Express Yourself

I’ve been intrigued by the controversy surrounding the hijab. Short history lesson: Since the formation of the Turkish republic, in all public institutions throughout Turkey headscarves (along with beards and other such religious regalia) are banned. When the AKP government voted in favor of a constitutional admendment to lift the ban, protesters came out in droves. Many feared that the AKP government had a covert agenda and allowing headscarves in school would be the first step down a slippery slope toward Islamic fundamentalism. For many, this change was not just about allowing women to wear the veil at university, but an indication of the slow erosion of the foundations of secularism put in place by Ataturk that would continue AKP leadership until Turkey looked more like Saudia Arabia than the progressive, (mostly) westernized nation that it is. The nation waited with bated breath as the decision was pending. Just recently the Constitutional Courts annulled the amendment, and thus the ban will indeed remain intact.

So that’s what’s happening out there. This is what is happening with me.
I chaperoned a group of students to Athens, where my darling proteges participated in the Harvard Model Congress Conference. Students from international schools around Europe and the Middle East (and perhaps future world leaders) convened to discuss real world issues and learn to deal with crises better than their predecessors in hopes of cultivating global awareness. During our first mixer, one of my students discovered she was paired with a Saudi girl during her committee sessions.
“Ms. Saaaalaaaario,” she said (yes, with that intonation.) I met my partner. She’s closed.”
“What do you mean she’s closed?”
“You know, she wears the turban on her head.”

My student stated this as though we shared some secret, as if I should be able to read an entire social critique into her one statement. I was slightly taken aback, but not surprised. I’ve had students tell me they hate Arabs without a a trace of shame. Although I do not agree with their disdain, I can understand it. Coming from the secular elite of Muslim nation that gets a bad rap merely because of its religious background and geographical location, their fear is legitimate. When you fear that something precious you haven’t always had is going to be taken away from you (democracy and secularism), you hold on all the more tightly.
My student’s translation error was telling. Her partner was covered physically, and therefore she was closed. Closed off. A dead end. Written off. Obfuscated from view. Invisible.

I cannot pretend to know the disdain or animosity some women who wear the hijab may face. I do, however, know the disdain and discomfort from the perspective of someone who is not.

Now. One could argue that if a woman dresses provocatively, men will stare. One could also argue that some men will not just stare, but call, whistle, and grab no matter how a woman is dressed . One could further argue that provocative is a relative term, and depending on the weather, the context, and the season’s fashionable hemline (amongst other factors) one person’s sophisticated might be another’s skanky. Wherever you stand on the provocative continuum, let me make one things clear: a woman’s appearance is never basis for judgement that she is asking for it or that she is a whore (Russian prostitutes not included). In the secular, non-hijab wearing sectors of the city I tend to frequent, fashion sense is very Western but very different (take those god-awful hair extensions and animal prints for instance). Yet in the fluidity of common public spaces – on the busses, in the Uğur center, walking down the street in particular areas of the city, it is hard to escape from the disapproving (or perhaps just curious) gaze of strangers when I am wearing something that might, perhaps , maybe, be construed as provocative. Or, sometimes, even when I’m not. Just when I think I am safe from offending someone, just when I spot a woman in a halter top or leopard skinned hot pants (I kid you not) I find myself uncomfortable. It might be when I am running. It might be when I am wearing a strappy tank top on a boiling day. It might be for no reason at all. Not that I can’t wear whatever I please, and not that there aren’t countless other women in this city who wear tight or revealing clothing. Its just that I noticed the way I am perceived in ways I did not notice before, and sometimes I feel myself withering under the stares of strangers as if I have done something shameful and wrong, and sometimes I find myself very, very uncomfortable.

I tell myself, who cares what other people think? I write these feelings off to extreme self-consciousness and hyper-sensitivity. It is the cultural standards by which I am judged that have changed, not I. So why should I feel anything but secure in how I choose to present myself? And what difference does it make that all this is happening within a society where I coexist peacefully with my headscarved counterparts? I wonder. I wonder if because there is a concentration of women who are covered from head to wrist to ankle, the modestly bar is set higher. What is socially acceptable in a place where covered women are a small minority suddenly becomes slightly risque in a place where they comprise a sizable chunk of the population. So on occasion, if my bra strap is visible (gasp!) or I reveal a few centimeters of cleavage, I can see how it suddenly becomes not okay. And I can see how a teenager in a short dress and a bouncy ponytail might feel uncomfortable if her partner is closed.