south—what became SouthSudan—are often the most affected by the notorious Article 152.
In countries where Islamists have pushed for veiling, the types of veils they promote are new. Unlike traditional forms of dress, which often had a much looser, more flowing aspect, the veils that Islamists promote are worn tightly around the head, often accompanied, in more conservative circles, with buttoned-down coats and cloaks in black and dark blue. Conversely, as the veil has become more prominent, many younger women, in Egypt and especially in Western countries, subvert the new austerity with neon-colored headscarves and formfitting clothes that defy the modesty that is supposed to underpin veiling.
In 2005, I was assigned to interview the Muslim Brotherhood’s spiritual leader at the organization’s headquarters in Cairo. Although the Brotherhood had been officially banned, it was “allowed” to contest parliamentary elections that year. Its literature, banners, and flyers were visible in many neighborhoods across Cairo. I had stopped wearing a headscarf in 1993, and I fully expected to be asked to cover up for this interview; whenever I’d interviewed any Brotherhood leaders in the past, I’d been handed a scarf before being allowed to enter the room where the interview was to take place.
I was dressed in a short-sleeve T-shirt and trousers. This time the person who ushered me in did not handme a headscarf; I was pleasantly surprised. My first interview was with Mohamed Akef, then the Supreme Guide of the Muslim Brotherhood. I told him that I’d heard that the Muslim Brotherhood was sounding more pluralistic than usual and that I’d come to see if it really was embracing diversity of opinion.
He told me the Brotherhood embraced pluralism and inclusion. To illustrate his point, he mentioned that after the Muslim Brotherhood in Kuwait, along with the ultraconservative Salafis, opposed the emir’s plans to give women the right to vote and run for office, he—Akef—had written to them to remind them Islam did not forbid women’s political participation.
Pleased that he’d introduced women’s issues so early in our conversation, I asked Akef if the Muslim Brotherhood, should it ever govern Egypt, would change anything in the Egyptian constitution to curb women’s rights, such as making the veil mandatory.
He insisted once again that the Muslim Brotherhood believed in pluralism and inclusion, and told me this:
“And as proof, you are here interviewing me and you are naked,” Akef said.
“I am not naked.”
“Your hair is naked, your arms are naked; according to God’s law you are naked.”
“The verses in the Qur’an regarding women’s dress have been interpreted differently,” I said.
“Don’t listen to those who try to say hijab is not mandatory. There are no different interpretations. There is just one interpretation and according to that interpretation, you are naked.”
So much for pluralism.
I only had to leave the Muslim Brotherhood’s headquarters and take a look around me to understand why Akef wouldn’t have to change anything in the constitution to make veiling mandatory. The Muslim Brotherhood had already won that battle. The veil, be it the hijab or the niqab, is a white flag raised to signal our surrender to the Islamists and their conservatism. Almost a decade after that interview, with the majority of women in Egypt covered by one form of veil or another, it is clear the Islamists have achieved region-wide social control.
When I talk about the need for a social revolution in order for our political revolution to succeed, I have this Islamist victory over social mores—as well as the definition of modesty—in mind, not just the regime’s oppression.
I have never before written at length about my experience of either wearing or giving up the headscarf. It’s always been a difficult subject, and for many of the years following my decision to stop wearing a headscarf, I was