How the Veil Protects Society from Sexual and Financial Exploitation
May 20, 2011| Thursday, 19 May 2011 13:36 |
NICOLAS Sarkozy’s campaign to ban the Muslim face veil and other religious garments to feather the bed for his bid to be reelected to France’s highest political office has been deemed among high ranking members of the French political system as hypocritical to the country’s long held position of religious tolerance. He claimed that Muslim women who wear such garments are too ‘ostentatious’ and ‘provocative’ which he claims undermines French nationalism.
The transparency of Sarkozy’s rhetoric although seen as an obvious ploy among rival political factions to garnish support from the country’s growing anti-immigrant movement, his opponents were unsuccessful in mounting a defense against it. Though internationally condemned as racist (even Obama had to show a little grit and come out in principle against it), Sarkozy continues to defend his position by calling the veil blatant subjugation of women by Muslim men.
Well Sarkozy got his way – the veil, the niqab, was banned.
I followed this saga with interest. I was surprised that a country with 10 million Muslims managed to lay down for the old back door without too much fuss—particularly in France, the birthplace of democracy and where the term ‘feminist’ was coined. I suppose everybody’s got a plan.
Women in the West have only had rights for a 100 years thanks to the advocacy of feminism. Muslim women have been able to vote, own land and run their own businesses for about a little over 1400 years.
Before you can understand the full irony of the situation, I must explain how I came to know about Feminism. Let me start with a little tale called Becky’s Slap.
* * * * * * *
Becky’s Slap
Being an adolescent in the 1960’s and 70’s was a pretty exciting experience in the United States. America was going through ideological growing pains: redefining and re-assessing its values in its social and political arenas. Everyone was talking about drugs, concerts and liberation.
I was about 15 amidst all of this when I met my first feminist—a perky white girl name Becky, a college student who volunteered to work in ghetto (today known as the ‘hood’). She had big blue eyes, long brown hair and wore ‘daisy dukes’. She smelled like honeysuckles. Being at the height of discovering what a man was, my raging hormones and me welcomed her unsolicited conversation with intense attention.
“Leroy,” she said, “do you know what sexism is?”
Not knowing what it meant, I was hopeful it was close to what I thought it was. Before I could share those thoughts, she continued.
“It is the exploitation of women by men,” Becky said as serious as her Minnie mouse like voice would allow. ‘Exploitation’ was also a new word to me and seemed reminiscent of ’expose,’ a word my little ghetto mind did recognize. She reached in her blue jean satchel and pulled out some fashion magazines. During those days, they were thick like dictionaries due to the ads.
“Look at this!” she commanded me, flipping the pages. She was starting to sound a little ticked off. “These women are being used and are brainwashing other women to believe in their own inferiority,” she declared. Read the rest of this entry »
My Way Back to Hijab
August 27, 2010Some things are, like they say, one step forward and two steps back. But, as guest writer Bisma shares, with pure intentions and persistence, and help from Allah ta’ala, it’s possible to come out ahead.
My hijab story is like a secret diary no one should ever read. It is filled with horrible facts about me and points to my mistakes and weaknesses. My journey to hijab is filled with fear, negativity and regret. So I warn you: read with caution.
The most important thing you should know is that I used to wear hijab, but eventually took it off. I hate saying it, admitting to the world that I was one of those ignorant girls who went backwards after putting on the hijab, instead of moving forward with my deen. But it’s what I did and I can’t change that.
I first put on the hijab due to an extreme iman rush after an Islamic conference and pressure I felt from my community members, because, masha’Allah, almost all the girls I knew already wore hijab and were so religious. I always felt like an outcast not wearing it, so I decided to just do it.
After putting on the scarf, however, I was extremely self-cautious. I would feel fine wearing it when I was around my religious friends; but, when I was with other “normal” people, I was ashamed. I tried to cover while still blending in: wearing hoods and hats to cover my hair, instead of proper hijab. I didn’t understand that “hijab” was true modesty, not only in dress, but in actions as well. I treated the hijab simply as a cloth on my head.
During that period, I regretted the day I decided to wear the hijab and every bone in my body screamed at me to take it off, but I was afraid of what people would think of me. So I continued my self-loathing and wore the scarf. I felt horrible because I knew I wasn’t getting reward from Allah ta’ala. After all, I only kept on my hijab from fear of people’s judgment, rather than fulfilling the command of my Lord.
The regret continued and became stronger each day. I woke up miserable, knowing I had to put on my hijab. I hated going out, especially with my husband, because I felt that every other girl looked beautiful to him except me. His consolation only made it worse. I didn’t believe him when he said I looked beautiful, because I felt ugly, inside and out. I was always irritated and fighting with everyone around me. Read the rest of this entry »
WHY ARE WOMEN CHOOSING TO WEAR THE NIQAB (FACE COVER)?
August 25, 2010?
by Niqab: The Face Veil on Tuesday, August 24, 2010 at 10:25am
Why are women choosing to wear the niqab?
Increasing numbers of British Muslim women are choosing to wear the face veil. Two of those women explain to Newsnight why they adopted the niqab when their mothers did not.
Rumaysa, aged 27
(To take the niqab off would be stripping me of my identity as a woman and stripping me of my beliefs – and for me personally, I am nothing without my beliefs)
I started wearing the niqab about eight years ago and I started wearing it in the first year of university – and my decision to wear it was to help me in my religion as an act of worship. It helps me and protects me. I feel [it] empowers me, and it helps me to realise and get closer to achieving my aim, which is to please my creator.
It empowers me because when I talk I believe I have a voice, I have an opinion, I’m my own person – my own personality comes across, and when people talk to me, they don’t… think ‘she’s looking like this, she’s looking like that,’ so my voice comes across and people are judging me for who I am, rather than what I look like.
Why did the earlier generations like our parents, their parents, when they came here, why did they not wear the niqab? Their purpose was to earn a better livelihood, make money and give a better life to their children. Their aim was to come here, work, fit in with the society. And we are saying hang on, we are born here, we are part of the society. I see myself as British.
Twenty years ago, fair enough, the niqab would have been virtually non-existent. You’ve got to bear in mind it’s their choice to wear it, and as a democratic country, can we really dictate to people how they should dress?
I get mixed reactions from people. There are people who are understanding, who are educated, and if they approach you and they really want to understand why you wear the niqab and you explain it to them, they are absolutely fine with it. They understand that a face is not an essential component of communication.
And you get other people who, no matter what, they are ignorant or they are just plain racist and do not want to understand. Why should I compromise my religious beliefs to please other people, when it’s not harming them in any way whatsoever?
Of course it upsets me that this intolerance is going on, but it doesn’t make me think I want to take it off, because then I’m not being true to myself. To take the niqab off would be stripping me of my identity as a woman and stripping me of my beliefs – and for me personally, I am nothing without my beliefs.
I believe I integrate fully into British society. I go to work and the people I work with – the majority of them are non-Muslims – and they’ve been absolutely fine with me, I’ve been fine with them. They haven’t had a problem in terms of me communicating. They’ve never seen the niqab as a barrier, and they see me for who I am and they see beyond the niqab.
Source:- http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/8929055.stm
CHOOSING TO WEAR THE SCARF
May 30, 2010BELOW IS A CUTE STORY OF A YOUNG GIRL WHO CHOSE TO WEAR THE SCARF OR HIJAB AS IT IS CALLED IN ARABIC. MANY TIMES PEOPLE FEEL THAT WE ARE FORCED INTO WEARING THE SCARF YET THE MAJORITY ARE CHOOSING TO WEAR IT. PLEASE READ THIS CUTE STORY WHICH WAS POSTED ON OPRAH.COM
Nine years ago, I danced my newborn daughter around my North Carolina living room to the music of Free to Be…You and Me, the ’70s children’s classic whose every lyric about tolerance and gender equality I had memorized as a girl growing up in California. My Libyan-born husband, Ismail, sat with her for hours on our screened porch, swaying back and forth on a creaky metal rocker and singing old Arabic folk songs, and took her to a Muslim sheikh who chanted a prayer for long life into her tiny, velvety ear. She had espresso eyes and lush black lashes like her father’s, and her milky-brown skin darkened quickly in the summer sun. We named her Aliya, which means “exalted” in Arabic, and agreed we would raise her to choose what she identified with most from our dramatically different backgrounds.
I secretly felt smug about this agreement—confident that she would favor my comfortable American lifestyle over his modest Muslim upbringing. Ismail’s parents live in a squat stone house down a winding dirt alley outside Tripoli. Its walls are bare except for passages from the Qur’an engraved onto wood, its floors empty but for thin cushions that double as bedding at night. My parents live in a sprawling home in Santa Fe with a three-car garage, hundreds of channels on the flat-screen TV, organic food in the refrigerator, and a closetful of toys for the grandchildren. I imagined Aliya embracing shopping trips to Whole Foods and the stack of presents under the Christmas tree, while still fully appreciating the melodic sound of Arabic, the honey-soaked baklava Ismail makes from scratch, the intricate henna tattoos her aunt drew on her feet when we visited Libya. Not once did I imagine her falling for the head covering worn by Muslim girls as an expression of modesty.
Last summer we were celebrating the end of Ramadan with our Muslim community at a festival in the parking lot behind our local mosque. Children bounced in inflatable fun houses while their parents sat beneath a plastic tarp nearby, shooing flies from plates of curried chicken, golden rice, and baklava.
Aliya and I wandered past rows of vendors selling prayer mats, henna tattoos, and Muslim clothing. When we reached a table displaying head coverings, Aliya turned to me and pleaded, “Please, Mom—can I have one?”
She riffled through neatly folded stacks of headscarves while the vendor, an African-American woman shrouded in black, beamed at her. I had recently seen Aliya cast admiring glances at Muslim girls her age. I quietly pitied them, covered in floor-length skirts and long sleeves on even the hottest summer days, as my best childhood memories were of my skin laid bare to the sun: feeling the grass between my toes as I ran through the sprinkler on my front lawn; wading into an icy river in Idaho, my shorts hitched up my thighs, to catch my first rainbow trout; surfing a rolling emerald wave off the coast of Hawaii. But Aliya envied these girls and had asked me to buy her clothes like theirs. And now a headscarf.
In the past, my excuse was that they were hard to find at our local mall, but here she was, offering to spend ten dollars from her own allowance to buy the forest green rayon one she clutched in her hand. I started to shake my head emphatically “no,” but caught myself, remembering my commitment to Ismail. So I gritted my teeth and bought it, assuming it would soon be forgotten.
That afternoon, as I was leaving for the grocery store, Aliya called out from her room that she wanted to come.
A moment later she appeared at the top of the stairs—or more accurately, half of her did. From the waist down, she was my daughter: sneakers, bright socks, jeans a little threadbare at the knees. But from the waist up, this girl was a stranger. Her bright, round face was suspended in a tent of dark cloth like a moon in a starless sky………..
“Are you going to wear that?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said slowly, in that tone she had recently begun to use with me when I state the obvious.
Read the rest of this entry »
Making the Choice: Wearing the Hijab
November 13, 2009
Wearing the Hijab for the First Time
Essay by Najla Ghazi Amundson
I was born and raised in Akron, Ohio, to Muslim parents from Aleppo, Syria. We lived in an upper-middle class suburb, predominately white and Christian. My parents had doctoral degrees. Dad was an engineer at a large company and mom stayed home with my younger sister, brother, and me. My parents spoke Arabic at home and we responded in English. Our family did not attend Mosque, we did not fast nor did we celebrate Muslim holidays. The women in my family did not wear hijabs. But I knew I was Muslim. My parents taught me that being Muslim was a way of life. I learned about my religion when I asked questions, when I listened to my parents converse, from the rules of our home and the choices I was taught to make. My religion was also strongly tied to my ethnicity. To be Muslim was to be part of the Arab culture.
I grew up during the 1970s and 1980s, during the overthrow of the Shah of Iran and the Iran hostage crisis. That’s when Nightline first went on the air and Ted Koppel began each show with the number of days the hostages had been in captivity. Then the oil crisis. Neighbor kids would tell me my family should go back to where we came from and ask why my Dad didn’t wear a rag on his head. Just as I emerged as a new television reporter, the first Gulf War erupted. My beat was the local Air Force base. Most of my reports focused on National Guard troops being shipped off to Iraq. Then, there was 9/11 and now we have the ongoing “War on Terror” making Arab and Muslim synonymous with terrorist and anti-American.
I maintained a particular identity and I guarded it heavily. As an elementary student, I didn’t look like my blonde-haired and blue-eyed classmates, but I tried to appear like them as much as possible in clothing, hair, behavior, and talk. This emphasis on mainstream appearance hit a high in college when I represented my state in the Miss America Pageant. I also had chosen a career in broadcast journalism and became a well-recognized figure in my community as an evening television anchor. My position placed an emphasis on appearance.
As I saw it, the only way to relate the “I” to “we” was to blend into the dominant culture. So as I got older and gained more control over my own decisions, I took the route of least resistance. I spent much of my life not discussing my religion, or even my ethnicity. My parents knew what I was doing and so did I. They never said anything. I am sure they were ashamed of my choices. But some things are difficult to talk about. I wasn’t strong enough to be without a “we.”
The Decision
The decision to wear the hijab and write an autoethnography came about quickly. I came up with the idea about a year ago, but decided the timing wasn’t right. The night before the fall semester began, I was home with my husband, children and one of my friends, Anna (also a graduate student). I brought up the idea again and Anna enthusiastically encouraged me to follow through on it.
I wasn’t so sure. Read the rest of this entry »
Posted by SAKINA AND SARA 








THE REAL EFFECT OF WEARING HIJAB:LIBERATION
November 13, 2009Hijab is a ‘challenge to the political system’
simple full cover hijab
While Hijab may have political implications, as evident in the banning of Hijab in certain countries, Muslim women who choose to practice Hijab are not doing it to challenge the political system. Islam encourages men and women to observe modesty in private and public life. Hijab is an individual’s act of faith and religious expression.
I am liberated from slavery to ‘physical perfection’
Society makes women desire to become ‘perfect objects’. The multitudes of alluring fashion magazines and cosmetic surgeries show women’s enslavement to beauty. The entertainment industry pressures teens to believe that for clothes, less is better. When we wear Hijab, we vow to liberate ourselves from such desires and serve only God.
I don’t let others judge me by my hair and curves!
In schools and professional environments, women are often judged by their looks or bodies-characteristics they neither chose nor created. Hijab forces society to judge women for their value as human beings, with intellect, principles, and feelings. A woman in Hijab sends a message, “Deal with my brain, not my body!”
I feel empowered and confident
In contrast to today’s teenage culture, where anorexia and suicide are on the rise, as women attempt to reach an unattainable ideal of beauty, Hijab frees a woman from the pressure to ‘fit in’. She does not have to worry about wearing the right kind of jeans or the right shade of eyeshadow. She can feel secure about her appearance because she cares to please only Allah.
I feel the bond of unity
Hijab identifies us as Muslims and encourages other Muslim sisters to greet us with the salutation of peace, “Assalamu Alaikum”. Hijab draws others to us and immerses us in good company.
In some Arabic-speaking countries and Western countries, the word hijab primarily refers to women’s head and body covering, but in Islamic scholarship, hijab is given the wider meaning of modesty, privacy, and morality. The word used in the Qur’an for a headscarf or veil is khimār.
‘Those who harass believing men and believing women undeservedly, bear (on themselves)
a calumny and a grievous sin. O Prophet! Enjoin your wives, your daughters, and the wives of true believers that they should cast their outer garments over their persons (when abroad) That is most convenient, that they may be distinguished and not be harassed. And Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.’
(Qur’an 33:58-59)
Proper Hijab means loose and opaque clothes. Clothes should not be alluring or similar to the clothing of men. What about guys? Islam outlines a modest dress code for men and women. The requirements are different based on the obvious physiological and psychological differences between the two genders.
Hijab does not apply only to clothes. It is a state of mind, behaviour, and lifestyle. Hijab celebrates a desirable quality called Haya (modesty), a deep concern for preserving one’s dignity. Haya is a natural feeling that brings us pain at the very idea of committing a wrong..
The Prophet (s.a.w.) said:
“Every religion has a distinct call. For Islam it is Haya (modesty).”
Since nothing but what is apparent may be shown (i.e. hands and face) the garment must be thick enough so that we cannot see the color of the skin it covers or the shape of the body. Once the Prophet (pbuh) saw Asma, the daughter of Abu Bakr, visiting Aishah while Asma was wearing a dress that was not thick enough. He turned his face away in anger and said:
“If the woman reaches the age of puberty, no part of her body should be seen, but this,” and he pointed to his face and his hands. Another time when the Prophet (pbuh) saw a bride wearing a thin dress, he said, “She is not a woman who believes in Surat-un Nur who wears this.” He also described the future condition of the Ummah which would be straying from the injunction of the Islamic dress code. “In later (generations) of my Ummah there will be women who will be dressed but naked on top of heads (what looks)like camel humps. Curse them for they am truly cursed.
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