"I'm a princess! I'm a princess!"
“Okay, I’m the boy now!” Eryn cheerfully drops to one knee and raises her hands, ready to catch me as I twirl towards her. I suppose in her imagination when her little hands grasp my leg, she’s gracefully lifting me up into a delightful twirl. Soon it’s my turn to be the boy and she giggles incessantly when I throw her into the air.
Recently, Eryn has become more and more interested in role play – and it’s interesting to see how she assigns gender roles to her various make-believe characters.
Boy ballerinas lift twirling girl ballerinas; girl farmers climb trees and drive the tractor while boy farmers remain untouched in the box; mamas have babies (sigh); babas have meetings (double sigh); and doctors, nurses, and faeries apparently have no gender.
Overall, we’re trying to be fluid about gender stereotypes in order to emphasise that she’s capable of doing and being anything she chooses. Especially since living in a community with strong cultural and religious ideas of women’s “divinely ordained” roles will one day impact her in ways I can’t yet imagine.
Sometimes I worry she’s going to start feeling that boys have all the fun.
My worries recently intensified after reading Peggy Orenstein’s book, Cinderella ate my Daughter. I regaled my friends and family with examples of the Barbie, Disney and Bratz subtext selling “vapid beauty equals self-worth;” the gendered materialization of a single colour just to sell pink baseball bats; and the over-sexualisation of girls by marketing “Sexy” (but not slutty!) to five-year-old Hanna Montana fans.
Fearing little Eryn would want to paint her nails and wear hot pants tomorrow, I desperately ran off my checklist of parental tactics, hoping we’re prepared enough to offset this new “girlie” culture.
Then I sighed, and for one brief, relieving moment said: “Well, thank God for hijab.”
And in that second I bought into the argument that hijab creates a counter-culture to combat materialism, commercialism and the sexualisation of women in the media. It’s frequently used as an anti-commercialism selling point for Muslim women to take on hijab, while complimenting the slew of other reasons based on modesty and religious, political, and cultural mores. It’s an argument I believed in when I first put on hijab over a decade ago, crying out: When I cover my flesh, I reject “western” standards of beauty, fashion, and remove stereotypical gender barriers, allowing people to focus on my mind instead of my body!
So what better way to socialize Eryn into rejecting the values that beauty and inaction will magically win her a handsome, rich prince or that being popular and fashion-obsessed is a pinnacle life goal? Hijab will teach her that modesty can combat materialism, subvert advertising and emphasise that it’s better to develop one’s intellectual and physical skills, than buy into an institution convincing girls the best they can aspire to is fame and beauty.
But I can’t simply sell hijab as a magic pill.
Ten years ago I proudly stood up in an auditorium to offer my opinion – truly believing that my hijab forced the audience to concentrate on my words and intelligence and not how the cut of my blouse accentuated my breasts, how my salon-styled hair shone in the lights, or how my appearance fit some societal standard of beauty and therefore validated what I was saying.
As a rejection of beauty standards, my hijab liberated me.
Eventually, I also bought into the marketing telling me to get the latest hijab fashions. I yearned for a designer abaya that would make me look svelte, I fought to buy electric blue hijabs that accentuated my eyes and I wept over the latest dangling hijab pins made with real Swarovski crystals!
Today, skinny, light-skinned hijab models help pave the way for the new and modern hijabsitas, “fauxjabis” and sexy “hoe-jabis.”
Fashion aside, hijab also comes with its own stereotypes of constructed gender norms. According to some of Eryn’s Islamic picture books, the (overwhelmingly cis-gendered, heterosexual, female) Muslim must be pious, non-sexual, virginal, ready to please her family, and wearing a plain hijab. Which is certainly not an accurate portrayal of the many types of hijab styles or people who wear hijab.
One book in particular details all of the places a person can say the most common Islamic phrase, bismillah – in the name of God. Pictures illustrate boys holding books titled “Science,” boys running, jumping and skipping down the street, boys praying in the mosque, boys flying kites, boys painting pictures, playing with blocks, and boys swimming in the sea. The three hijab-clad girls hold books with no titles, prepare dinner for their family, and make tea.
It’s pretty clear this book tells children that girls don’t have to do anything of real value when compared to boys. Girls are only good for homemaking and boys seriously get to do a lot of fun, active and intelligent stuff. How is that any different from a blond, gorgeous princess saying her only goal in life is to “sparkle?”
When it comes to day-to-day public visuality, men perform the call to prayer, lead prayer, give the sermon, dominate scholarship, and usually are the model, active characters in children’s Islamic literature. It’s the male gaze that has sexualised hijab to the point that pre-menstrual girls are told to cover themselves because men find them alluring. It’s the same gaze that requires women in hijab to pray behind a screen – lest a swatch of modest black fabric causes a man to uncontrollably lust while in a mosque.
How on earth can I compete with both the limiting gender stereotypes and guilty hijab sexualizing coming internally from my community and the over-sexualizing, external material culture selling “fab fun and fashion” to my child?
Hijab can absolutely be used, and is used by many Muslim women as a rejection of materialism and the over-sexualisation of bodies in the media. Just because there’s a new hijab trend toward fashion, doesn’t mean I have to reject hijab as a subversive tool. The fashionable hijab subverts traditional stereotypes of “acceptable modesty” by giving women a platform to personalise and reclaim the hijab for themselves.
There are also a million amazing Muslim women who are supreme role models – saving lives, leading revolutions, kicking sporting ass. Activists, doctors, volunteers, scholars and thinkers, who just *happen* to wear hijab. And then there are those women – fantastic, brilliant, pious women – who are largely ignored by the Media and Muslim communities as “authentic Muslim women,” simply because they *don’t* wear the hijab, but who are also absolutely, role-model-worthy.
But unless I start writing and illustrating books myself, there are only a few Islamic children’s books that have positive female characters – The Swirling Hijab, The Jannah Jewels and Khadijah Goes to School immediately come to mind. There are so many wonderful female personalities in Islamic history who fought battles, taught our treasured male scholars, founded universities, and led the Empire – you’d think there would be volumes dedicated to celebrating their successes and telling their stories.
We’ll continue to dress Eryn in a variety of colours, emphasise charity, go volunteering, and encourage the “self-rescuing” princess theme. We’ll let her play with whatever she’s interested in playing with – blocks, hammers, kitchens, doctor kits, baby-dolls, skipping ropes, soccer balls and tea sets are all fair game. And we’ll introduce her to all sorts of strong women (non-Muslims, hijabis, and non-hijabis) – emphasizing that she can be whatever she wants to be. I’ll support her in anything.
Even when she throws on my pink hijab and runs around the house screaming, “I’m a princess! I’m a princess!”
Cross-posted at Womanist Musings.
February 29, 2012 at 8:19 pm
Say it, sistah.
March 1, 2012 at 1:45 am
Great post!
March 1, 2012 at 5:17 am
thank you for this brilliant post, I really enjoyed reading about your perceptions. I guess there are a lot of women out there who struggle with the concept of over-sexualisation of their bodies in the media, including myself. But it was my mom who instilled in me that I can be whoever I want, that my looks are far less important than who I am as a person, and she has always given me her support
I reap benefits of it every day 
thanks again woodturtle
March 1, 2012 at 11:26 am
Thanks for your comment! Sounds like you have an amazing mum.
Eryn has a lot of really wonderfully, strong muslimahs in her life (and hopefully online, if I can convince her to “check out mommy’s funny blogging friends” when she’s old enough, without too much eye rolling!).
I’m hoping this will tip the scales in her favour to develop a healthy self.
March 1, 2012 at 10:14 am
As the mother of a 11-year-old girl-woman, I wish I could say that it gets easier. Thank you for this honest post and for highlighting the tightrope we walk as Muslim women in the messages we send to our daughters.
March 1, 2012 at 11:28 am
Thanks Laura
Nicely said.
Sometimes I just wish I could pour everything I have in my brain into Eryn and skip all of the drama that we’ll experience over the next 30 years (insha’Allah). I have no doubt that me wearing hijab and not always having an active role in the mosque will have it’s effects too.
March 1, 2012 at 11:04 am
Well said..You are brilliant as always, may Allah bless you and Eryn
March 1, 2012 at 1:52 pm
Oops… “It’s pretty clear this book tells children that girls don’t have to do anything of real value when compared to boys. Girls are only good for homemaking and boys seriously get to do a lot of fun, active and intelligent stuff.” Uh-oh, Woodturtle–sounds like you’re down on housewives… Are you accusing me of false consciousness if I say that what I do is active and intelligent?
March 1, 2012 at 3:08 pm
Absolutely not. And my apologies if it came across as such. I’m actually trying to come down on this book and the majority of male-centric Islamic literature for children.
I’m a working mother (which is HARD), and a soon to be full time housewife for the next two years (for the second time in 3 years). I have yet to experience a “job-job” that challenges me as intellectually and forces me to be the most active (and exhausted) as being a housewife. I think I’ve learned more in the past 2.5 years than I did in my entire time in Montreal.
There are more than enough times when the Hubby and I have debated whether or not we can financially afford for me to stay at home — and at the moment, it’s not a viable option. One day insha’Allah. Especially if we’re able to have the number of children we want!
It takes a lot of creativity, imagination, integrity, brilliance, flexibility, patience, negotiating tactics, communication skills… etc… to be a SAHM/D
When writing this post I thought of leaving a disclaimer because a couple of points didn’t resonate 100% with me, even as I wrote them. Like the princess who wants to “sparkle.” Well, what’s wrong with that exactly? What’s wrong with a woman identifying with and expressing her sexuality through sexy clothes? Technically, nothing.
But when it comes to gate keeping influences for my child I’d prefer to hear the reason. There has to be more than just “sparkling.”
If Eryn wants to be a princess, I hope it’s because, “they are good, kind, give back to the community, can take care of themselves and help others” not because, “they’re beautiful and rich.”
If she wants to be a housewife I hope it’s because she finds real value and fulfillment in doing so, and not because an Islamic children’s board book convinced her that women can only cook and make tea.
I should show you this book. It’s cute. I bought it! But after reading it the 100th time, really seeing the message beyond the images showed me the author didn’t think it was worth illustrating girls flying kites, girls reading science books, or even girls praying.
All important skills a mother should develop.
(and you don’t even want to hear about what I have to say about the boy’s illustrations! Tanks and guns galore. Why can’t a boy learn how to cook tea?)
March 5, 2012 at 12:25 am
Loved this post, Wood Turtle! I need to read you more often.
I especially liked this point of yours in the above comments: “If she wants to be a housewife I hope it’s because she finds real value and fulfillment in doing so, and not because an Islamic children’s board book convinced her that women can only cook and make tea.”
Same here. I’m all good with housewives, and sometimes I wanna be one too (it sounds odd to my friends that I’d be a “housewife” with a PhD, and I think it’s narrow to assume that someone, especially a woman, can’t possibly want a PhD without any plans to get a career with it — not that I don’t want a career at this point; just saying that I would have no problem being a stay-at-home mom if I ever feel like). But what’s important is the reason one wants to be a stay-at-home mom. Is it because you’ve been told that you can’t achieve anything non-domestic and you believed it? Or is it that you find some real value and fulfillment in it?
Thanks again for the post!
March 5, 2012 at 11:25 am
Thanks for commenting Zufash!
I don’t often talk about the “working mother” (even though I am one) because I have yet to find a language that would allow me to speak about it without inadvertently invalidating the “unpaid work of STAHM/D”. As seen above, I’m perfectly capable of putting my foot in my mouth.
An awesome feminist mama blogger, Arwyn @Raising My Boychick has a gorgeous post on language and the devaluing of pregnancy as “work,” and another on the problematics of using “SAHM”, and the great, weighty importance we give to paid work instead.
What’s interesting about “traditional” (ugh.. more inappropriate terms!) views in Islam is that while the early Muslims focused on the skills and capabilities of persons (regardless of gender), today there appears to be the push for “traditional family values / gender stereotypes.” I’ve been to Al-Huda Institute talks where the message is plain: “A woman’s religious, spiritual worth is ONLY in her ability to have children and care for her family” — being taught by a woman with 2 kids AND a phd in chemical engineering… who can also afford to hire a nanny so she can teach courses at the university.
But not every woman wants a family. Not every woman WANTS a husband. Not every woman can have kids. Not every woman WANTS kids. So what does this message say about their spiritual and religious worth?
March 1, 2012 at 2:49 pm
It sounds like you haveca pretty balanced approach
i took a similiar stance with my daughter (now 10) and although i wish peggy orenstein had wrtten cinderella when my kid was 2, as i wouldn’t have felt as isolated in raising her the way i did, im so glad alhamdulillah that her dad and i did. Despite pre-pubescency’s mood swings, she is a great kid masha Allah and aspires to be a Cambridge grad archaeologist, a teacher and author, and we have encouraged her to believe she CAN.
But career shouldn’t be the focus…it’s really important to focus on the fact that a good PERSON is just that, a good person, regardless of gender…and that above all that is what she should aspire to, ie kind, respectful, generous, graciously honest, empathetic, emotionally intelligent etc.
I love your stance on the hijab…as much as i share it ( both in views and practice) i think it quite challenging to encourage my daughter into it and so have abandoned the idea. I do however still plug the virtues of why i began covering ( very similiar to yours) and they make such sense to her that i feel the effort is wholly worthwile alhamdulillah.
So i guess my reason for responding is to say, “way to go and be positive because we have had great results in trying the same tactics!!”
)
March 5, 2012 at 11:35 am
Thanks Ayesha!
And yes. Yes to focusing on personhood!
March 3, 2012 at 7:25 am
Two of the women in the video “Azizah” each made statements that, in my opinion should be added to this post, at least as an attempt to provide some structure to solving the problems here discussed.
“And they would try to be like, “you know, sister, you know, you need to be blah blah blah. You know, and and imposing on me what I needed in order to be fulfilled.”
Those who know me understand why I find this important, as I eschew organized religion precisely for the reason espoused by this young woman. Regardless of what any religious script says I hate the idea that the general community is deemed too stupid to understand it, thus instituting a priesthood usually of stronger, smarter, wiser, and for all I know better smelling men who first hoard all the books, and then tell the general community that they have figured it all out and will tell you what you must do in the Name of… and so on.
” Because I don’t need apologies. What I need is to be free. But emancipation is never granted. It must be demanded.”
It is surely difficult to teach gender equality to young children when they observe how the sexes are treated differently regarding dress, aspiration fulfilment, the separate-but-equal concept of congregating in a place of worship or at a private house party or wedding, precepts that are largely culturally traditional and not necessarily religiously prescribed. So it seems a bit futile to start the teaching only in the formative years. Rather than presenting young minds with the dichotomy of theory vs reality, it might be more effective to start the discourse with adult sisters and brothers and husbands {older fathers may be a difficult hurdle as they are most likely “used” to it being that way, as are many older mothers.}
Once a core group is convinced of the type of change needed, convincing more of the community should get easier. I hope this doesn’t come off as too simple but, as a start why not throw a ladies party and have the celebration of a Muslim heroine as the theme, hopefully a discussion about the above topic might then ensue.
March 6, 2012 at 11:10 am
You know… I’ve been to halaqas (study circles) where we did exactly that — talk about AMAZING Muslim women in antiquity. I tended to leave the event recharged and happy that an hour was spent discussing just how great and flexible Islam is and how we can learn from these examples.
The same happens at every RIS/ISNA conference in North America. Great male scholars come together and invariably talk about the fantastic women of the past and how we can all learn from them.
And we all cheer.
But then we also all just walk away and go back to the status quo.
It boggles my mind that it’s so difficult for women to break down barriers in the mosque and become involved, when the majority of people attending these conferences are all cheering and hollering when our great male scholars call for reform.
But when a woman refuses to pray behind a barrier, she’s labelled as being rude, offensive, a FEMINIST (*gasp!*), WESTERN (*oh no!*), IMMODEST (*get thee to a nunnery!*) — and lacking the adab or proper religious social skills to “effectively” negotiate with the mosque board.
And yet so many don’t understand that sometimes women feel like they have no recourse except to be shocking in order to bring attention to the inequities we face.
Thanks for commenting!
March 5, 2012 at 4:25 pm
After reading the SAHM link on your reply above, I do think that my posts on the glass ceiling, fertility and the cost of living may be relevant to your discussion…
March 5, 2012 at 8:47 pm
Love this post! Can you email me re:BlogHer?
March 6, 2012 at 3:41 am
Thank you for this amazing post Woodturtle. This is my first time commenting here though I have been stalking your brilliant blog for sometime now. I am not a mom yet but I could completely relate to the post. I started wearing hijab on my father’s insistence when I did not even know what a hijab meant only to take it off when I went away from my quaint village in India to study science in the big city (Though orthodox in his practice of religion my dad believed that it is important for girls to get an education to stand on her own two feet and training in karate to throw a punch or two when required). I now stay away from my parents in another country and work as a research scientist in a lab as a lone hijabi. This time the hijab neither on my dad’s insistence nor the husband’s but for reason’s my own. I wear a hijab not because I don’t think I cannot be a good muslimah without one but for reasons you mentioned and also as an expression of my belief that gives me a personal connect to the creator. If it was my dad who foisted the hijab upon me when I knew no better now it is my mother-in-law who is throwing tantrums that would shame a brat to have me take my hijab off. I struggle to wear my hijab in a predominantly western work/social atmosphere which sometimes alienates me because of my hijab. It breaks me even more when my own family (muslims themselves) does not support me in my struggle for identity.
May Allah bless you and your daughter and make things easy for all the girls out there!!
Fathima
March 6, 2012 at 10:42 am
Salaams fathima,
Insha Allah I really hope things become easier for you. I think hijab comes loaded with so many meanings these days and often it’s positive meaning for the wearer does not reconcile with others. It’s such s shame that others around feel like they have a say in this very personal issue…stick with it as long as it is YoUr CHOICE…isn’t remarkable that in the 2012 world, women still have to battle for that choice. Be strong & confident and seek contentment in your reasons
Wishing you all the best…
Ps: i find that sometimes, to disengage people from exclusively viewing the hijab and not the person, we need to make an impression which shows our collective human-ness. I sincerely hope you find a way of feeling less isolated at work insha Allah
March 6, 2012 at 8:45 pm
Waalaikumussalam Ayesha,
Thank you so much for your beautiful words. Jazakallah!
Just because some people at work refuses to look past my hijab doesn’t mean I don’t have amazing colleagues..one of whom goes as far as to order halal food even when I am the only muslim present! I am grateful for all the positive things in my life and I am trying my best to not let my hijab affect my work!!
March 6, 2012 at 10:51 am
Hooray! I love it when people de-lurk. Welcome and salaams Fathima!
I think Ayesha said it beautifully. We all put on (or take off) hijab for so many reasons — but it’s so much sweeter and meaningful when it’s motivated by our own choice.
Thank you for your amazing dua’a for my family. May Allah bless you in return for your kindness — Allahi Baarik feek.
March 6, 2012 at 8:46 pm
Thank you:)
March 9, 2012 at 4:39 pm
I thought this was a very interesting post. I’m Polish and Catholic so this is pretty different in some cultural respects to my own life. But my friends all come from different walks of life.
I do have a question which I’ve always wondered about the hijab in complete curiousity. If men seeing a woman garbed in full hijab still would be thrown into uncontrollable lust while praying in the mosque, and therefore that is the reason why women are separated from men, then how does the hijab exactly do what it is claimed to do? Which would be to protect a woman’s sexuality and have people focus on her mind instead? It sounds, I don’t know, contradictory. Could you explain because i really would like to better understand as a Westerner.
And I hold issue with Disney as well
March 9, 2012 at 6:23 pm
In some of the mosques I have visited in the U.S., it truly does seem like both the men and women are afraid of being “thrown into uncontrollable lust” if the sexes speak to or even look at one another at all at the mosque. In my opinion, it stems from the specific cultural background that dominates that particular mosque. Some countries, like Pakistan, have clear divisions between the sexes throughout the entire society, and very few women ever go to the mosque at all. That sort of cultural norm tends to carry over when Pakistanis establish mosques in this country.
The mosque where I pray is very different, and it seems to be more like the Prophet’s mosque, peace be upon him. Men and women are separated for the prayer but there is no partition of any kind. After the prayer, the sexes interact just fine without a problem.
The rationale for having women pray behind the men is very simple. When you prostrate with your rear end in the air, it’s better for women to be behind the men than the other way around. However, there’s no need for a partition. As women, we are supposed to keep our heads down until the men stand up to allow the men their modesty as well. Yes, Islam instructs men to be modest, too.
March 10, 2012 at 6:04 pm
I’m so glad that we can have this sort of mutually respectful conversation. This is what is needed, I think, to help bridge Christians and Muslims together over the river of “different therefore wrong”.
May I ask, in further explanation about women praying behind men? That explanation makes sense, but I wonder why women cannot pray on one side of the mosque while men on the other? The position of woman behind man instead of to the side confuses me. It may be a part of the puzzle why we Western women feel, or perhaps fear, that Islam oppresses women.
Also, could it be then, that it’s not that the religion of Islam dictates social behaviours which, such as women not praying in mosques in Pakistan as one example, decides if women are treated as equals, but the cultures of the individual countries. Which just happen to be linked by the same faith but not the same social rules?
March 10, 2012 at 6:42 pm
Thanks for your comments Polish Mama — and welcome to the blog!
There are many mosques where women pray next to men in their respective sections. I’ve heard it’s more predominant in Indonesia — and of course in the main mosque in Mecca, Saudi Arabia.
Why indeed do women have to pray behind men! It’s a question I always ask.
Very briefly, there are some traditions and legal opinions that say it’s the way the Prophet explained how prayer should be arranged: men at the front, youth next, and women at the back — and that men and women had different entrances, or that women should just not bother coming to the mosque at all. So for some Muslims, this is the norm.
But there are other opinions that also say the Prophet encouraged men and women to pray side-by-side in their respective sections. Both arrangements are correct according to Islamic scholars.
There can be a wide variety of cultural differences among Muslims, but the core of belief remains the same. I suppose it’s like comparing Christians practices in South India, Argentina and Canada.
I’m sorry that I haven’t quite answered your question in this little comment — but if you’re interested in learning more about the possible reasons check out this post on barriers and women’s prayer.
March 9, 2012 at 6:07 pm
Fantastic and interesting post! Thank you for sharing your perspective, I really enjoyed reading it and all the comments as well. =)
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