There is a resistance towards Islamic dress which is marginalising Muslim women and girls - it needs to change

'When matters turned from academic to religious, as I entered sixth form and wanted to wear an ankle-length skirt instead of a knee-length one, I was suddenly dismissed'

(Getty)

In an age where ‘Islamophobia’ has been featuring in bold news headlines, party manifestos, and across the Internet, it’s no surprise Islam has become one of the most controversial topics around today. While there are a number of questions that arise from the religion, there is one social issue that needs particular focus: the appearances of Muslim women.

When it comes to religious dress, a vast range exists. But the kind that has drawn the most attention is the figure of a woman in long black robes and a headscarf, a figure covered from head-to-toe. Sadly, the image doesn’t stop there. Some onlookers prefer a more creative approach and enjoy building a back story of a woman or girl who has been ‘forced’ into these clothes; she is naïve and, ultimately, she is a victim in need of ‘saving’. This isn’t just present in the media. It exists as an obstacle for many young Muslim girls in schools - and my question is why?

Clothing has a massive influence on how you perceive an individual. Every colour, fabric, print, and cut is a sentence, a statement, building up a form of expression so powerful in its immediate visibility that it refuses to be ignored. Why, then, can an abaya - or a hijab - not be perceived as just as incredible? For those who choose to wear these clothes, every piece of black cloth is a woven speech, an open declaration that what they love is more important to them than the good opinion of strangers.

I will not be so guileless as to claim there are no incidents where Muslim girls have been forced into a particular dress code, but why are we so quick to assume they form a majority of the female Muslim population? Upon receiving my GCSE results, my teachers at Loxford School in Ilford, Essex, never once stated my high grades were the result of pressure from home. It was the same for every other student. The immediately assumed cause of achievement was determination and an independent mind.

Yet, when matters turned from academic to religious, as I entered their sixth form and wanted to wear an ankle-length skirt instead of a knee-length one, a handful of other girls and I were suddenly dismissed. It was as if, when our skin disappeared under the slightly longer fabric we requested permission to wear, any possibility of being able to think for ourselves disappeared along with it.

These Muslim girls are often raised and educated in Britain, where free will is preached in the media and curriculum alike, right from primary school. Hence the decision Muslim girls make on their appearance is not based on a one -sided view. It’s based on the influence from both religious and secular parties.

Although some time ago now, BBC News reported how schoolgirl Shabnam Begum was banned from wearing a long gown to a school in Luton. Her lawyer stated her family felt the ban “doesn't help integrate Muslims within our society.” Still relevant today, when schools send students home because a longer skirt or a straight black abaya worn with a blazer is considered wrong, is makes us feel wrong. It baffles the mind that, while there are campaigns like Votes at 16 which exist to get younger teens more politically involved, we can’t be given the responsibility to dress ourselves in the morning.

Writing against feminist group Femen in the Huffington Post, Laila Alawa said: “I am a proud Muslim-American woman, and I am tired…of being told I am oppressed. That I have no voice. That I need to be liberated.” Susan Carland described this same Femen incident as “outrageously condescending” but, more importantly, as creating a strict divide between strong women and Muslim women which is ultimately damaging and close-minded.

It’s not just a matter of religion. This resistance towards religious dress marginalises Muslim girls. Schools are supposed to nurture young people and equip them to make their own decisions on what kind of person they want to be.

I left Loxford sixth form because they were insistent on their uniform guidelines - and others in various schools have done the same. Yes, we’ll be okay. Yes, our education and future are still intact. No, we don’t feel completely welcome. No, we don’t always feel wanted. And, yes - this needs to change.

Twitter: @Safah_Ahmed

Safah Ahmed is an A-level student, creative lifestyle blogger, and freelance writer with an interest in politics and a fair representation of ethnic and religious minorities