n a highly controversial debate, Britain is deciding whether to ban women wearing the full-face niqab veil in public. The debate sparked by Lib Dem Minister, Jeremy Browne came after a judge ordered a Muslim woman standing trial to remove her niqab whilst giving evidence, so that he could ascertain if she was telling the truth or not. In another incident, a college in Birmingham dropped a ban on its pupils wearing the full-face niqab veils following protests. These days communication without barriers is becoming important in British society and to show one’s face is part of that; be it in a court of law, school or hospital. But where would we draw the line and avoid restricting freedom of religious and cultural expression?
Our neighbours, France and Belgium have already imposed a ban on wearing the niqab, removing the freedom of choice completely. The controversy led to widespread riots and protests in Paris. It makes me nervous to think of the uproar this has already caused. Racists call them ‘ninjas,’ some pour alcohol over them and call them female terrorists, but they themselves say they are normal Muslim people. Since 9/11 it seems that every Muslim is now branded a terrorist or belongs to a terror network. We have come to vilify a certain culture and created Islamaphobia.
What do you automatically think when you see a woman with a veil over her face? If you’re like me, then you probably feel sorry for the poor soul behind the veil. But when passing by a group of them in the street, it can get uncomfortable. Being a non-Muslim myself I can deal with women wearing the hijab headscarf and understand its symbolism of modesty. But what I struggle with is the niqab – the veil that covers the face with only the eyes visible. It seems us British folk can suffer an irrational fear of someone in a niqab.
I embarked on an undercover assignment to test the waters in full Muslim dress, hijab and niqab. I traveled out of UK to Brussels and back via Eurostar to find out what it was like to a day in the life wearing a niqab. Donning the hijab and dress felt like wearing a protective shield. I could still see my face, my character. The thought of covering my face, especially my mouth was terrifying. With only my eyes exposed, I was totally out of my comfort zone and found it difficult to breathe. How on earth do they cope in the Middle East wearing all this, when temperatures can really soar? Muzzled for the first time, I stared back in the mirror with fear of what I would face in public.
In Brussels and left the hotel. I was more conscious of my body language and behavior, I walked confidently and more pronounced. With naturally smiley eyes, I used them to my advantage so as to avoid scaring anyone. My first encounter didn’t seem too bad, until I noticed peoples’ deliberate attempts to not walk near me. Reactions from passer bys were mixed. Some stared back with their eyes widening in horror, while others glanced then instantly dropped their head or turned away. I recall one lady who grabbed her children’s’ arms and forced them to walk away from me when passing by, only to release her grip to let them walk freely again once I was gone. This knocked my confidence. Even when I smiled, not one person smiled back. Wearing a niqab is not a pleasant experience and those women who do must have nerves of steel. I even felt compelled not to fiddle in my bag or have my phone out; for fear that people would think I was a terrorist or about to detonate a suicide bomb. I wondered how it must feel for niqabi women who have to don this everyday of their lives and have their actions and behaviours judged every time they step out into a public arena.
At the Belguim Customs desk, my brief was to not remove the veil at first call. The officer took my passport, glanced to his colleague then turned, gesturing to me to show my face. I nodded and lifted my veil then dropped it when he was done inspecting it. Not satisfied, he asked me to remove my veil. I gestured no with my hand and lifted my veil again. Asking if I spoke English, I said a little and he asked me again to remove my veil. I told him you can see my face no? Things got a bit uncomfortable when he turned to his colleague and spoke something in native tongue. He told me I could not wear the veil and had to remove it completely. I could feel everyone around me was watching, as he went on to further explain, you can wear this in your country but in France and Belgium you are not allowed to wear the niqab. Next time do not wear this, ok! To avoid the situation turning into a public display, I removed it and walked off. I was secretly glad he forced me to remove it and relieved to breathe again. I wanted to prove to everyone who saw me that I’m neither a terrorist nor a freak of nature. I spared a thought to all the women who had ever been forced to remove their veil, a cultural identity that belongs to them.
UK Customs was a breeze. The lady held up my passport and carefully checked my face matched. Enquiring whether I had bought my ticket that day, she handed back my passport and I walked on. Other passengers cleared customs in seconds and it was clear I was subjected to a more rigorous examination. Were they carrying out their job or to safeguard and check; or deliberately targeting some more thoroughly than others because of the way I dressed?
The gates had opened and passengers swarmed to board the Eurostar train. Being my courteous self I let a mature English couple pass ahead up the escalators. Thinking they would look at me in disgrace, the chap turned round to thank me and smiled. I was so chuffed and felt like an included member of society. Trying to find my carriage, I couldn’t help but wonder if the closer I was getting back to London, the more I was feeling an increasing sense of acceptance in my hijab. According to Mr Browne, we have a “proud record” in the country of defending freedom of religious choice and the rights of religious minorities. Are the Belgians and French then just a bunch of bigoted racists? Comparatively we are a fair, tolerable nation and the state does play its role in protecting peoples’ individual liberty. I sat down and could not believe my luck when I met with a few friendly smiles.
Back on UK soil and feeling irritated by the experience, I hurried to the nearest toilets and striped off my Muslim gear. Feeling free, I was so relieved to see me in the mirror again. As daunting as it was, I have a newfound respect for the women who choose to wear the niqab. Religious dress should not be interfered with by the state; nor should the workings of the state be interfered with by the wearing of religious garments. It’s not what our country stands for. If the matter is one of security and identity then the anonymity afforded by religious dress should not be permitted. In every other aspect it should be individual discretion to allow people to dress according to their personal wishes.
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