ME AND MY HIJAB
A teacher, a journalist, a candidate for the provincial election, an activist and an aspiring police officer — all Muslim women who live among us in this city and wear a head scarf proudly. They’re talked about but not often invited into the discussion. Here, they speak for themselves.
It’s my identity to wear the hijab. And it’s my dream to be a police officer. Those are things that aren’t ever going to change.
For more than a decade now, Quebec has been locked in a struggle over the reasonable accommodation of minorities — a debate about identity politics that often turns ugly. Caught in the crossfire, an easy target to identify, are Muslim women who wear a head scarf as a visible marker of their faith. Allison Hanes sits down with five of these women and finds they have much to say.
They aren’t usually given a voice, but it’s not because they have nothing to say.
They are regularly spoken about rather than being asked to speak for themselves.
They are dismissed as oppressed and submissive when, more often than not, they are strong and accomplished.
Muslim women in Quebec are sadly inured to being maligned, marginalized and misrepresented. And as provincial party leaders prepare to head out on the campaign trail in preparation for the October election, they are bracing to once again become lightning rods.
For more than a decade now, Quebec has been locked in a struggle over the reasonable accommodation of minorities — a debate is that is frequently anything but, and tends to intensify come election time.
Muslim women, particularly those who wear the hijab as a visible marker of their faith, have born the brunt of the sometimes ugly identity politics that tend to arise as a result. Whether it’s the Parti Québécois’s Charter of Values, which would have prevented everyone from doctors to bureaucrats from wearing head scarves, turbans or kippahs, or the Liberal government’s Bill 62, which restricts anyone with a covered face from giving or receiving public services, these laws seem aimed at dictating what Muslim women wear in the name of secularism and equality.
But missing from the debate are Muslim women. They are often discussed, but not as often invited into the discussion. Talk to them, however, and they are eager to speak for themselves. Get to know Muslim women and they will defy the one-dimensional stereotypes perpetuated about them. Give them a say and they will dispel the myths that they are helpless victims of a paternalistic religion or that their faith is incompatible with feminism and equality.
Studies demonstrate that Muslim women are among the most highly educated minority groups in Canada, with 56 per cent possessing post-secondary degrees in 2011. Not all wear the veil. A 2016 Environics poll of Canadian Muslims found 48 per cent of female respondents (and of that, 60 per cent of those age 18 to 34) wear the hijab, while just two per cent wear the niqab, or full face veil. Of those who wear any headcovering at all, another study shows it is overwhelmingly a matter of choice and conviction. The Environics poll also indicates that those who are veiled are more likely to be singled out
for discrimination or insults.
The Montreal Gazette recently spoke to a teacher, a journalist, a candidate for the provincial election, an activist and an aspiring police officer — all Muslim women who wear the hijab proudly and have much to say and contribute.
Nadia Naqvi, a Grade 9 science teacher at Beaconsfield High School, is a natural authority figure who is bubbling with energy. She strives to be a role model for students in her classroom and has also given talks about hate and Islamophobia since the shooting at a Quebec City mosque in 2017, where six worshippers were killed and scores injured.
Fariha Naqvi-Mohamed, her cousin, launched her journalism career with an impassioned open letter to then-premier Pauline Marois at the height of the Charter of Values debate that ended up going viral. She loves poutine and hockey. She is a diversity marketing specialist, writes a blog called CanadianMomEh, and now has a column in the Montreal Gazette.
Aziza Dini is the first hijabwearing Muslim woman to officially launch a bid to seek provincial office — something that wasn’t even possible until Elections Quebec changed an arcane rule that required candidates to show their heads, shoulders and necks in campaign photos. Dini will run for the Quebec Green Party, which was instrumental in pushing for an update to the regulations. She will face off against Health Minister Gaétan Barrette in La Pinière riding.
Razia Hamidi is an activist and community organizer who has often served as a spokesperson on Muslim issues.
Sondos Lamrhari, 18, is a student in police sciences at Collège Ahuntsic. Her goal to be a police officer became front-page news and a hot-button topic of debate in the National Assembly in April.
It happened shortly after Montreal Mayor Valérie Plante weighed in on the question of whether officers should be allowed to incorporate religious symbols into their uniforms. Plante said she was favourable, but would let the Montreal Police determine its own policy. The force said the issue was purely theoretical, since there’d never been a request. So a reporter from Le Journal the Montréal called around to all the police tech programs in Quebec to see if there were any students with religious garb coming up through the ranks. She eventually found out about Lamrhari, who agreed to give her an interview.
Reaction to news of Lamrhari and her goal was swift, furious — and predictable. Poll-topping Coalition Avenir Québec leader François Legault even vowed to meet Lamrhari face-to-face to tell her why he would never allow her to wear her hijab as a police officer if he becomes Quebec’s next premier.
The bright, articulate, athletic student didn’t set out to be a barrier breaker, she said recently. When she enrolled in her police tech program a year ago, she figured she was a rarity and would end up being a pioneer of sorts. She only realized from that news report that she might end up being a first.
Whether she intended to become a trailblazer or not, Larmhari may inevitably become a test case for the province’s willingness to accommodate her career ambitions and identity.
Quebec’s police academy in Nicolet is in the process of determining its policy on training future officers who wear religious insignia, which will affect Lamrhari’s application after she finishes her college program in three years. But Lamrhari’s fate may also become a barometer of Quebec’s tolerance — if whichever party wins the next election decides to toughen restrictions on religious dress.
Lamrhari said she remains committed to pursuing her path, even if she finds her way barred.
“I can only respond by saying that if it comes to that, it will be too bad,” she said. “It’s my identity to wear the hijab. And it’s my dream to be a police officer. Those are things that aren’t ever going to change.”
Lamrhari and other Muslim women are ready to challenge prejudices and a status quo that underestimates what they have to offer — if we just, as NaqviMohamed said, pass them the mic.