Layers in the hijab debate

The hijab has many layers. A collection of 17 essays, mostly from India and with some from Bangladesh and Iran, attempts to present some of them

The Hijab: Islam, Women and the Politics of Clothing

Editors: P K Yasser Arafath & G Arunima 

Publisher: 

Simon & Schuster

Pages: 240

Price:  Rs 599

The book cover reminds of a short film, Raat Rani, from the anthology Modern Love: Mumbai that premiered on Amazon Prime Video. After finally succeeding in cycling over a steep flyover, the protagonist, Lalzari (Lali), a hijab-wearing young Kashmiri woman who is abandoned by the man with whom she had eloped to Mumbai, exclaims in glee, “Maine flyover cross kar liya (I’ve crossed the flyover)”.

The flyover becomes a metaphor for the boundaries that she, like most women, is expected not to cross: Not dress or behave a certain way; not fall in love with men of a certain class or community; not step out after a certain time…. Hijab in place, she pedals away, almost flying into the night, smiling ear to ear.

Now, how does the hijab feature in this film? It’s just there, as a part of who Lali is. But why at all a hijab? Well, why not? Lali could be any woman who is in love with life, who defies convention, is daring and effervescent, and who also wears a hijab.

What, then, is the role of a hijab? Why has it invited such passionate protests in Karnataka? Why has the state issued a diktat and why has a court passed a judgement on it? Most importantly, how does it impact hijabi women who are caught between what is perceived as their oppression and a state’s aggressive moves to “rescue” them from that said oppression?

While there are no linear answers to these questions, The Hijab: Islam, Women and the Politics of Clothing attempts to contextualise the headscarf and the ban it has invited in Karnataka’s government schools and pre-university colleges through an exploration of history, sociology, feminism and the rise of majoritarian politics.

 A collection of 17 essays, mostly from India and with some from Bangladesh and Iran, the book begins with an angry essay by Janaki Nair, “The Hijab and the Invisible Muslim”. A six-page indictment of the ruling party and the state machinery, it lists events and proactive initiatives, such as passing new laws, to further the idea of a Hindu Rashtra. Ms Nair’s essay is not a journalistic exercise nor an academic endeavour but an opinion piece, like her newspaper columns, on a state working towards the “second-classness” of its Muslim population.

It all started with a government college in Udupi objecting to students turning up for class wearing a hijab, which the principal said was not part of the uniform. In the essay “Leaning Sameness, Recognising Differences”, the writers Navneet Sharma and Harikrishna Bhaskaran turn their attention to the very concept of uniform. They argue that uniforms in schools "were introduced to teach equality via sameness” and that “uniforms assume that confronting strangers or ‘others’ will instil deeper differences in younger minds”, a misplaced idea. As they explore the spectrum of arguments applied to restrict symbolic clothing in schools and colleges, they maintain that the state’s disregard for reasonable accommodation has the potential to further the ideological project of homogenising the imagined nation.

The distinction between the niqab, which covers the entire face, and the hijab, which is a headscarf, is also made out — with the former having the potential to interfere with classroom teaching since the student’s face and expressions would not be visible.

Is it Islamophobia that has triggered the furious protests over the hijab? In his essay “Politics of Hijab”, Hilal Ahmed says “Islamophobia” is a Western notion to address the anxieties of the white, middle-class European and US population, and it does not capture the complexities of the hijab debate.

He, instead, describes it as “Muslim politicophobia” — the merger of global anti-Islamism and anti-Muslim communalism — that is not based on an intelligible set of ideological principles, but on a set of floating ideas: Indianisation, Hindu pride, cultural nationalism, Rashtriya Suraksha, Swadeshi etc. That these ideas are never placed in any coherent structure allows the Hindutva groups to take context-appropriate positions,

he posits.

But what does the hijab mean to the women — a symbol of oppression or a matter of choice? Is it a cultural identity or a religious identity?

The essay “A Sovereign Body” by Shirin Saeidi, who has for years researched the Hezbollah Islamic movement, explores the ban through another dimension: Muslim women’s sovereignty over their bodies.

The researcher, who has often travelled between Iran and the US, says her experimentation with the hijab has helped her learn to identify her emotions and recognise her bodily sovereignty — something a ban such as this would obstruct. Her essay delves into a chequered campaign launched by exiled Iranian journalist Masih Alinejad against Iran’s compulsory veiling policy and looks to the “Iranian woman who are already unveiling, re-veiling, and revealing their critiques of the Islamic Republic, Western hegemony, and patriarchy”.

The book ends on a story by Noor Zaheer, a tragedy resulting from confusion because of a burqa. The essays are split into four sections: “contexts and questions” around the hijab ban; “Reading the Ban” on the politicising of the hijab; “Ethno/History/Life Writing” on reasons Muslim women choose to wear or abandon the hijab; and “Many Feminisms”, on the multiple faces and expressions of women’s empowerment.

As literary historian Rakhshanda Jalil writes on the book jacket, while “one might not agree with everything that is said in these essays,” they are deeply thought through, well-researched and present nuanced arguments on a politicised issue.

As with many things, the hijab debate is not black and white. The hijab has many layers, and this anthology of essays attempts to present some of them.