Noli Irritare Leones

Fatemeh at Racialicious is offended (as are some others) at Danielle Crittenden’s “Islamic Like Me” posts.

So Ms. Crittenden decides to put on a niqab…for what? For giggles? She never really explains her reasons for doing so, but makes it very apparent that wearing a niqab is a bad idea because it’s “oppressive”. Does she want to see what it’s like to be a Muslim woman who wears niqab? Does she want to understand the prejudice that these women face?

No. After reading her posts, it’s obvious she just wants to play dress-up. She doesn’t attempt to adhere to any principles of Islam while wearing the niqab, nor does she take it off in her home like most niqabis would, nor does she even attempt to start a dialogue with any Muslim women—niqabis or not.

…

For what it’s worth, I did a similar experiment six years ago. I did it for somewhat different reasons from Crittenden, and followed different rules. Crittenden’s interest seems to be showing the ways in which the veil is confining and oppressive to women, and she picks a particularly conservative version, full niqab with just eye slits. I was taking part in an expression of solidarity with Muslim women in this country who might be experiencing hostility in the wake of 9/11; it was a sort of semi-organized Quaker activity that spread by word of mouth and email at the time. And, unlike Crittenden, I picked the least conservative possible veiling option – a head scarf (which I removed around the house). Anyway, I’ve saved what I wrote about my experience at the time. It’s chock full of people’s names, so I’ll remove them and pseudonym most people, except for Anthony Manousos, my husband, and public figures. Here you have the three days of my veiling (mostly post-9/11 slice of life, on which the head scarf proved not to have much effect):

First day of Eid-ul-Fitr/Third Sunday in Advent, 2001

I start the day by reading email. On one of the Quaker lists I follow, Greg has posted a link to a story about a friend of his from some Meeting on the East Coast; this man is giving up his kidney to a stranger out of sheer altruism. I wonder whether I could be so altruistic, and decide not. The man, who renamed himself Alyosha for the character in The Brothers Karamazov, evidently devotes much of his life to good deeds of one kind or another. I next check the news; troops have the last El Qaida stronghold in Pakistan surrounded, but Osama Bin Laden’s whereabouts are uncertain. DAWN reports on mounting tensions between India and Pakistan, as India blames Pakistan’s intelligence agencies for an armed attack on Delhi’s Parliament House. I check out Andrew Greeley’s column in the Chicago Sun Times, which proves today to be about Christmas, and continuing to affirm life in the midst of the current world troubles.

Today, Monday, and Tuesday, according to an email that was forwarded to my Meeting’s mailing list, there is an organized effort to get women to wear scarves on their heads, in solidarity with Muslim women. I first attempt to see if I can put together a very conservative outfit, on the theory that if I am supposed to be expressing solidarity with Muslim women, I should look somewhat Muslim in my dress. I quickly conclude that I cannot wear clothes which match, are mended, are clean, and both have a skirt that goes below the knee and a long-sleeved shirt. So I decide to abandon any attempt at matching what I think Islam would have me wear, and opt for the skirt which stops just above the knee. As I drive to Meeting, and as I walk the few blocks from where I park to the Meetinghouse, in the largely Hispanic neighborhood where we meet, no one pays much attention to my head covering. It turns out, when I get to Meeting, that no one else has remembered about the scarves, but two women have things handy which will do, and promptly cover their heads.

At Meeting for Worship, I first read a copy of the Prayer of St. Francis that I have brought with me, and then settle into a meditation from _Sadhana: a Way to God_, a book of “Christian exercises in Eastern form” by a Jesuit from India (complete with imprimatur, this book did get approved by a bishop – sometimes the Catholic Church can be quite flexible). Several people are moved to speak about experiences with unconditional love. After Meeting, someone announces that Anthony Manousos has just spent Ramadan fasting and reading the Quran, and will be speaking to meetings about his experiences.

This afternoon, we have the Meeting Christmas party, so I head straight home to fetch Joel, who has been cooking paella to bring, and is downloading directions from the Internet to his PDA. We put the first ornaments on our tree: a Virgin of Guadalupe ornament and a Martin de Porres ornament. While I wait for the directions to download, I read some Thomas Merton.

The Meeting Christmas party begins with a posada, in which all the Meeting children who are attending the party, and a few of us adults, go from door to door in the house, singing a song about how we are pilgrims, and announcing at each door that we are tired and need a place to stay and food. Jenny turns us away for not having reservations, Dana hams up her bad guy role by remarking about our dirty feet, Kate turns us away matter of factly, and at the fifth door we are actually let in. During lunch, we are seated with Sally and Sita, and Joel and Sita get into an intense discussion first about Islam and then about Jainism (Sita being a Jain from India).

We go home, finish decorating the tree (with special attention on Joel’s part to the Christmas pickle), wrap presents, and I mail them, still wearing the scarf. Jenny had said that wearing the scarf is partly consciousness raising for the person wearing it. One woman, who took to wearing a scarf every day, in Palo Alto, reported hostility from some people, and gratitude from Muslims. I, however, as far as I can tell, meet only indifference. Maybe it’s the wind, a biting cold by Southern California standards, or maybe I’m simply encountering my community’s tolerant side, rather than whatever bigots may be around. Either way, the only inhibition I feel from the scarf comes from myself. As I pass the rack of women’s magazines, which I’d normally browse, I give them a pass, lest some passerby feel the cover of what I am looking at is too sexy for my attire.

Back at home, I call Mom, and we discuss mostly family matters – how my job is going, after the layoff at my company, my brother’s company coming out of bankruptcy, how my niece is starting to sing along with her tapes of children’s songs, including the Japanese one. As every conversation these days turns toward world affairs, we also discuss the Osama Bin Laden tape, whose transcript I have read, and she has not. This tape is indeed odd, with its stories of prophetic dreams various people are supposed to have had of the WTC destruction, Osama Bin Laden’s fear that the secret was going to get out by people dreaming it, and a striking lack of understanding of the US (we are, for example, supposed to have been afraid of a coup on September 11 – as if the thought of a coup ever crossed any American’s mind).

I put on the Christmas music – Rumanian carols, German carols, a kind of a Motown version of Christmas carols, and light the Advent candles.

Online, I look at Tikkun, and read a few articles about the mounting violence in Israel and Palestine. An editorial speaks about affirming life in a way that reminds me of the Andrew Greeley column in the morning. I look at the news. The siege at Tora Bora is over, and Osama Bin Laden is still missing.

Just another Sunday as the war draws to a close, or is it just a close to this phase of a larger war? At this point, we don’t know what our government’s next move may be; it could be anything from law enforcement and trying to dry up funds to an attack on Iraq. Naturally I hope for the former, and not the latter.

Monday

I meant to write more about wearing the scarf, but my experience of the scarf continues to be much the same as on Sunday. I am ignored. I don’t feel easy wearing it at work, particularly since the only Muslim women I’ve known at work, Fatima and Aisha, don’t cover their hair at all.

At work, I attend mostly to driver issues, one of which involves working with someone in Germany, and the other advising people in India. During a break, Malcolm, Nikos, Ali and I exchange travel stories. Ali was pulled aside for extra checking when returning from Germany; there was a rumor around the company that he was stuck in Germany. This is false; actually it is Jeevan who is stuck in India, having left the US and encountered visa issues getting back in. Nikos tells about travelling, in his younger days and at the time of the Iran hostage crisis, with a beard and an army jacket, and encountering suspicion. Stories are traded about security in Arab countries. I tell about my sister’s adventure being stuck in Bulgaria, and Joel’s and my travels in former Yugoslavia in 1992.

In the evening I relax and listen to Joel read to me about different angels, while I look up the relevant Bible passages for him.

Tuesday

Since I only wear the scarf driving to work, there’s not much to report on that front. But I do find, on the Beliefnet Web site, a Muslim I can read with enthusiasm: Farid Esack. He first catches my eye for his comments on Osama Bin Laden’s tape; I like him for the real anger he expresses toward Bin Laden’s perversion of Islam. I like him still better when I read his home page. A Muslim from South Africa, Farid Esack promotes a kind of Muslim liberation theology. He is feminist, and concerned about social justice.

In the evening, we have our Christmas celebration with Joel’s mother; she comes over, we take her out to dinner, exchange presents, watch “The Fantastics” together on our VCR, and she spends the night.

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 13th, 2007 at 6:30 am and is filed under Daily Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.