
Forgive extremists, and forgive those who misinterpret and enjoy the Lord, Allah.
Its sunny today
Lailah, hair is not an
Lailah, hair is not an issue for you, but you are not every woman. I’ve had people take issues with my hairstyle, despite the fact that it is completely covered in public. Black women often have to cope with this, covered or no. I have also run into issues over how I cover- DH wants me to wear scarves in Caribbean styles, whereas I do Arab style coverage- it goes with my current wardrobe, and I don’t need to hunt for scarves suited to African or Caribbean styles, and find someone to teach me how to wrap my hair in that fashion. Arab styles are just easier to keep up with, for me.
I was replying to Pamela’s comment about private choice vs. public perception. If you ignore that, you’ll have a much easier life, but I did want to engage Pamela on this important issue.
Salam … I just joined
Salam …
I just joined the list and it looks like there is a lot of great discussion. I came to Islam in 1975 in San Francisco. We never saw anybody wearing hijab in those days on the street and we only wore a head covering in the mosque. It seems fascinating that this has become such a central element in contemporary Islam. I have watched over these last 33 years as hijab has appeared more and more and its place has become so hotly debated on all sides. Truly fascinating. And hot is indeed the optimal word. In fact, in an article I wrote detailing my observations on the rise of hijab in Muslim society in the west, and particularly among converts (reverts is a strange new word that I would also like to know the history of.) I called the hijab the "burning bra" of this century and it certainly carries many of the same passions, pro and con, as that other archetypally female garment.
Cheers ….
Karen
I just wrote a similar (but
I just wrote a similar (but not as deep at all) post; http://www.progressiveislam.org/exploring_hijab
I think the sense of community point is really a strong pull for me. I am interested in exploring that. One funny thing is that in Egypt, where almost everyone has it on, you don’t have that special bond.
may peace reach us all
I think about this alot and
I think about this alot and I go from Hijab days to none Hijab days, but always a scarf around my shoulders. I feel that its important to indentify oneselve with what one believes in. Yet it is difficult when there is so much negativity even among Hijab wearers. I know that when I do the Pakistani/Persian version, full Hijab wearers won’t salaam me, they sort of roll their eyes. But It’s especially important I think for muslim women. When I see other muslimahs in hijab, whether or not I am wearing it, I feel like saying, “right on sister!” But then I also know that its probaby cultural and the person isn’t thinking of it as a religio-political statement. I think its come to symbolize something very sweet and sincere to women from none muslim countries. It is like a flag of belonging and a mark of love. Its a sad thing that no matter the hijab women don’t speak to each other at all. I wore hijab for a full year, and found that even at work people were very positive to me, however there were some older “whites” who saw me as a threat and made trouble for me. Basically if you are in a government job you are protected from problems of discrimination, if you work for a private firm you will likely have less support.
The organizations in place, (collecting government grant money) to so call protect our rights as muslims, I won’t mention the name here.
Doesn’t do a thing except keep stats and pats on the back over the phone. But I digressed. I like Hijab and I like that it means so many things I am in prayer, I am thinking of prayer, I am modest, I stand for modesty, I love my religion so many things…........