Encouraging, and banning, face coverings
As officials urge mask wearing, niqab bans around the world are on even more shaky ground
In Montreal last week, the first person to mount a legal challenge to Quebec’s Bill 21 took the stand in court. Ichrak Nourel Hak, a teacher who wears the hijab, opposes the 2019 law that bars some publicsector workers from wearing religious symbols at work.
The law applies to other articles of clothing, including the Islamic veil known as the niqab, which is the focus of University of Ottawa law professor Natasha Bakht’s “In Your Face: Law, Justice and NiqabWearing Women in Canada.”
But the Quebec law is just one of the obstacles, legal or societal, facing women who wear the niqab.
These days many people cover their faces when leaving their homes and they do so out of a sense of courtesy and care for others. But public sentiment has not always been in favour of face coverings — at least when it comes to the niqab.
The vast majority of people in Canada have probably never met or had a conversation with a niqab-wearing woman, yet many judge these women without even knowing them. The meaning of the Islamic veil is (mis)understood without any direct experience with it. Getting to know some of our niqab-wearing neighbours might decrease the harmful myths and stereotypes that affect their lives.
Zunera is a former high school teacher from Pakistan and the mother of five young children who now lives in Ontario. She is passionate about serving her community and has organized a children’s festival, taken part in tree-planting events, and helped to raise funds for a women’s shelter. She strongly believes in the right to vote in order to be a fully functioning and engaged member of society. She is soft-spoken but tough; she lives life on her own terms.
Fauzia is a 21-year-old student at McGill University in Montreal. She studies elementary education and hopes to become a teacher one day. Fauzia is thoughtful and articulate. She is fluent in English and French and says the following: “I see my role like that of any other Canadian … any other human being … I want to study, become a worker, volunteer, contribute to society.”
Both of these women are also Muslim and happen to wear the niqab, or the full-face veil.
Zunera’s story is well known. She became a permanent resident of Canada in October 2008, having met all of the preconditions for citizenship, including the age and residency requirements, demonstrating sufficient knowledge of one of Canada’s official languages, having no criminal prohibitions, and passing a test proving knowledge of the country and the responsibilities and privileges of citizenship. Her application was approved and all she needed to become a citizen was to recite the oath of citizenship, a requirement under the Citizenship Act.
She was prepared to do so, but a new federal policy would have required her to take off her face veil. Then-Immigration Minister Jason Kenney changed the requirement of taking the oath to that of being seen to be taking the oath.
Readers will recall that in February 2015, the Federal Court invalidated the policy, declaring it inconsistent with the regulations of the Citizenship Act that permits a judge to administer the oath of citizenship with the “greatest possible freedom” in its solemnization or affirmation. Despite persistent popular beliefs that niqab-wearing women come to Canada demanding that laws be changed for their benefit, the Citizenship Act already contained a provision that endorsed respect for differences among peoples.
In an oral decision, the Federal Court of Appeal upheld the Federal Court’s ruling, finding it important “not (to) delay in issuing our decision … so as to hopefully leave open the possibility for the respondent to obtain citizenship in time to vote in the upcoming federal election.” Zunera did indeed obtain Canadian citizenship and she voted in the federal election that removed the Conservative party from power.
Fauzia’s story also intersects with Canadian law, but its outcome is yet to be determined.
Since 2010, politicians in Quebec have debated, attempted to legislate, and eventually enacted, laws restricting the ability to cover one’s face — with reprisals for those who continue to do so. Most recently, An Act respecting the laicity of the State (Bill 21), among other prohibitions, proscribes niqab-wearing women from working in the public service or, under some circumstances, receiving public services.
For Fauzia this meant potentially being unable to attend university, though admirably, McGill announced that it would not implement this discriminatory law. It also, however, means that she may be unable to realize her dream of becoming a public-school teacher, despite her education and training.
While Bill 21 is being constitutionally challenged through the courts, despite the government’s invocation of the “notwithstanding clause,” niqab bans irrationally eject Muslim women from the public sphere, erasing public evidence of their Muslim-ness. The rampant spread of legislation banning face veils globally has transformed niqab-wearing from a non-existent issue to a spectacular threat to the nation state.
The impact of niqab bans is devastating, implicating these women’s ability to work, travel, testify in courtrooms, be free from violence on the streets, access health care and other public services, and simply move about in the clothing that they choose to wear. Even educated, sophisticated scholars and judges who claim to accept and even welcome diversity will “draw the line” at the niqab.
That niqab-wearing women appear different from others in society and might need to navigate relationships and services in a slightly altered manner is not particularly novel. Increasing diversity in terms of race, culture, religion, ability, gender identity and sexuality has for some time marked Canadian society. Our openness and acceptance of differences has been touted as the hallmark of a progressive society that values and is enriched by diversity. Laws and policies in a number of areas specifically address the multidimensional needs of a diverse population, recognizing that historical practice has typically reflected a colonial bias and a perceived homogeneity.
Women like Zunera and Fauzia have, after serious thought, made the decision to wear a garment that they feel brings them closer to God and is of value to them. They are courageous in their conviction to wear the niqab even though it is a visible marker and makes them look different from most others in Canada. They know they are not harming anyone by wearing the niqab, nor do they expect anyone else to wear it.
They have even encountered judgment and opposition from members of their own faith and family, yet they insist on living their lives in the way that feels most authentic to them. And wearing the niqab is but one aspect of their complex identities.
With millions of people now wearing medical and non-medical face masks, the COVID-19 health pandemic has revealed that the justifications for niqab bans — identification, communication and security, among others — are disingenuous. What seems to be behind such attempts to curb face-veiling is merely dislike, fear and discomfort with the unknown, illustrating how unhelpful such measures are for interactions in a diverse society. Muslim women who cover their faces arouse visceral reactions in people who, despite exposure to varied ways of living through multicultural environments, seem to have fixed notions of how women ought to live the good life.
In uncovering some of the legal and other experiences and stories of niqabwearing women, my hope is that we might get to know niqab-wearing women and ourselves better. Rather than being alarmed by difference or remaining stubbornly certain that our views and practices are superior, we might nourish social relationships and ask what we can learn from this unique historical moment — when face coverings have become desirable — in order to change the direction of the future. Meaningful and peaceful interactions require this of all of us.