![Nadeine Asbali](/sites/default/files/styles/image_72x72/public/2022-04/download.jpg?h=5bf87a8e&itok=e0PWsQW3)
France abaya ban in schools: Racism & double standards about women’s rights
When protests erupted throughout Iran and women removed their hijabs in opposition to the state’s dogmatic, violent application of modesty laws, the western world stood up.
High profile feminists posted videos of themselves crying for the women of Iran. European celebrities shaved their heads in solidarity. Women burned headscarves on TikTok and in public places. Think pieces and essay-like Instagram captions sprung up all over the internet: anyone who cared about women’s rights had something to say about Iran.
But very recently, another state passed a similar law - one that also concerns itself with the specifics of how a woman dresses. The French government has banned the abaya in state schools - in recent days even turning away students in droves who come to school in Muslim dress.
''My own relationship with feminism is complicated for this very reason, but there is no doubt about it: this is a feminist issue at heart. It is part of a wider, ever-more alarming trend of the erosion of women’s bodily rights across the globe. Abortion bans, prosecuting women for losing pregnancies, hijab mandates and abaya bans all conspire to do one thing: to control women - our decisions, our freedoms and our very biology.''
I could talk about how this legislation that also controls women’s bodies and dictates how much of it is allowed to be on show replicates the exact same state misogyny as Iran’s. I could mention how this is the latest in a long line of crackdowns on the way Muslim women dress in France - part of the way the French government perpetuates, embeds and normalises islamophobia in the name of secularism. From the hijab prohibition in public buildings of 2004 to a nationwide niqab ban in 2010, to burkinis being outlawed in an increasing number of provinces over the last few years.
But it is the global reaction to this abaya ban that has been most shocking of all. And when I say global reaction, I mean lack thereof.
Perhaps it’s because, this time, it wasn’t a Muslim government dictating women’s choices. After all, France is part of the enlightened, progressive (read: superior) Western world rather than some backwards Middle Eastern nation associated with war and oppression. Or maybe it’s that this particular misogynistic rule was enacted by white men in suits under the banner of liberty rather than angry, brown, bearded men following regressive religious standards.
Whatever the reason, the silence is deafening. Where there was global moral outrage in Iran’s case - both on a personal and a broader political level - this time, there is nothing but tumbleweeds. Where are the influencers wearing their best maxi dresses in solidarity for the Muslim women impacted by this ban in France? Where are the celebrities vowing to boycott France in protest of this erosion of women’s rights?
The fact is, the world has drawn a blank in the case of France because feminism - or at least its (dominantly white) Western iteration - has a massive problem when it comes to Muslim women.
When rejection of patriarchal norms is seen in black and white - with covering one’s body equalling misogyny and uncovering it automatically meaning liberation, there is frankly no room for Muslim women like me who choose to cover ourselves. By default, we defy the rigid binaries that western feminism creates. And so our struggle to defy the state in order to cover isn’t really considered a worthy struggle at all - definitely not in the same way as women fighting hijab mandates is.
Ultimately this comes down to how, as Muslim women, we are stripped of agency to such an extent that our actions are never truly considered our own. Racism, islamophobia and white feminism combine to portray Muslim women as perpetually oppressed: controlled by some patriarchal deity or under the influence of internalised misogyny. If society doesn’t even consider us sovereign enough to make our own decisions, then it’s little wonder that nobody rushes to defend them once they’re stripped away by the state.
My own relationship with feminism is complicated for this very reason, but there is no doubt about it: this is a feminist issue at heart. It is part of a wider, ever-more alarming trend of the erosion of women’s bodily rights across the globe. Abortion bans, prosecuting women for losing pregnancies, hijab mandates and abaya bans all conspire to do one thing: to control women - our decisions, our freedoms and our very biology.
Regardless of your own personal opinion on the abaya as a garment, dig a little into this ban and the hypocrisy, ridiculousness and sheer racism of it is laid bare. How does one determine what is a maxi dress and what is an abaya without simply inspecting how “Muslim” its wearer looks to be? And if the illegality of the garment depends on who wears it then what is that other than undeniable islamophobia?
What’s more, if equality is the prevailing concern, then how does turning away countless girls from school ensure equality? All it does is place an already structurally disenfranchised group at further disadvantage, forcing them to forfeit their rights and freedoms in order to access an education. To not speak up about girls being inflicted with this impossible and reductive choice speaks to how little Western feminism offers to Muslim women.
If your feminism is ignited at the sight of women removing hijabs but remains unmoved when the same Muslim women choose to cover themselves, then your feminism is serving nobody other than white women. And as the world remains in static silence about France’s continued crackdown on Muslim women’s bodies, it’s time we asked ourselves why we view some women’s choices more worthy of support than others.
Nadeine Asbali is a secondary school teacher in London.
Follow her on Twitter: @najourno
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