Life&Style Writer Aaliya Afzal reflects on France’s on-pitch Hijab ban, arguing that it is damaging to treat items of religious significance as accessories
Content Warning: References the negative treatment towards the hijab and briefly mentions Islamophobia
France’s controversial ‘anti-separatism bill’ and the banning of the hijab in public spaces has increasingly sparked discussion. Now, the ban has expanded to the sports field, as female Muslim footballers who wear the hijab are excluded from the pitches. The French Footballer Federation, known as FFF, is a governing body that bans Muslim women from wearing the hijab in matches at home and internationally. In turn, it is implied that the hijab is treated as an accessory that can be easily removed, rather than a legitimate expression of religious belief. This introduces familiar stereotypes of Islam as archaic and incredibly conservative.
It is implied that the hijab is treated as an accessory that can be easily removed, rather than a legitimate expression of religious belief
France’s rise in Islamophobia and general intolerance towards Muslim people is well documented. Since 2011 with the banning of the niqab and the 2016 ‘Burkini Ban’, which banned women from wearing burkinis on French beaches, the right for Muslim women to choose how to represent themselves, particularly through clothing, has been widely policed. In fact, there are a host of limits imposed on hijabi woman such as running for office, organising a student union, and even volunteering for charities. Earlier this year, the bill against separatism saw an amendment added – the banning of the hijab in public for girls under 18. In response, a hashtag entitled #HandsOffMyHijab exploded on social media, with Muslims and non-Muslims alike expressing outrage at the control of the hijab.
Interestingly, France claims that the aim of banning the hijab is to combat ‘separatism’ and female oppression. Whilst debating the amendment in March, officials approved the bill and stated that it was in the interest of resisting symbols which ’signify inferiority of women over men,’ with the hijab seemingly falling under this category. Moreover, despite statements that the legislation is not aimed to target Muslims but maintains neutrality in public areas, ensures emancipation from religious fanaticism and reflects a commitment to common French values, it is hard to believe that the bill does not cause further division and hostility towards Muslim communities.
By forcing female Muslim footballers to make a choice between their hijab and love for the sport there is a clear message of alienation
By forcing female Muslim footballers to make a choice between their hijab and love for the sport there is a clear message of alienation, with their very existence being incompatible with French society. They are also unable to speak for themselves, instead being continually spoken for by self-appointed ‘hero’ figures who wish to free them from the so-called oppressive hijab. The irony is tangible. Speaking about her spiritual journey and choice to wear the hijab, Leila Kellou expresses this contradiction, noting that some people believe that Islam forces women to wear the hijab and yet refuse to hear from ‘actual people wearing the hijab.’ Numerous tweets demonstrate such inconsistencies with one user writing, “Forcing a woman to wear a hijab is wrong. Just like forcing her to take it off is wrong” (@najwazebian).
In response to the ban, a group of hijab-wearing footballers known as ‘Les Hijabeuses’ established themselves as a body actively working against the principles of the FFF. The group have built of team of players, composed a successful Instagram page and networked with other French teams to encourage young girls to get involved with football. Members also express how they wish to alter perceptions of the hijab-wearing woman, and aim to build a more inclusive environment on the pitch. Besides this, the group’s ambitions are modest – to simply share their love for football. It is difficult to not feel the enthusiasm radiating from the Hijabeuses women as they detail what football means to them. Karthoum Dembele explains how she loves “everything about football”: “I love the competition and I love to win. I like sharing all these emotions together.’
[These women] continually spoken for by self-appointed ‘hero’ figures who wish to free them from the so-called oppressive hijab
Seen in this way, Les Hijabeuses are less of a politically organised group with a grandiose statement to make, but simply women who enjoy football, and happen to wear the hijab. Bouchra Chaib explains this best: ‘I’m not a woman wearing a hijab playing football, just a woman who loves football.’ This highlights how Muslim women should not be defined solely in terms of their hijab, nor obligated to uphold a great message. These women are not simply ‘hijab-wearing players’ but ‘players’ in general, and this is just as meaningful as the fight against narrow definitions of the hijab and Islam. Their presence is enough. As a predominately male-dominated sport, this development of female participation is positive and inspiring. The banning of the hijab is not only contradictory, reinstating the risk to individual freedom, which society claims to defend, but also threatening to individual citizenship and human rights. In this way, the Muslim people are not treated as valid French citizens and are unable to access central ethical values: self-autonomy and self-expression.
Read More From Life&Style:
Face Coverings: Society’s Double Standard
Representation in Fashion: H&M and the Hijab
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