The Burkini: A Veil of Confusion

My mother died from Alzheimer's disease three years ago. While deeply religious, she disapproved of the veil and never veiled. I remember a time when she, defiantly, remained the only unveiled woman in her apartment building.

When my parents moved to that building in the early eighties, few of the women in this five story building were veiled. By the late nineties, my mother was the only unveiled woman there. She received advice and other forms of proselytization from some of the other women in the building and invitations to attend religious lessons. Group religious lessons were the primary way many women in the urban centers of Egypt became veiled.

In her last years, my mother became increasingly confused because of the Alzheimer's. She'd often start prayers and forget that she had just finished, so she'd start again and go into endless cycles of prayers. At times she became extremely confused, unsure whether she was veiled or not. In her last two years, on the rare occasions when she went out of her apartment, she asked for a veil and I would assure her that she wasn't veiled. A couple of times I helped her remove it as she smiled. A couple of other times she'd put it on and then mid-journey she'd ask ‘what is this thing on my hair?’

Too many women, less fortunate than my late mother, had no choice and were forced to veil against their own will. The veil in Egypt was imposed socially, but not legally. Few women were able to resist the societal pressure. The state colluded with the societal pressure; even progressive revolutionary unveiled women who confront the government and end up facing legal charges almost always take up the veil in courts. In the last few years, unveiling started, but the vast majority of Egyptian women remain veiled and the pressure to veil remains immense.

What's interesting about the veil is that it is viewed as an affirmation or a negation of women's bodies and freedom, depending on the ideas one is holding. Advocates of veiling market the idea that only through modesty can women liberate themselves from being objects of desire and may then be viewed as human beings for their brains and personalities.

Meanwhile, opponents view the veil as the ultimate in objectification and subjugation. Opponents believe veiling treats women’s bodies as mere objects to cover and faults them for arousing desire in men. Veiling also assumes, opponents say, that women can't have desires of their own and such desires are implicitly denied and suppressed.

As I look to the French ban on veils on the beach I feel conflicted. I'm happy that France is taking an affirmative answer to the objectification of women’s bodies and minds. But I'm also sad that France is fighting ideas, unnatural and deviant as they may be, by force of law. France is descending into an Iran or a Saudi Arabia in an inverse battle over the bodies of women. France would have denied my mother the free will to choose to veil or not.

One argument is that the ideology of violence and terrorism, which France has been suffering from in recent years, is the very same ideology behind the veil. This argument is contrary to the most fundamental of principles of human rights. For people are ultimately only responsible for their own actions. Individual responsibility lies at the very heart of liberty.  A veiled woman on the beach in Nice can't be held responsible for the violent acts of a veiled woman in a park in Reims.

The French ban disregards another important consideration. Leila Ahmed, in her book A Quiet Revolution, argues that many veiled Muslim women in the USA and in Egypt advance feminist causes in their societies. She argues that women use the veil as shield to allow them to participate in a world full of patriarchy. Had the Olympics not allowed the Egyptian athlete to veil while playing beach volleyball, she simply would not have been allowed to compete and wouldn’t have been allowed to make it to Rio in the first place.

The veil has been a tool of liberation for many women hailing from conservative homes. The French ban does not stop the patriarchy at the homes of these women, but rather adds a new patriarchy in the opposite direction over control of their bodies. The veiled women of France are now being punished by the authorities and are denied the feel of the wind on their faces.

Ayman S. Ashour

This essay first appeared on Egyptian Streets

٩ أكتوبر، ماما و الزهايمر

فارقت أمي رحمة الله عليها عالمنا نهائيا في يونية ٢٠١٣ و لكنها في الحقيقة كانت تعيش وحيدة في عالمها الخاص لعدة سنوات قبل ذلك في ضباب الزهايمر. الزهايمر مرض غاية في الصعوبة و للاسف لا اجد العديد من الكتابات الشخصية عنه بالعربية. الزهايمر يفترس خلايا المخ واحدة بعد الآخري و مع مرور الوقت يتحول الانسان الذي نحبه الي كائن اخر يعيش في نفس الجسد. ظهرت أعراض الزهايمر على أمي بوضوح تام  قبل وفاتها بحوالي الأربع سنوات، في نفس يوم وفاة والدي يرحمه الله. و لكنني اكاد أكون واثق تماما انها بدأت تعاني من هذا المرض اللعين قبل ذلك اليوم الحزين بحوالي عشرة سنوات. خلال تلك السنوات تحولت شخصيتها من الوداعة و اللطف الى العدوانية و الشك. الشهر الذي عقب وفاة والدي و قبل بداية استعمال المهدئات و أدوية علاج الاكتئاب كان غاية في الصعوبة و كنت قضيت الشهر باكمله معها في مصر و أمريكا. 

وجدت ذاكرتي بعد وفاتها تعود الي ذلك الشهر الصعب و اذا حاولت التفكير في فترات اخري، و جدت نفسي عاجز عن انظر اليها قبل ضبابة الزهايمر. منذ عدة ايام كنت انظر في الرسومات التي قامت بتلوينها كنوع من التسلية قبل وفاتها بعامين تقريبا، سعادتها بالرسم و الألوان كانت كما لو كانت رجعت الي ايام طفولتها، قامت زوجتي بتعليق الرسومات كما كنّا نفعل مع اولادنا في الحضانة و ابتدائي. علامات القدم و البهتان على الألوان تؤلمني لانها تبعد أمي و أيامها عني، و لكني وجدت نفسي لأول مرة منذ سنوات استرجع ذكريات ما قبل الزهايمر، ما قبل الضبابة اللعينة التي اختطفت أحب الناس الي. تحول خوفي من اليوم الذي سانزل فيه تلك الاوراق الباهتة من الحائط الي رحلة جميلة مع الذكريات.

اليوم عيد ميلادها و كنت دائماً حريص على مكالمتنا يوم عيد ميلادها و كانت مكالمتنا قبل الزهايمر دايما تدور حول ما يعني اليوم لي، أقول لها ان اليوم ذكري ميلاد كاتبي المفضل توفيق الحكيم ثم أقول لها انه ذكري تحرير القنطرة في حرب أكتوبر ثم أقول لها " لا طبعا انا عارف انه عيد ميلادك يا ست الكل"، كانت تضحك و تشكرني "انا نسيت و لكن انت لسة فاكر!"

سأحاول ان استمر في استرجاع الماضي قبل الزهايمر و اليوم أتذكرها في أحلى و اجمل صورها و في وداعتها و حنانها و رفقتها... كل سنة و انت طيبة ياحبيبتي يا ست الكل .

Hosny Zeft is gone ..this is for you mother!

“Hosny Zeft” is how my mother always referred to the deposed president of Egypt. While linguistically inaccurate I would equate “zeft” to garbage or rubbish as used in Egyptian Arabic. So to my mother the President of Egypt was Hosny Rubbish, she never referred to him as just Hosny or “el riess” the president, or Mubarak, it was always Hosny Zeft, Hosny Garbage, so consistent she was in her use of this name that one would be forgiven to believe the man’s last name was indeed Garbage.

My mother was always an ardent Egyptian nationalist with tremendous interest in politics and world events; she was the first in the family to boycott the state controlled Al Ahram, the big daily of Egypt and to seek out weekly and eventually daily opposition papers. In the early days of her Alzheimer family members were treated to lengthy rants about Hosny Zeft and his various ministers repetitively. We would often plead with her to tone it down in public places but this would aggravate her more, so Hosny Zeft it was all the time.

My sheer happiness for the success of the Egyptian Revolution and the way this success was achieved are simply beyond words. After three weeks of terrible distraction and an emotional roller coaster of fear, worry, anxiety, anger and hope, the thug and his regime are gone, the Mubarak’s era is no more! Still, I remain overcome by emotions ranging from sadness for those who paid the ultimate price and those who have been tortured and maimed to deliver this salvation to joy and elation at a united progressive organized peaceful movement that defeated the torture and propaganda machines of Mubarak.

I wanted to much to be able to discuss the events of the last three weeks with my mother, I so longed to hear her cheer for the protestors, I imagined trying to dissuade this feisty 82 year old lady from going to Tahrir Square. I wanted to hear what she thought of Egypt finally finding its voice, revolting for dignity and ultimately the getting rid of Hosny Zeft. I speak to my mother on the phone daily and try to get the discussion to Hosny Zeft …over the 18 days of the revolution the name registered once with mammi, …. yes there is still Hosny Zeft deep inside below the thick fog of Alzheimer. In that one call, on the 17th day, she still remembered a Hosny Zeft that should be indeed be damned….but for now my mother wants ice cream and football on TV. Perhaps after this stressful ordeal she is right; we all need ice cream and soccer on TV!