Visibility

In truth, I am not as concerned with a political decision as I am with its social consequences. I do not think the pressure to annul the amendment to lift the headscarf ban comes exclusively from high ranking officials. Despite orbiting in the same social spheres, the worlds of hijab and non-hijab wearing women at times seem light years apart. When they collide a powerful chain of events is set off.

For example: What if a women arbitrarily decided to talk her headscarf off? Suddenly, would she not be as “pure” in the eyes of her boyfriend? Would he then feel pressure from his friends (whose girlfriends are covered) to find someone more chaste? Would the aforementioned woman then feel pressure to put her headscarf back on if she couldn't find a boyfriend? Or would she then have to date secular men who, despite her free-flowing hair, would probably not find her secular enough? The middle ground keeps shifting until there seems that no one can find a solid stance.


This sort of hypothetical scenario belies the hard facts: that with economic changes and migration from Anatolia to Western Turkey, more religious women are able to enter University. Some feel the message underlying the ban is that if women are going to adhere to religious rules like covering their head, then perhaps they should stick to other traditional female roles – like staying at home.

Of course, I have my opinions. I observe. I listen. But for all this, I have never once heard what a hijab wearing woman thinks about the controversy. What she feels when people assume she is covering her head to make a political statement, or what she wants for her country. So I arranged to speak with three hijab-wearing students on the cusp of their university graduation. They were enrolled in a teacher education program, and therefore confronted with a difficult decision. We sat down in the living room of one of their professors. I immediately learned that all three of the woman I spoke with opted to remove their hijabs during their practice teaching and during courses required by professors, but otherwise they do not take them off in public under any circumstances.

Although the three girls varied in their English speaking abilities and candidness, they were uniformly clear and articulate in their opinions and self-awareness. I asked them point blank why they wore the hijab. The short answer they all gave me is that it is God’s wish according to the Koran. The long answer is that women are created differently than men. We are completely different creatures, they told me. Women are special and sacred, and like precious diamonds they must be protected. Even me? I asked, my unruly curls feeling heavy on my head. Yes, regardless of wearing the hijab, I would still be considered sacred on account of my gender. They all chose to wear the hijab of their own volition post-high school.

We discussed light topics: the “fashion” of the veil. Some, usually older women, wear their scarves tied beneath their neck like a kerchief. Others wear it wrapped around their entire head and secured with a pin, along with a thick black headband underneath to secure the hair in place. The young ladies told me that the difference were a matter of fashion, although the latter look is generally associated with the more observant. Surprisingly, they said some women choose to wear the veil because they believe they look more attractive with their heads covered, not out of religious devotion. This, along with veiled women who wear makeup, seemed ridiculous and contradictory to the women I spoke with.


We discussed heavy topics: the girls were horrified at the thought of Turkey becoming another Saudi Arabia, where women are forcibly made to wear the hijab. They merely want to have the options they believe should be availabe to them in a democracy. "I do not insist that other women wear one, so why should others insist that I take mine off? Is it fair?" One of the girls politely asked me.


Orhan Pamuk wrote that in other countries, it is an act of rebellion to take the headscarf off, but in Turkey, it is an act of radical rebellion to put it on. When I asked the girls why they were willing to go sans headscarves for their practice teaching, they seemed resolute in their answer: Someone needs to be first and make sacrifices, and then down the line maybe girls will be allowed to teach with them on. They insisted they were not wearing the hijab for political purposes, although they understood the political implications of their decision. These women did not see religion as antithetical to progress; rather the two went hand in hand. One girl quoted Mohammad, saying that religion and technological advancements are like two wings of a bird: it cannot fly with only one. They needed to do what they are doing so that perhaps it might be easier for others in the future. They needed to make themselves visible at University, so that in the future, they don't completely disappear.