It's Not About the Burqa: Muslim Women on Faith, Feminism, Sexuality and Race

by Mariam Khan

say fuck because I am not supposed to. I say fuck because I believe that the crimes of racism, bigotry and misogyny – enabled and protected by patriarchy – are more profane than swear words.

We must jump off that see-saw because neither of its sides cares about us.

We are the ones we have been waiting for.

Khadija is known to Muslims as the Mother of Believers for her position as the Prophet’s first wife. She also holds the title of First Muslim as she was the first person to accept the Prophet’s message of the One Merciful God. But what fascinated me about Khadija had nothing to do with her role as a wife and mother. It was her professional life and business acumen

Within that tribe, Khadija was a successful businesswoman. Actually, let’s not talk down her achievements. She was the wealthiest merchant in Mecca, and was known as Al-Tahira, the Pure One, for her honesty and integrity.

I wish I had known at the time that the person credited for founding the oldest existing, first degree-awarding educational institution in the world, the University of Al Quaraouiyine in Fes, Morocco, in the year 859, was a Muslim woman. Alas, I did not know about the founder Fatima Al-Fihri and

Above all, Khadija taught me that I had every right to exist as I chose.

Representation of Muslim women flip-flops between fitting a stereotype or breaking one, not the middle ground where most of us are.

So for Muslim women the default within both the Muslim communities and ‘mainstream’ communities is something they can never be: male.

We of course often refer to ourselves as one ummah, one body, but this shouldn’t be taken to mean that we are all the same without variations in practices and ideas. Therefore, in order for Muslim women to thrive in our current climate, we need to start from a point at which the default, if we must have one, is inclusive and mindful of the many intersections that exist, not predicated on white males being the standard.

even in 2018 we saw headlines like ‘More people called David and Steve lead FTSE 100 companies than women and ethnic minorities’.4

It wasn’t the fact that I was now seeing Muslim women everywhere that unsettled me. It was that it seemed as though representation within a secular system with the primary purpose to make money for large companies had been held up as the solution to racism, to othering and to ignorance.

Thinking about how Muslim women were temporarily being cast made me realize that the whole representation process often employs the short-term labour of minorities, and I can’t help but compare this representation frenzy to a puppet show in which we are not permitted to construct ourselves on our own terms.

Was it just that it all felt a little disingenuous to be pushing an aesthetic, when that was being confused with pushing the values of Islam and the opinions and identities of Muslim women?

message was clear: We want your hijabs but we don’t want your thoughts; we only want diversity for the pictures.

As a member of a minority she had terms and conditions to her free speech.8

But seeing the likes of Fatima Manji on Channel 4 reporting the news or Nadiya Hussain with her own cooking show on the BBC should not lure us into the false belief that now everyone can make it because ‘they did’, and if you can’t it is not down to the structure and the process, it is down to individual action.

Foster draws on a study which shows that, when companies hired individuals from minority backgrounds who were then in a position to hire, they were in fact less likely to hire other people from minority backgrounds as it was detrimental to their own credibility and standing.

But there is a bigger issue at hand, and it is to do with the brands seeming to cater to Muslim needs: Muslims are only seen as worthy when we are producing wealth.

We will have halal nail varnish, we will have a Muslim family in a Tesco Christmas advert and an imam in an Amazon advert, because the outcome is wealth generation. But when the outcome is real equality, real inclusiveness, or meaningful in any way, we are no longer permitted at the table.

For me, the diverse nature of Muslim communities ultimately means there will never be one figure we’d be happy to see representing us. Representation will always come in bits and pieces, and those representing will not all look like me or be cut from the same cloth.

It increasingly feels as though the representation of Muslims has been relegated to an identity devoid of faith.

Suddenly the Conservative Party was apparently being absolved of Islamophobia by a man who had previously been on record saying he was not a practicing Muslim.

And let’s not forget, stripping the faith out of Muslim identity is also why brands feel that they can muscle in and represent Muslims, as well as have an influence on what Muslim identity should look like.

To me, being Muslim is steeped in my faith and practice of Islam; to someone else it may be found in their cultural background, or it may be a political statement, or just something that comes to light twice a year at the Eid celebrations.

What we once wore as an affirmation of our faith, as an act of submission to God, has become excessively politicized and has come to represent far more than religious observance.

We wanted to see better representation, but when we got it we didn’t use it in the right ways. We should have forced the focus onto politics, economics, how to improve our parent countries, how to ameliorate the concerns of the working classes in Britain, how to address the attainment gap in education, how to break down the ‘Muslim penalty’ in the labour market, how to address domestic violence in pockets of different communities. Instead we lobbied, and then we settled.

As we have fought vehemently not to be regarded as a homogeneous group or monolith, we have forgotten that there is still a standard that we need to live up to. We’ve allowed Islam to be reduced to ‘what Muslims do’ as opposed to Islam being submission to God.

I worry that we’ve contributed to this dichotomy of the fashionable, modern, ‘liberal’ Muslim woman, versus a supposedly regressive, traditional, ‘conservative’ Muslim woman.

the models on those catwalks are not Muslim, the designers are not Muslim, and even the audience present is not Muslim. Similarly, basic Islamic ethics are going ignored; brands continue to exploit individuals working in sweatshops around the world, paying them abhorrent amounts for long and unjustifiable working hours; up-and-coming Muslim designers are not empowered or raised up, nor are they employed to design ‘Muslim-friendly’ attire (because let’s face it, modest doesn’t automatically mean Muslim and vice versa). So no, I don’t take kindly to my religion and ideology being co-opted and appropriated as a money-making scheme.

rather it has fetishized the hijab and taken away from its true meaning.

We’ve forgotten that the hijab is not supposed to be a fashion statement or an expression of choice and freedoms to appease a secular-liberal audience; hijab was and is supposed to be an expression of faith and Muslim identity

The hijab being reduced to a simple head covering – a fashion statement before it is an act of observance

I loved my religion and I hated those who were making me question its beauty. My own choice to wear the hijab had been politicized and commercialized to the point where I didn’t know what to do, and for this I blame an industry that consumes women, creating insecurities where there were none.

was once argued that we were slaves of the East, subjugated and dominated by the patriarchy, needing liberation and a saviour, but we have since become slaves of the Western fashion world, bound by the shackles of beauty, sexuality, and a desperate need for acceptance.

The space we are allowed to take up is so limited, it leaves little room for the ribbons of our voices to unfurl.

these techniques help with coping (they help the engineer – me – feel better about the situation), but rarely change long-term behaviour in any substantive manner.

had yet to entertain the thought that I should never need to earn my equality. I was starting from a basis of believing that I needed to earn my right to be seen as equal.

I was lucky compared to a lot of other Muslims who suffer with mental illness. I had received a relatively secular education in regard to mental health, and so, after talking to friends who confided in me about their own diagnoses, I eventually went to the doctor.

I was struck by the overwhelming prevalence of one single idea: that you could not be Muslim and depressed, because a true Muslim would be content with what God had planned for them.

Muslims are often afraid that they may experience Islamophobia when seeing non-Muslim therapists and practitioners, particularly because that therapist may not understand the role of faith as either part of their problem or part of the possible solution.

mental health needs to be taken seriously in the Muslim community – because there is an increase in conditions exacerbated by societal factors. The need for faith and culturally specific mental health support is increasingly important.

A frequent sentiment we hear in regard to mental health issues from many in the Muslim community is that someone is experiencing depression, or suicidal thoughts, because their faith is low. They are not praying enough, or they are being ungrateful and not thinking about how lucky they are compared to other people around the world – the ‘well, you cannot be sad because other people have it worse’ argument. Not only are these arguments dangerous, but they are also invalid in Islam.

So, Islam encourages us to take both practical and spiritual approaches to problems.

My imam was right. The sentiment that mental health issues stem from a lack of faith is in fact both incompatible with Islamic thought and practices, and historically inaccurate. Muslims have a rich history in contributing to psychology, or, as it is often referred to in Islamic thought, ilm an-nafs, which translates as the knowledge or science of the self.

for some Muslims with mental health issues, it can be a daily struggle. To find the motivation to pray – or to do anything – can be difficult when you are suffering from mental illness. But when other Muslims see that you are not praying, regardless of the reason, they can be extremely judgemental.

But my mental illness does not define me. It might change my mood at times, but it does not change who I am, and, most importantly, it does not make me a bad person, especially in the eyes of God.

Islam is a religion that empowers women. And yet, for many young Muslim girls, their understanding of Islam comes entirely from a series of cultural interpretations of their faith dictated by the patriarchy.

the first time many Muslim girls in the West will encounter female empowerment is likely to be from a White Feminist perspective. But there is a problem. This perspective disapproves of the hijab, the burqa, modest culture and other key elements of the Muslim female identity.

White Feminism (which is still the mainstream) centres the agenda and needs of white, straight, middle-class, cis, able-bodied women while making claims that it speaks on behalf of all women.