‘I have this weird feeling I’m being used as a terror symbol’

INSIDE THE THOUGHTS OF A CANADIAN KEFFIYEH

This week saw the Ontario legislature endure a miniature storm of controversy over its new ban on the wearing of keffiyeh. Palestinian terrorist leader Yasser Arafat popularized the wearing of the scarf as a Palestinian symbol, and it has been ubiquitous at the hundreds of anti-israel demonstrations that have hit Canada since the Oct. 7 massacres in Southern Israel.

What the Legislative Assembly of Ontario did was to classify the scarf as a political symbol; a category of clothing that has long been prohibited during legislative sessions. This spawned condemnation from senior figures such as federal Liberal Justice Minister Arif Virani, who called the keffiyeh an “important cultural symbol” and there were two unsuccessful Ontario NDP motions to have the ban overturned.

In Dear Diary, the National Post satirically reimagines a week in the life of a newsmaker. This week, Tristin Hopper takes a journey inside the thoughts of a Canadian keffiyeh.

MONDAY

I’ve always taken pride that I’m an exceedingly useful piece of clothing. Caught in a dust storm? Use me to protect your mouth and nose. On a long walk at midday? Tie me around your head and shield your neck from sunburn. Heck, in a pinch I’m even an impromptu water filter, towel and signal flag. Yes, if you’re a person on the go in a hot, semi-arid climate, you can’t beat the raw utility of a keffiyeh.

But something has been troubling me lately. Why are so many people suddenly wearing me in Canada? The climate here is predominantly subarctic, and I seem to be worn almost exclusively in urban settings. I don’t want to question these people’s clothing choices; but just as you see very few mukluks and toque in the Eastern Mediterranean, might I suggest that I may not be the optimal sartorial choice for spring in the St. Lawrence Lowlands?

TUESDAY

And yet, my Canadian sales figures continue to rise. I’m the mid-2020s equivalent of UGG boots or platform sneakers.

But what I still can’t put my finger on is what has caused the sudden keffiyeh craze? Sometimes, clothing fads can be chalked up to movies; sales of Ray-ban Wayfarers noticeably spiked after the release of the movie Risky Business, for instance. Or they can be inspired by a popular celebrity; Britney Spears is generally credited for the “visible thongs” craze of the early 2000s.

Whatever it is in my case, it seemed to have happened right around early October 2023. In September of that year, we’d be lucky if we could sell a handful of keffiyehs to a low-budget church production of Jesus Christ Superstar. A few weeks later, and we’re shipping pallets of the things to universities and union headquarters across the country.

WEDNESDAY

It has occurred to me that I may have been adopted as a religious symbol. But I’m not really seeing any consistent evidence of religiosity among my wearers. I mean, the pornography consumption alone is through the roof. And I’m yet to encounter any religion whose holy books include a foreword by Naomi Klein.

So this led me to consider whether I’m a cultural accessory, like a sarong or a sporran? Here again, the evidence doesn’t hold up. My wearers don’t seem to have any kind of coherent heritage or shared values.

THURSDAY

I will say that my wearing almost always seems to be accompanied by screaming and chanting. So much so, that I briefly considered the possibility that my purpose was to act as a rag for spittle and froth. I’ve checked with the other clothing accessories, and they’ve all said this is actually quite unusual. The brooches and the watch chains, in particular, told me they can’t remember the last time they heard a voice raised in anger.

Sports are loud; maybe it’s something sports-related? Perhaps, but let’s just say that my wearers don’t exude the qualities of athleticism and resilience that one typically associates with physical recreation. Just the other day, one them had to halt his chanting of “intifada” because he got a charley horse so bad that he started crying.

FRIDAY

OK, there is one universal through-line I’ve noticed among followers of the new keffiyeh fad (“keffiyeh kiddies” I call them). They really seem to hate this one particular thing. They never mention it by name, but it’s literally all they talk about. No hopes, no dreams, no plans for the future, no grappling with complex ideas or ways of living; it really all just goes back to this one thing they hate. If only this one thing — and everything and everyone peripherally associated with this thing — could be destroyed, they seem to think everything will be fine.

I don’t immediately see where I fit into all this.