Behind The Veil by Lina F. Boothby

BEHIND THE VEIL A PERSONAL ACCOUNT OF A WEEK WEARING A BURQA

‘Save us from fire’ friday PRAYER AT THE MOSQUE By Paulina F Boothby

er bare feet went almost blue as she stepped on the floor covered with cold, white tiles. She silently sat down, bowing her head as she started splashing water, streaming from the wall taps, on her arms. Her thoughts drifted as she washed her right arm from the fingers to the elbow. Finding pure fresh water at her hometown, in Somalia was an everyday challenge for the believers. Here in England, people seemed to take it for granted.

Noticing her preoccupied mind, she quickly thanked god for running water as she carried on the ablution with the left arm, cleaning them three times each. Her golden wedding ring sat on her lap, so the water could clean the finger underneath. She continued the process by wetting her feet from the toes up to the ankles to ‘save her heels from fire’, followed by her face and neck. Removing her veil, she passed water through her hair before she ran it through her mouth and nose three times. The small, round stools to her left and right were all occupied by loudly chatting women following the same ritual. She didn’t feel like joining the conversation. Wudu was a time for complete cleansing and purity before prayer, and this time she didn’t want to spoil it with any distractions. She had missed the last week of prayer, because her womanly body was considered dirty in the eyes of Allah. Now she came to the mosque to offer her Jumu’ah – the most important Friday prayer to Allah, and to seek forgiveness. Faiza and her Pakistani husband, Hassan along with hundreds of other believers, entered the mosque at different entrances as required by the Sharia – the Law of God. The brothers used the main entrance, with the shiny, glass double doors opened wide to welcome them. Hassan joined into the crowd of old and young men, dressed in white linen tunics, wearing colourful turbans and hats. Their murmur filled the richly decorated hallway, where they took their shoes off, the right shoe followed by the left shoe, like the Prophet Mohamed did. They were talking about business, politics and family and their loud Salam (meaning ‘May peace be upon you’) greetings echoed between the white, marble covered walls. Along with the rest of the women, Faiza used a small side door leading to the women’s quarters in the mosque, where they were completely hidden from the eyes of both the public and men. The sisters arrived in their finest abayas and hijabs, dressed in pastel pinks, browns and violets, showing off their heavy gold jewellery and wearing their most expensive perfume. The scent of all the mixed fragrances was almost suffocating in the small corridor leading to the wash rooms, where the wudu was performed. As an outside spectator, one would feel like they had been miraculously transported to a Middle Eastern bazaar upon entering the mosque. The air heavy with unknown flavours, one can hear various, melodic languages spoken loudly over each other. It is truly astonishing how all these different people from different backgrounds, cultures and from different parts of the world come together and pray in unity in Arabic, the holy language of the Prophet. Ten minutes before the start of the prayer, the muezzin – whose recites the call to prayer before every gathering, called the crowd to enter the prayer halls. He repeated the call several times through the internal microphone system, softly clearing his throat in the intervals. Both men and women suddenly turned quiet and like a flock of colourful birds, flooded the carpeted halls. Taking their place at the front, they stood shoulder to shoulder, representing equality in front of Allah, on the one-piece deep blue, Turkish carpet. Faiza and the sisters spent a few moments emptying their minds from any impure thoughts, and then offered a couple of voluntary silent prayers to ‘greet the mosque’. The room was almost frozen in time. There was no other noise to hear other than the faint fabric-on-fabric rustling sound, that came from the soft garments as the women kneeled down in 2

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Muslim men and women offer prayer. The sun shined through the dome windows and its rays played around the crystal beads of the magnificent Chinese chandelier above the sisters. After a few eternal minutes, the women sat down on the carpet to listen to the sermon delivered by the imam – the religious leader of the congregation. Some of the children, already getting bored in the back, were mischievously whispering. Their mothers, with cheeks on fire, angrily hushed them. This peaceful crowd of sisters had ears like bats and tongues like serpents and they never failed to give mothers with naughty children a hard time. Although the Prophet spoke of peace and understanding, ladies will always be ladies. The imam’s speech was broken up by several silent prayers to Allah (salaat) and once he finished the sermon, the women all stood up once more facing Mecca - the holy city of the Prophet, whispering their prayers, then kneeling down and continuing to bow down completely so their foreheads touched the ground. In complete transfixion

five, complusory prayers to Allah daily, however these prayers are not restricted to a mosque they repeated the same motions seven more times, while their veils fell onto their faces, covering their lips reciting the ancient prayers. Faiza’s dreams and prayers were inextricably entangled with those of the other women. They dreamt of a peaceful, clean home, a good Muslim husband, patience and a stronger faith that could bring them closer to the will of Allah. Their gentle voices sounded like an inward sigh as they sought god’s forgiveness, asking him to save them from the fire of hell. Once Faiza finished her salaats, she stood up and shook the hands of the woman standing next to her, wishing her ‘Allah’s answer’ to her prayers. The woman’s hands were large, sweaty and warm. Her big, welcoming smile made Faiza feel like she belonged. Muslim wives didn’t meet often if they didn’t spend time in the same circles. Some of them, who weren’t born in the UK, didn’t speak English well enough to make friends with anybody outside of their nationality. Mothers often only quickly passed each other when picking up their children from the afternoon Islamic school. On weekdays, most of them were housebound

taking care of their chores and families, which prevented them from attending the less important mosque meetings. Some of the women, like Faiza, held jobs and prayed their five, compulsory salaats at their workplace and at home instead of travelling to the mosque. Faiza and the woman exchanged a few kind words, before making their way to meet their husbands outside. The mosque came to life once more as the crowd left the prayer halls and started searching for their shoes and sandals thrown to the sides of the marble hallways. As the families reunited outside the building, they headed towards the parking lot. The elderly passionately shook hands with each other in the door, reminiscing about the glorious past and blocking everybody’s way out. In this vibrant chaos, children were jumping on their father’s feet begging them to stop at the supermarket on the way home, and wives were shouting across the asphalt, waving goodbye to each other. This handful of Muslim believers was soon to scatter across the city, living their everyday lives, just like any one of us. BEHIND THE VEIL

FROM OUTSIDE IN wearing the veil as a non-muslim

rowing up, I listened to the same sentence over and over again. “If you are afraid of it, you have to try it.” My mother probably meant it solely for food, but this saying became engraved in my mind and has slowly become my mantra. This is why, when I first saw a Muslim woman, dressed in all-black, covering her face and I felt that sudden tightness in my throat, I decided to tackle my fear and wear the veil for a week in Sheffield. All while carrying on with my everyday life. Seeing women so hidden and isolated behind a piece of fabric made me feel emotional. I was also intriqued to know how it felt to be restricted and so blatantly different from everybody else. As a woman, who is free to make her own choices, I wondered if this is a voluntary or forced cover-up. Would the removal of the veil change the essence of these women? Would wearing the veil change me? And if so, how...?

My authentic Afghani style, black khimar arrived on May 16 from eBay with a note written in Arabic, and cost me £45. The kihmar is basically a dark cape, with no sleeves that covers the body completely from head to toe. It doesn’t get any more modest than this. It took me some time to figure out how actually to put it on. Included was a tie-on niqab, which is a three layered face veil with a narrow slit for the eyes. It had a flip down mesh for women who want complete privacy by even covering their eyes, but I soon cut it out. The collection came complete with an elbow length pair of black gloves and a pair of black wudu socks, which are foamy and alien looking. The whole attire, including the netting for the eyes, was basically a burqa, traditional and compulsory to wear in strict Islamic countries like Afghanistan. My husband came home as I was trying them on and from his sudden step backwards upon seeing me, I understood the awkwardness of the situation. According to him, I looked like a scary, black ninja. The next day, I went on a short shopping trip in Broomhill, Sheffield wearing my niqab. Walking down the sunny, peaceful street, all I could hear was my own, heavy breathing warming up the inside of the veil. I felt like a complete outsider with this black fabric dividing me from the world around. As I walked towards the shops a few builders whistled at me. “Here comes the Afghan bride,” they shouted. The checkout woman at Sainsbury’s tried not to stare as she scanned my pint of milk, but I could feel her gaze burning a hole into my back, as I left the shop. On the second day of wearing the niqab, I spent most of my time at the university under the respectful stares of my course mates and staff. Coming out of the ladies’ bathroom in my department a women stopped me confused and asked if I was lost and in need of help. She tried to be polite, but I could tell she wasn’t happy with me wondering around in the building. This was the longest day yet in the garment and I was boiling hot underneath. Personally, I wouldn’t wish this for my worst enemies in a desert. My lips started cracking from breathing with an open mouth and my cheeks were fiery from being covered by a black fabric in the sun. The kihmar soon started rubbing the soft skin underneath my chin, so I had to constantly rearrange the hemming to make it better. But the worst of all, the slit for my eyes wasn’t made with any consideration for eye lashes. They got stuck in the edge of the slit, making blinking a very awkward job. On the plus side, the fabric of the cape floated in the wind and somehow made me feel a lot more feminine. That was, without the niqab. The niqab and I soon became arch enemies. At the university, I was noticed a lot more, which seemed to defeat the purpose of hiding underneath the veil. I found that men stare a lot more into my eyes, because they are blue and the only thing visible on me. One of my most surprising discoveries during wearing the attire was 4

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I was wearing an abaya and how Muslim taxi drivers seemed to stop for me every time I needed to cross the road. They usually try to run me over to prove their superiority, but my modest Islamic clothing demanded their respect and they politely waved me across the road every single time. Another heartwarming experience was how completly unknown Muslim men and women would greet me with a loud ‘As-salamu alaykum’ (Arabic for ‘May peace be upon you’), when I walked past them on the street. I secretly wish our society would adopt this community-minded attitude towards each other. In one of the evenings we popped into Atkinsons with my husband for a quick shop. If ever, this was the time when I felt completely out of place. The elderly ladies smelling of rose scented soaps, wondering around choosing pastel knitting wool looked at me like I was a black ghost from a horror movie they have never seen. I couldn’t help but laugh with nervous energy as the crowd split in two in front of me, like the Red Sea in front of Moses. My husband, who was chaperoning me,

niqab for a week, while I carried on living my everyday life kept his head down, pretending he didn’t know me. I wonder, is this how disabled people feel? What about the homeless? And all the minorities, who just don’t fit into our clean-cut Western society? My friends later told me that they would be also frightened walking next to a burqa-clad woman. They claim this feeling is now inevitably part of all of us. Social outings were proven fairly difficult in the burqa. First of all, I couldn’t drink alcohol. I mean I could have, but by that I would have risked being quickly found out and that I wanted to avoid. Secondly, I couldn’t go anywhere near where alcohol was served. Many women wearing the hijab, don’t take this rule as seriously, so they enter licenced establishments during the day for a coffee. Never at night. Thirdly, Muslim women are required to cover up whenever they are in the company of men, who are not their father, brother or husband. Practically, this meant that one day I couldn’t take by niqab off when I got home from university, because we had the electrician in the flat. He almost fell off a chair, when he saw me coming into the room. This rule also meant that

a casual afternoon tea with the in-laws looked rather peculiar. In the current political climate, I prepared for the worst whilst wearing the niqab. I was expecting people spitting at me and calling me a terrorist. During my research, I found several accounts of women being attacked on the street and their hijab pulled off their heads and treated inferior because of their religious clothing. Most of the Muslim women don’t wear a full cover in Western countries, because they feel it draws more attention to them, therefore defeating the purpose of covering up. Recently, girls were banned from wearing Islamic clothing in France and the constant news on the brutality of ISIS doesn’t help the peaceful Muslim communities living in the United Kingdom. To be absolutely blunt, it is probably the worst time to be a Muslim in the West right now. However, although I received some funny looks and malicious comments, the overall reaction of the public was neutral. Even if people were (CONTINUES ON PAGE 7) BEHIND THE VEIL

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Muslim men praying at the Sheffield Medina Mosque during the Friday afternoon prayer

IS burqa islamic?

A conflict of culture and religion

hese days, the wearing of the burqa – a piece of garment that covers a woman’s body and face, is a dying practice of the older generation. Younger women choose to wear it as a piece of decorative fabric, or to show their commitment to God, rather than as a necessary part of their attire. Although religious leaders disagree on the matter, conservatives claim it to be a necessary part of a Muslim woman’s attire. Women veiling themselves dates back to the Assyrian Empire, where a veil represented social status and only aristocrats were allowed to wear them. This custom carried into Islam, when the religion spread accross the world. In only a hundred years after Mohammad started Islam in 633AD, veiling was expected of Muslim women. Throughout the centuries veiling became a disadvantage for women, who weren’t allowed to work or attend higher education. In 1899, Quasim Amin’s book ‘The Emancipation of Women’ started a heated debate in Egypt, whether the state of the country was due to the lack of education women receive. In the 1920s more and more Muslim countries started to question whether the veil is Islamic and if tribal traditions should be allowed to carry into the religion. However, this period of ease on the dress code ended after Egypt lost the Six Days War against Israel and many women went back to a complete veiling to show their superiority and domination. It might look oppressive and confining to the untrained eye, but the burqa fashion isn’t something recently imposed on women to deny them of their freedom. Women who wear the veil are doing it so as a form of protest against the rule of the west and women still wear it because they claim it is liberation for them. As a matter of fact, veiling isn’t even solely Islamic. Women covering themselves was historically a very common phenomenon in most parts of the world, but modern Europe only continues this tradition through wedding veils and the habit of nuns. When it comes to Islamic veiling, a full cover up isn’t required by law in many countries. Turkey and Tunisia for example are the most liberal and leave it to the individual to decide whether they want to cover themselves at all, and women only tend to wear a loose headscarf. Most women who wear a face covering veil come from certain re6

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gions of the Middle East. In Afghanistan, where women wear a burqa with a mesh covering their eyes, the law forcing women not to show any skin was imposed by the Taliban regime. This country remains the strictest of all Islamic nations to this day, when it comes to women’s dress code. Although Afghani women aren’t required to wear a burqa since the fall of the Taliban in 2001, these garments became part of everyday fashion and women continue to wear them. Iran is another example for harsh governmental control on women’s wear. Women failing to obey the national dress-code of a black or white robe and a face veil, can face harassment, beatings or worse. However, women do stand up for the burqa, defending their right to religious self-expression. For many women, covering themselves from head-to-toe in a burqa is an important part of their everyday accessories. Burqas don’t have to be plain black. They come in all sorts of colours; in vibrant blues, reds and golds and with different patterns, embroidery and beading. The style, length and material of the burqa also vary from region to region. Aside from modesty, veiling used to serve a practical purpose, protecting the woman’s face from the desert dust and the sun. This piece of fabric also represents purity, grace for many and strength and women still wear it proudly. Traditionally, especially in the Gulf region, girls put on the burqa once they were engaged to be married. Nowadays some people still follow this tradition and only start wearing a hijab after they are married, however in other regions girls as young as six are obliged to wear it to get used to it. Most women would cover up once they hit puberty, so they are protected from the eyes of men, who are also potential husbands to them. However, ladies from rich families, who have a chance for education and holding jobs often decide to completely stop veiling themselves. The reason why burqas are so uncommon in western countries is because over time, traditional veiling transformed into a stylised hijab. The hijab we see on most young girls and women, first became popular amongst university students in Egypt and soon spread all around the world as a modern alternative to the conventional burqa. Although the hijab might be on the rise, many still aruge that the classic veiling that the burqa represents serves no logical purpose in western countries and wearing it brings unnecessary danger and harrasment onto women.

staring at me, they tried to remain as reserved as possible in doing so. On Saturday, at the Moor Market I even got a woman smiling at me, with a big, reassuring smile. However, some people seemed to be completely frightened by my sight and one woman refused to queue up behind me at a Tesco checkout. She instead, unloaded her trolley onto the conveyor belt and stood on the other side of it, until I was at a safe distance from her. On one of the evenings, my husband took me out for dinner. The waitress at Pizza Express told me, they “don’t serve Muslim food here.” I have also been called ‘bizarre’, ‘terrifying’ and ‘odd’. At work, I have been previously advised to let my boss know what I was up to, in order to avoid any misunderstandings. Unsurprisingly, when I arrived for my morning shift, the office seemed expectant of me turning up in a complete black cover. As a matter of fact, my boss came in to work on a Saturday solely to see if I kept my word of wearing the burqa for a whole six hours. I have heard my Muslim colleagues complaining about the hijab blocking their hearing before, but it didn’t prepare me for the six hours on the telephone not hearing properly. At this point I also had to ditch my gloves, because typing on a keyboard was a nightmare in them. Public eating in the niqab was my funniest experience. I was struggled to eat a tomato and basil pasta bake for a good hour. The process must have looked comic to outside spectators as I lifted my veil, to shove a fork underneath for each bite. Drinking seemed to be a bit easier, but I still made my friends giggle as they watched me. I reached the end of my week covering up on Sunday. Against all warnings and criticism, I couldn’t be more pleased that I gathered my courage to do it. When I set off to wear the burqa for a week I wanted to know if it would change me. I also wanted to know how other humans experience life while following the complex tradition of veiling. During the past week I noticed women wearing the hijab more. I felt solidarity with them. I experienced a growth in my own perspective, and for once I didn’t set out to critique them. I found that being gut-wrenchingly paralyzed with fear and prejudice leads to aggression and isolation. Afterall, we are all women, only influenced by different cultures. While I am comfortable with tight jeans and bikinis, these women grew used to covering their hair and cleavage. Covered-up women wouldn’t be the same without their hijab. They would lose their feeling of purity without it, and who are we to take that sense of wholeness from them? Personally, I slowly find my perspective on Muslim women shifting. I think it is somewhat contradicting that in a free society like ours, women can be bullied into abandoning their traditional and religious clothing because they make others feel uncomfortable. Our society promotes ‘diversity awareness’. Yet, we are quick to follow cliché slogans, without making an effort to understand them. We are keen to promote feminism, but feminism has two extremes. The beauty of diversity is that it gives women the freedom of choice to show their butt cheeks if they wanted, or wear a black burqa that only shows their eyes.

The Chinese chandelier in the ladies’ quarter at the Madina Mosque in Sheffield (top) Khadijah leading a mosque tour (bottom)

mosque boss

he petite frame of Khadijah is covered by a large, grey tent of an abaya, which only lets her hands show. She passionately puts her expensive handbag on the table and looks at me confused. “I thought you were Muslim.” I murmur an apology, explaining that my name could have been deceiving, because it’s of Arabic origin. She smiles at me and nods in agreement. Her head is completely hidden beneath the most neon pink hijab I have ever encountered. When I ask her where she got it from, she laughs. “I had to make it myself. Bright hijabs can be hard to find.”

As she slowly sipps on an Iced Caramel Macchiato we start chatting about her job at the mosque. Looking at her rather bold looking outfit, I would have never guessed that she has been the boss at the mosque for the past seven years. She is overseeing the teaching of children and women, conducting visits and making sure the carpets are kept in pristine condition. According to her, this is the best job in the world, because she gets to tell people what to do and share her passion for Islam with visitors. Yet this is only her hobby. She also works as a child protection officer in a secondary school and works part time as a carer for the elderly. Khadijah grew up in a religious, but open-minded family and from her accent I can tell that she is a Yorkshire lass, even if she would try to deny it. Although they spent most of their time within a non-Muslim community, they strictly followed the requirements of Islam, such as not drinking alcohol, eating halal meat, and praying five times a day. “I started wearing my hijab when I was 12. My parents never forced it on me, but my dad encouraged me to attend study circles as a child to learn about the importance of the hijab. Wearing the hijab was my personal choice, but I tried to still fit into the school crowd by styling it in all sorts of crazy styles.” She admits that recently she is trying to pay more attention to staying modest in the way she dresses. “People often forget the purpose of the hijab. It is not something to draw attention to you, but to hide you. It is not a fashion statement.” However, she admits to be a fashionista. “I can never say no to a bright colour or a nice pattern, but I try to keep it low. Wearing black from head-to-toe is excessive for me, although you need to keep the boundaries.” When I ask her what the hijab means to her personally, she replies “My hijab is everything to me. It is my identity. I couldn’t even imagine leaving the house without it. I would feel completely naked.” Khadijah describes herself a family person. As a matter of fact she never left her childhood home, even while she was studying social studies at the University of Sheffield. She describes her time at university as a ‘weird experience.’ Although she was in the same city, she entered a completely different circle of people, who didn’t follow the same religion, didn’t stick to a halal diet and didn’t wear the headscarf. “At first I was worried that I’m wasn’t going to be able to fit in. But I went with a very open mind and I was lucky to find some great friends, who accepted me as I was, and I never felt isolated. They tried their best to keep me involved and often texted at 3am on a night out, telling me they missed me.” When I stir the conversation towards how Muslim people are portrayed in the media, I can see a shadow crossing her face. “I don’t feel like defending myself, but I do have a responsibility to show people that we are not terrorists. Islam is all about being kind and bringing peace. It is getting harder, because the media is blowing everything out of proportion. I find these Muslims bizarre. Sometimes I wonder where on Earth they get these ideas from. Maybe it’s a difference between culture and religion, but then I say ‘Which culture teaches this?”

BEHIND THE VEIL

‘THE HIJAB IS MY CHOICE’

amisa arrives a little late to our interview, in a city centre coffee shop. She previously asked me to meet her in this particular cafe. “People stare less here,” she explains. She nervously fixes her hijab, checking if any of her hair is showing from underneath, before making me repeat my promise not to take any photographs of her face. “In Islam we can’t take pictures of any living creature, including humans,” Ramisa tells me. We have a short chat about the weather and her degree in medicine before getting to the point: What does your hijab mean to you? She starts with explaining how it was a long struggle for her to accept the necessity of the hijab. “I started wearing it when I was 11, because my good Muslim mother told me to. Every morning I left to school wearing it and as soon as I was out of my mother’s reach, I took it off and hid it in my bag. I continued this until I was 17, when I completely stopped wearing a hijab. I didn’t understand the point of it and I loved my hair flowing in the wind and hated covering it.” Ramisa was in her first year of university at Sheffield, when she started learning more about Islam through books and decided to cover up again, but by only wearing the headscarf, opting to keep her western clothes. She said Muslim women are struggling from the conflicting messages of the world they live in and their religious obligations. “Of course I want to do the same things that everyone else does. I want to wear fashionable clothes, but covering up is the only thing that women have to do when following Islam. To me the hijab is purity in the eyes of God and my choice to obey what the Quran teaches us.” “We wouldn’t struggle so much if covering up was normal. To me the culture around me is a restriction not my hijab.” Although she takes Islam seriously now, most of her friends aren’t Muslim. She says it is wrong for Muslim people to isolate themselves from other people, because it creates misunderstandings between cultures. “Some people prefer to isolate themselves to avoid racist comments, but I think I want to prove them wrong,” she adds. When I ask her how she sees the ideal Muslim woman, she laughs: “A true Muslim woman probably sounds very boring. She is praying, covering up, respectful and behaving modestly. Her house is always clean and welcoming and she is friendly, loving and without complaint. A good Muslim woman is also a good wife and mother and always content with what she has, not wanting to have more money.” As for marriage, a Muslim woman has to be pure and caring and only willing to marry a Muslim man. Ramisa adds that a long, thick beard is also a desirable quality in a man as well as finding a chaperone in them. “I have to have a good Muslim husband, because it is our duty and responsibility to teach our children, just like in any other community or culture,” she explains.

Various veils The hijab is the most commonly worn in western countries. Originally it meant ‘veiling or cover’ in Arabic. It is a square scarf that covers the head and neck but leaves the face clear. Women are free to choose any colour or pattern or style to wear. Some wear a cap underneath to make sure their hair won’t show, but Egyptian women leave a path of hair out above their forehead.

The abaya is a loose garment worn with a hijab or underneath several layers of covering. It’s purpose if to conceal the shape of the body and to completely cover the legs, arms and the cleavage. There are several styles and colours of abayas, but the most luxurious looking ones come from Dubai.

The burqa is the most concealing of all Islamic veils. Originally from Afghanistan, it covers the entire face and body, leaving only a mesh screen for the eyes. The length of the burqa is different for each woman, depending on their age and marital status. They are usually either black or vibrant blue.

The chador is a full body cloak, covering the head and body, held together by the hands at the front or underneath the arms. It is the most common veiling in Iran and is often worn with a smaller, colourful headscarf udnerneath.

The khimar is a full body length cape that covers the hair, neck, cleavage and shoulders, leaving the face clear. It is often worn together with a niqab and is commonly worn in Afghanistan and Somalia. The khimar is often very colourful and patterned.

The niqab is a s a veil for the face that leaves the area around the eyes clear. However, it may be worn with a separate eye veil. It is worn with an accompanying headscarf, such as a khimar. Niqabs come in one, two or three layers and are usually tied on top of a head covering. If a woman uses a separate eye covering mesh, the niqab becomes part of a burqa. 8

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