As France’s highest court today issues a temporary suspension on the burkini ban following shocking pictures of armed police demanding a woman remove her full body cover on Villeneuve-Loubet beach, writer Ayisha Malik, who as a Muslim wears a headscarf, gives her take on one of the most controversial stories of the week...
These past few days you can’t scroll through social media without seeing the #BurkiniBan hashtag, accompanied by a picture of a woman being forced by armed police to take off her clothes – all in the name of freedom and social cohesion. I guess the French aren’t into irony. I have Burkini Ban fatigue. My friends are outraged and exhausted. ‘Can we stop having to speak about a piece of cloth?’ ‘This is our time to be heard!’ ‘Why does our voice only count when it’s about what we wear? Can’t we talk about what’s happening to the Human Rights Act? Or like... other stuff?’
Of course, the Burkini Ban is part of what constitutes a woman’s right to choose. It is a Human Rights issue. The furore surrounding the discussion diminishes my spirit and buoys it at the same time. In all the outrage – though the ever-galvanised feminists in the West, bar a few, seem to be on a tea-break – there is a subtle pride that we in Britain are so respectful of each other’s beliefs that such a thing could never happen here.
The protest outside the French embassy where women from all backgrounds came together to display their indignation while simultaneously relaxing on the sand (because we Brits are into irony) showed what unity is. Not to mention that Scotland Yard has officially made the hijab a part of its uniform. I had tears in my eyes when I read that. Phew. We are safe. France might only be a few hours away but when it comes to respect and tolerance it might as well be floating around near Saudi
Feelings simmer though. They cross oceans and I’d be lying if I said I don’t wonder what people think of me when I walk down the street – all hijabbed up and scurrying around to look for places to pray. If I’m on a train I often ask the person I’m sitting with if they mind. I’ve not had any trouble yet, but I wonder when I might.
I’ve read copious comments on how if we want to live in the West we should follow Western values. If someone could give me a blueprint for these, I’d happily oblige. But here was a blueprint. Because whatever else can be said, this woman went on a beach, clad in Islamic dress, knowing that she was breaking the law. This got me thinking; however abhorrent the actions of the police were, however nauseous I felt, watching this poor lady have to strip off her clothes, she was, essentially in the wrong. You abide by the laws of the land in which you live. This is a tenet of Islam.
The truth is France isn’t floating around near Saudi. It is our neighbour. When there’s an attack there we feel it all the more keenly. Wouldn’t you go to your neighbour’s house to offer sympathy, while also fearing if your house might be the next target? Ideas of how Muslims should integrate are already in the British psyche – how long until it crosses into our waters, making its way into law? Like it or not there are rules now in France. We’ll protest and condemn, but we ultimately have to abide by it.
Except if I found myself on that beach in Nice, because just for a minute I wanted to feel the sand beneath my toes, or the cool of the sea, like the lady in a hijab and tunic – and if I had no children with me – I’d have gladly gone to jail rather than be bullied by a man. (It is always a man, looming over you, telling you what is and isn’t appropriate.) It’d be preferable to the humiliation of peeling back each layer of clothing, only to expose another layer of humiliation. The saddest part of this would be, that my neighbour and law-maker, in the name of upholding freedom would not only be taking my freedom away, but would be turning me into the very lawbreaker they claim to be resisting.