BURQA and I
Thursday, 8 April 2010
Wasima Wali
"Would you please take it off, now?" my husband said.
"But we are still at the airport," I replied softly, getting ready to board the plane from Jeddah to Dubai. "Are you sure? I don't mind wearing it till we reach Dubai. I do not want to get into trouble with the Saudies, you know. They have strict rules."
Even as I answered, I was already visualising the men walking toward me in their dishdashas -- the handcuffs they were carrying even had my name written all over them. Somehow, in my imagination, they were getting pleasure from the fact that we are Americans.
I mumbled, "I hear some Saudies take their burqas off when they arrive at the Dubai airport, especially the young girls you know." "Why is this a topic of discussion? I simply do not understand," said my husband without whom this journey from Colorado to the Middle East would have been impossible.
I would have been prohibited from entering Saudi Arabia, let alone performing this religious ritual (umrah) with my mom and without a man. And not just any man, but a close relative such as a husband, father, or brother.
As I headed for the bathroom, a woman -- fully covered herself, with to-die-for eye make-up -- whispered, "It's okay, you are safe to take it off now. Anyway it would be fine, since you are not married to a Saudi." The blessing word somehow turned into "honey." Meaning, I felt blessed not to be married to a Saudi.
As I slowly tried unbuttoning my 'abaya', a sudden feel of liberation took over. I started to feel the softness of Alladin's magic rug beneath me as I floated away. I had on a full pair of black slacks, knee-highs and a full-sleeved, very loose shirt with a scarf -- and I still felt bare in this country of covered women!
"Why is it that I feel naked"? I kept asking myself. It's the concept, you see. I felt free, even as the feeling of shame took over.
I have never had anything against Saudi Arabia, but I do resent their rules and regulations. And yet … when I was wearing my burqa, my personality changed. I was more subdued and mellow. It made me feel less in control, less human. When men spoke, their voices sounded harsh. Wearing the burqa made me fear my husband. The word "oppression" suddenly gained a greater meaning.
But there was a hidden beauty. All the women around me were the same. I was not aware of the socio-economic differences. Everyone was equally covered and maintained. There was something in the concept that appealed to me.
Today, I sit here and wonder why Nicolas Sarkozy, the populist president of France, is so much in favour of banning the burqa. It is a secular state, after all. I wonder if one thing gets banned today, would something else get banned tomorrow? Sarkozy may be afraid that France is taking one step toward becoming "Islamized," or maybe there is a top secret mission between France and the US that we do not know about (wink wink). The news today regarding Sarkozy and his comments somehow gave me goosebumps and brought back my Saudi memories.
Is it the security issue? We would never know what or who is hiding behind those burqas! But would he have tried to ban the gowns worn by the Christian clerics, had they tried to cover their faces as well? I wonder. But then I had my answer, Why should he? The Christian clerics and the Buddhist monks are not the general population, and they do not cover their faces.
Being a woman of this century, this debate is very interesting to me. Even more so because I am a mother of two American-born girls -- and really, they are my precious cargos.
All I know is, that if the security of my daughters were at stake underneath those burqas, I would ban them too!… AMEN
"Would you please take it off, now?" my husband said.
"But we are still at the airport," I replied softly, getting ready to board the plane from Jeddah to Dubai. "Are you sure? I don't mind wearing it till we reach Dubai. I do not want to get into trouble with the Saudies, you know. They have strict rules."
Even as I answered, I was already visualising the men walking toward me in their dishdashas -- the handcuffs they were carrying even had my name written all over them. Somehow, in my imagination, they were getting pleasure from the fact that we are Americans.
I mumbled, "I hear some Saudies take their burqas off when they arrive at the Dubai airport, especially the young girls you know." "Why is this a topic of discussion? I simply do not understand," said my husband without whom this journey from Colorado to the Middle East would have been impossible.
I would have been prohibited from entering Saudi Arabia, let alone performing this religious ritual (umrah) with my mom and without a man. And not just any man, but a close relative such as a husband, father, or brother.
As I headed for the bathroom, a woman -- fully covered herself, with to-die-for eye make-up -- whispered, "It's okay, you are safe to take it off now. Anyway it would be fine, since you are not married to a Saudi." The blessing word somehow turned into "honey." Meaning, I felt blessed not to be married to a Saudi.
As I slowly tried unbuttoning my 'abaya', a sudden feel of liberation took over. I started to feel the softness of Alladin's magic rug beneath me as I floated away. I had on a full pair of black slacks, knee-highs and a full-sleeved, very loose shirt with a scarf -- and I still felt bare in this country of covered women!
"Why is it that I feel naked"? I kept asking myself. It's the concept, you see. I felt free, even as the feeling of shame took over.
I have never had anything against Saudi Arabia, but I do resent their rules and regulations. And yet … when I was wearing my burqa, my personality changed. I was more subdued and mellow. It made me feel less in control, less human. When men spoke, their voices sounded harsh. Wearing the burqa made me fear my husband. The word "oppression" suddenly gained a greater meaning.
But there was a hidden beauty. All the women around me were the same. I was not aware of the socio-economic differences. Everyone was equally covered and maintained. There was something in the concept that appealed to me.
Today, I sit here and wonder why Nicolas Sarkozy, the populist president of France, is so much in favour of banning the burqa. It is a secular state, after all. I wonder if one thing gets banned today, would something else get banned tomorrow? Sarkozy may be afraid that France is taking one step toward becoming "Islamized," or maybe there is a top secret mission between France and the US that we do not know about (wink wink). The news today regarding Sarkozy and his comments somehow gave me goosebumps and brought back my Saudi memories.
Is it the security issue? We would never know what or who is hiding behind those burqas! But would he have tried to ban the gowns worn by the Christian clerics, had they tried to cover their faces as well? I wonder. But then I had my answer, Why should he? The Christian clerics and the Buddhist monks are not the general population, and they do not cover their faces.
Being a woman of this century, this debate is very interesting to me. Even more so because I am a mother of two American-born girls -- and really, they are my precious cargos.
All I know is, that if the security of my daughters were at stake underneath those burqas, I would ban them too!… AMEN