How sad it is, that intercultural intolerance seems to be all over the place lately, both in Europe and beyond, and that discussions of intolerance so often focus on absolute non-issues or blatant misunderstandings such as the one with regard to women wearing the veil in public life and/or at the workplace. Most of the commentators and debaters in the West, where the champions in veil-unfriendliness are France and Belgium, seem to hold that the veil is ultimately a symbol of masculine oppression of women or of Muslim religious fanaticism - neither of which statements is anywhere near the truth. But does the truth still matter, in the whirlwind of xenophobic public debates and ethnocentric policies stirring the sentiments of modern global citizens, wherever they might live and work?

The Veil as a an accessory of female beauty

During my years in the Middle East and in the Gulf, one of the first surprising facts I learned while mingling and socialising with the girls at the office was that the veil, in general, is considered by its wearer to be an accessory of female beauty. Hijabs are trendy, come in all forms and shapes and colours, matching outfits as diverse as flashy dresses or the severe-looking but serene and classy black abaya - and shopping for the ultimate hijab is a truly delightful enterprise undertaken by cheerfully treasure-hunting gangs of girls in high spirits. Nothing is more exhilarating than seeing how your face in general and your eyes in particular are accentuated by covering up the rest of your head, and feeling how all attention is now concentrated not on your looks but on the organs with which you look at the world.

The Veil as a symbol of social status

Also, wearing the veil expresses one's status in society. Just like anywhere in the world, in the Middle East and in the Gulf young girls would be anxiously looking forward to growing up, to being adults, to being treated as adults, or, generally, to being taken seriously. Wearing the veil, then, means to be taken for what one has become: a fully adult woman, someone to be taken into account, someone to be listened to, someone who has gained the privilige of expressing herself and her individuality. When living and working as a young professional among Arab, Zanzibari, Sindhi and Baluchi colleagues, I couldn't help acquiring the same longing as the girls at the office, and buying and occasionaly wearing the veil became as natural to me as putting on make-up. See me now, I felt, I am a woman, I have the power, you can start listening to me.

At the office, we were of all ages, and the mix of unveiled and veiled provided a razmataz of different individualities and personal choices unheard of at offices in the West. Sometimes, when a colleague grew older, more mature, or she married, she would feel uncertain and a wee bit ill at ease when remembering that pictures of her unveiled self were circulating. More than once I received mail kindly asking me to please remove a certain photo from my weblog - just like the girls I know today in the West who would do anything to get rid of their girlish trail on Facebook. Indeed, growing up means repositioning oneself: a truly global and transcultural phenomenon.

A Sense of Unlimited Freedom

Repositioning oneself as an individual. Coming of age. Marvellous as these experiences might be for a young woman entering the stage of public and professional life, the ultimate sense of unlimited freedom as a woman, as I can personally testify, comes with wearing not just a headscarf or a veil, but with going all the way and draping yourself in an abaya. Whenever I am challenged by a sobber who thinks that an abaya is just a plain and uniform-like, formless black body cover, all I do is give one small piece of advice: Go to the Gulf, visit a shopping mall, dwindle away in the women departments of the fanciest of clothing retailers - and discover the wealth and richness of abaya fashion. You won't believe your eyes.

Apart from being extremely distinguished, stylish and fashionable, wearing an abaya provides one with all the luxuries which women in the West can only dream of: away with worries about the size of your buttocks and the colour of your legs, away with Pamela Anderson gazes, away with sweaty armpits and obsessions about lacking the bodysize appropriate for competing with friends. Comes the unlimited freedom of choosing your design and walking the streets without stress, looking slightly taller than you are, making just the statement you want, with all attention on your walk and your gaze - exactly those two features which are the expression of your inner self, your inner rhythm, your inner tune, and your true personality.

Try it! You will be amazed at what you feel. Walking the clouds. Razzle-dazzle!

The veil as an expression of one's multiple identity 

When I came back to Belgium after a prolonged stay in the Middle East and the Gulf, the headscarf and the veil were the issue of the day, the notorious hoofddoekendebat, with pros and cons (but mostly cons) smeared all over the media, and it was as if I had landed on another planet. What is the point?, I thought, and whenever I heard a politician discuss the desire for the abandonment of religious symbols in public life, as even the most progressive members of the elected core then did and still do, I could hardly stop myself from laughing. For someone to call the hijab a religious symbol, the understanding of what culture means (including customs, manners, fashion and so much more) and of what religion means must surely be somewhere deep down below zilch.

Since then, I have worked most of the time in assignments with public utility and welfare services - some of which so far have had the indulgence not (yet?) to forbid our Maghribian Belgian colleagues to dress as they like. And as I expected, when meeting with trainees with Turkish or North African cultural roots, when given a choice the whole diversity of veiled and unveiled comes to the surface. However, many of the women I meet admit that wearing the hijab is a recent phenomenon: the more the public debate against the headscarf is raging, and the more Western self-assigned women liberator feminists call on the politician to free their Maghribian sisters from the slavery of being veiled, the more these women turn to wearing the headscarf. If only, as a statement. First of all: a statement that they are taking care of themselves and can speak up for themselves, thank you. Above that: as a statement of their identity. An identity which is blended. They are Belgians in their language and half of their habits and customs, just as they are Maghribian in their other language and the other half of their manners and customs. Because one's identity is always multiple, by definition. And because in any society of human beings, every individual should have the full right of coming out with her identity, through means of statements of expression, including clothing, dress and ornaments.

What has failed and is failing, is not the multicultural society, as Angela Merkel seems to think. What has failed and is failing and will always fail, is persistent oppression from above, of one's right to having not just one, but a set of multiple identities - blending with each other into a colourful and very potent mixture of possibilities.

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For a good further read, I suggest Fadwa el Guindi's Veil: Modesty, Privacy and Resistance, Berg, Oxford-New York 1999, ISBN 1 85973 929 6, in which she concludes that veiling in contemporary Arab culture is largely about identity, largely about privacy - of space and body. The aspects of modesty and seclusion, always taken first and foremost by Western critics of the Arab dress code, she says, are not adequate characterizations of the phenomenon as it is expressed in the Middle East. QED.

 

 

(Michaela Broeckx)