
Those who support the French State 's decision to ban hijab from its  schools argue that the law is a necessary step to protect young Muslim  girls, as French citizens, from fundamentalist pressure to wear hijab.  Such a law, thus, penalizes innocent girls who wish to cover in order to  protect those who do not wish to cover. The French see hijab as more  than just a piece of cloth. 
The girls who wear it are not innocent; they are, in fact, seen as signs  of a cancer in the French body politic - "Islamic fundamentalism". That  the French see the hijab in this way is due to an old and resilient  Orientalist stereotype of the hijab as a symbol of Muslim women's  oppression. This idea was introduced into Western discourse in the early  eighteenth century and was given "teeth" during the colonial era.  During the British and French occupations of the Middle East , the  colonialists went to great lengths to unveil Muslim women.
The Europeans' campaigns against the veil were eventually successful, as  a new generation of Muslims internalized the Western colonial view of  the veil as a symbol of backwardness. A society that wished to modernize  had to follow the secular, Western path or else be condemned to the  backwater of history. In 1936, the Shah of Iran initiated a policy of  forced unveiling of women, decreeing that they wear Western women's  dress. Taxi drivers could be fined if they accepted veiled passengers;  policemen would pull scarves off women's heads in the streets and were  actually instructed to shred a woman's veil with scissors if she was  caught wearing it in public. (This is the secular equivalent of the  "religious police" in Iran , Saudi Arabia and Taliban Afghanistan , who  enforce the wearing of hijab. The French State 's decision to ban hijab  in its schools, while not being enforced with police violence, is  nevertheless part of the same phenomenon of state coercion in the name  of modernity.) 
By the 1960s, the colonial and Muslim modernizing elites' attacks on the  veil had been largely successful. Only rural, peasant or lower-class  urban women continued to cover. The urban, modern woman who wanted to  "get ahead" did not cover and scorned those who did as illiterate,  backward peasants. Thus, the movement for re-veiling, which has swept  the Muslim world since the early 1970s, has surprised many observers.  Social science research into the phenomena has revealed that the  "re-veiling movement", as it is called (though it is not really  re-veiling, since most of the women are adopting hijab for the first  time), is a women-driven movement. That is, contrary to media reports  and the opinions of intellectuals who aim to foster fear of and hatred  towards Muslims, the re-veiling movement is not the result of  fundamentalist violence or coercion, but the result of women choosing to  cover. 
Academic research has, also, highlighted the fact that the motivations  and meanings behind covering are extremely diverse; though the women may  look similar in their dress, they are not thinking similarly, nor  experiencing hijab similarly. This is an important point to make because  those who would claim that the hijab is a sign of oppression ignore the  multiple sociological meanings that hijab carries. According to some  analysts, the first impetus of the re-veiling movement was the 1967 Arab  defeat by Israel . This event made many Muslims reconsider the paths of  Westernization and modernization that their countries were pursuing.  Many felt that their heritage and religion had been sidelined in the  process, and they turned to Islam for solace during those difficult  times. Many women adopted hijab as a part of this new mental state.  (Many men grew beards and began wearing the traditional jalabiyya.) It  is important to note that the style of hijab adopted by these women was  new and quite different from traditional forms of covering worn by their  ancestors. 
Instead of a large piece of material wrapped around the body and, often,  a face veil, these women adopted long coats and head-scarves pinned  under the chin. For these women, the hijab was a combination of piety  and political protest. One Egyptian woman told Williams , during his  1978 study into why Egyptian women embraced the veil, "Until 1967, I  accepted the way our country was going. I thought Gamal Abd al-Nasser  would lead us all to progress. Then, the war showed that we had been  lied to; nothing was the way it had been represented. I started to  question everything we were told. I wanted to do something and to find  my own way. I prayed more and more, and I tried to see what was expected  of me as a Muslim woman. Then, I put on shar'i dress…" Hessini found  similar sentiments of political protest in her 1989 study of urban and  professional Moroccan women who had adopted hijab. One woman, Hadija,  stated, "the hijab is a way for me to retreat from a world that has  disappointed me. It's my own little sanctuary."
Some women felt that, in adopting this dress, they were proactively  working to improve their societies and promoting social justice. Nadia  told Hessini, "My religion saved me. In a world where there is no  justice, I now believe in something that is just. I now have something I  can count on." Many women, however, have prioritized religious belief  as the main motivation behind their decision to cover. Their adopting  the new style of hijab is meant to express their adherence to "true  Islam." Sou'al told Hessini, "My mother has always worn the veil, but  she knows nothing about Islam. She wore the veil out of tradition,  whereas I wear it out of conviction." My own research amongst Toronto  Muslim women in 1994, also, found similar motivations. Yasmeen, an  immigrant to Canada from the Middle East , who is in her early thirties,  told me, "I feel in peace [wearing hijab], and ah…I feel I respect  myself more. I am not concentrated about my beauty and ah… the fashion  and this stuff ah...I think it's a peace of mind…I feel comfortable  because this is what God want from the human being, ah…I am obeying."
But the hijab carries a multitude of meanings. Researchers in Egypt ,  for instance, have found that not all those who adopt hijab do so out of  religious sentiments. Many of these women do not pray regularly, nor do  they discuss hijab as a religious form of dress. Rather, they have  found in hijab an empowering dress that facilitates their access to  education and work. Often coming from urban lower class families and  being the first woman in the family to achieve formal education, hijab  has, for them, served the purpose of declaring their modesty to a  conservative milieu, in spite of the fact that they are outside the  family home for extended periods a day. They also find economic  advantages of hijab; by wearing hijab, they do not have to spend huge  amounts of money on work clothing. Sommayya told Hoodfar (1991) that she  was having trouble with her fiancé and his family who did not want her  to work after marriage; she solved the problem by wearing hijab; "if I  have only two sets of clothes, I can look smart at all times because  nobody expects muhaggabat (the veiled ones) to wear new clothes every  day. This will save me a lot of money. It will, also, prevent people  from talking about me or questioning my honor or my husband's. In this  way, I have solved all the problems, and my husband's family is very  happy that he is marrying a muhaggabat."
Muslim women in the West find other compelling reasons to wear hijab,  one of which is to assert their Muslim identity publicly and with pride,  something which is especially important to them as citizens of Western,  multicultural, multi-ethnic and multi-religious polities. Nadia, a  second generation British Asian woman, who began to cover when she was  sixteen, told Watson (1994), "My cultural background and my family's  roots are in another part of the world. These things are very important  to me and make me feel special. It is important to me not to lose these  parts of my life. My decision to wear the veil also ties into my feeling  of coming from this different kind of background. We are a British  family but because of Islam and our links with Pakistan we have  different values and traditions from the families of my non- Muslim  friends…[So] wearing the veil makes me feel special, it's a kind of  badge of identity and a sign that my religion is important to me."
Even in Saudi Arabia , where there is no obvious choice about veiling,  some women feel they are wearing hijab as a symbol of identity and  pride. As a 35 year old teacher, married with two children and holding a  BA in education from the United States , told AlMunajjed (1997), "'Yes,  I wear the veil out of conviction'.  'On what do you base your  conviction?' [AlMunajjed] asked. 'I am attached to my traditions.  Wearing a veil is part of one's identity of being a Saudi woman. It is a  definite proof of one's identification with the norms and values of the  Saudi culture.'"
Thus, sociologically, the hijab carries many meanings, and it is wrong  for the West to argue that the hijab is a symbol of male domination over  women or a sign of fundamentalist threat or coercion. I say "wrong"  purposefully, even though empirically it may sometimes be true. There  are Muslim women who are forced to cover against their will, either due  to state policy, Islamist violence or family coercion. I condemn  coercion and violence perpetrated against Muslim women by those who seek  to impose hijab. However, just because there are some women who  experience hijab in this unfortunately negative way, it does not turn  the hijab into a symbol of coercion. To be a symbol, the thing being  represented must have a constant meaning. Quite simply, hijab signifies a  variety of things, depending on the historical and social context. We  have seen a wide range of meanings that arise out of the contemporary  Muslim women's re-veiling movement.
There are other meanings too. Prior to the European intervention into  the Middle East , the face veil was a symbol of wealth and status. In  the 1950s during the Algerian war of Independence , secularized, urban  women don ned headscarves to show their support of the war; the hijab  was a symbol of resistance to French colonial rule. In the 1979 Iranian  Revolution a similar process took place, with secular women joining  religious women to wear chador as a sign that they supported the  movement against the Shah. These women grew up not covering, but the  chador became a symbol of the anti-Shah revolution.
Thus, hijab expresses many meanings, and commentators should be wary of  attempting to impose one single meaning on it. In addition, the West  should take notice that many Muslim women wear hijab with pride,  conviction and happiness. I do not mean to downplay the tragedy of a  Muslim woman who is forced to wear hijab out of coercion, but the  prevalent image of the veil in the West, as a symbol of oppression,  ignores the real expression women find in hijab. Furthermore, this is  not simply an academic matter because public policy is being founded on  the misconception of hijab as a symbol of oppression; state policies are  being made to 'save' the Muslim women. The French decision to ban the  veil is based on this kind of logic. It is a dangerous precedent because  it will encourage and inflame both Islamophobia in the West and  extremism in the Muslim world. The only reasonable way forward is for  people to understand the multiple and positive meanings of hijab; allow  people to freely practice their religious convictions; and to work  together to eradicate coercion and violence in ways that do not  denigrate religious convictions.
Hijab and My Story
In 1991 I saw a news report on the television that showed Turkish women  who were returning to the veil. I felt shocked and saddened for them.  "Poor things," I thought, “they are being brainwashed by their culture."  Like many Westerners, I believed that Islam oppressed women and that  the veil was a symbol of their oppression. Imagine my surprise then,  four years later, at seeing my own reflection in a store window, dressed  exactly like those oppressed women. I had embarked on a spiritual  journey during my Master's degree that culminated four years later in my  conversion to Islam. The journey included moving from hatred of Islam,  to respect, to interest, to acceptance. Naturally, being a woman, the  issue of the veil was central. Despite my attraction to the theological  foundations of Islam, I was deeply troubled by what I believed to be  practices oppressive to women. I felt that the veil was a cultural  tradition that Muslim women could surely work to eliminate. I was shown  the verses in the Qur'an that, many Muslims believe, enjoin covering on  men and women, and it seemed quite clear to me then that, indeed, the  verses did impose covering. I wandered home, feeling quite depressed and  sorry for Muslim women. If the verses were clear, they had no recourse:  covering would be required for a believing Muslim woman. I had to put  these issues aside in order to decide whether or not to accept Islam.  What counted, in the final analysis, was the fundamental theological  message of the religion- - that there is a single God, and that Muhammad  (SAAS) was His Last Servant and Messenger. After several years of  study, I had no doubt about that …..if only it were not for the issue of  women and Islam. When I finally made my decision to convert, now one  and a half years into my doctorate (July 1994), I decided that whether I  liked it or not, I should cover. It was a commandment, and I would  obey. I warned some people in my department that I had become a Muslim,  and that the next time they saw me I would be covered.
Needless to say, people were quite shocked, and as word spread (and as  people saw me in my new dress), I found myself subject to some hostile  treatment. How could I have embraced an oppressive practice, especially  when I was known as a strong and committed feminist? How could I embrace  Islam? Had I not heard what Hamas had just done? Had I not heard what  some Muslim men had just done to a woman? I was not quite prepared for  this hostility, nor was I prepared for the different way I was being  treated by secretaries, bureaucrats, medical personnel, or general  strangers on the subway. I felt the same, but I was often being treated  with contempt. I was not treated as I had been as a white, middle-class  woman. It was my first personal experience of discrimination and racism,  and made me see my previous privileged position in a way that I had  never before properly understood.
Written By :
Dr. Katherine Bullock is the editor of American Journal of Islamic  Social Sciences and author of “Rethinking Muslim Women and the Veil” (  London : IIIT, 2002).
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