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A World Where Womanhood Reigns Supreme 
(The Seeds of My Own Re-evaluations)

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When I joined the team of "Living Islam" two years ago,
my perception of Islam was dominated by prejudice and ignorance,
and I found its treatment of women abhorrent. To me the veil symbolised
the oppression of women, making them invisible, anonymous and
voiceless, and the cause of this oppression lay in the will to
perpetuate the family and maintain a patriarchal framework - the
very basis of an Islamic Society. I thought women were entirely
submerged by divine justification of their role as wife and mother.

"Living Islam" was filmed over two years in 19 different
countries and on location I was a lone female in an otherwise
male team. I was aware that I especially should behave appropriately.
In my mind, women were to be neither seen nor heard. My first
trip took me to Mali - to an untypical Muslim community in the
bush. Making sure to cover every bit of naked flesh while the
men wandered around in short sleeves, I wondered what rooms I
was permitted to enter and who I was permitted to talk to. But
I also wondered whether my new-found meekness was not in part
a reaction to the overpowering atmosphere of the patriarchal society
I found my self in. Was this how Muslim women felt - resignation
in the face of impossible odds? 

The first Muslim woman I met in Mali was far removed from my preconception
about the Muslim female. She was the wife of a Shaikh dedicated
to converting pagan villagers to Islam. A sophisticated, well-educated
woman, previously married to a diplomat, she had renounced a Western
lifestyle for a life in purdah. In my eyesshe had sentenced herself
to life imprisonment. But here was no prisoner, no poor downtrodden
slave. A sharp intelligent and influential woman stood before
me, clearly the one "who wore trousers" round here.
Here seclusion gave her a status of honour and allowed her to
exercise control from behind closed doors without confrontation.
She was the bargainer, the head of the household, and the manager
of her husbands affairs and schedule. 

The emancipated woman in the West faces the conflict between confirmation
of her femininity and the privileges that she associates with
it, and repudiation of the confines of her female role and all
the limitations that men want her to assume. From where I stood,
this woman had transformed those limitations into priviliges.

On my next trip to northern Nigeria I met twoi more women who
would alter my views even further. These were two women from the
household of Shaikh Zakzaky, a fervent preacher of Jihad who urges
his supporters to follow the example of Iran and replace the imerialistic
western regime with an Islamic state. Zeenah Ibraheem, Zakzaky's
wife and Fatima Yunus, her friend, had agreed to be interviewed
about the role of women in Islam. They were in purdah and would
only speak to another woman. The producer asked me to interview
them. I was nervous apart from the fact that I had never interviewed
anyone before. I was worred that my feminist sympathies would
antagonise the women. But it was precisely these sympathies that
Zeenah and Fatima themselves were questioning. Once again, the
women were educated and articulate. And once again they had rejected
the Western lifestyle which I considered so superior to Islam
in its treatment of women. 

As I took my seat on a carpet in the courtyard, the invisible
boundary between men and women was a welcome partition, and within
this boundary womanhood reigned supreme. This was a sharp contrast
with the feelings from the previous days in locations where my
presence had been acceptable only as an "honarary man".
We had been filming the medieval theatrics of the 'Salla' celebrations
that marked the end of Ramadan. Men, men, men everywhere: 500,000
men gathered for prayer on the morning of the Salla, men pouring
into the inner courtyard of the Emirof Kano's inner courtyard
to pay homage - I was grateful to be allowed to witness these
events but at what price? The complete annihilation of my female
identity? 

But now I was taking the reins because of my sex. No more the
feeling of inferiority and exclusion, as a novice in things Islamic
surrounded by a team of experts, as a woman in a patriarchal society.
Now the men were excluded. Apart from the cameraman and sound
recordist, they were encouraged to stand well back. The cameraman
covered his head and the camera with a black cloth - his very
own veil. I was now in a world where the men had no voice. 

The women talked and in their answers I saw the seeds of my own
re-evalutions. They argued that the veil signified their rejection
of an unacceptable system of values which debased women while
Islam elevated women to a position of honour and respect. "It
is not liberation where you say women should go naked. It is just
oppression, because men want to see them naked." Just as
to us the veil represents Muslim oppression, to them miniskirts
and plunging necklines represent oppression. They said that men
are cheating women in the West. They let us believe we're liberated
but enslave us to the male gaze. However much I insist on the
right to choose what I wear, I cannot deny that the choice is
often dictated by what will make my body more attractive to men.
Women cannot separate their identity from their appearance and
so we remain trapped in the traditional feminine world, where
the rules are written by men. 

By choosing to wear the veil, these women were making a conscious
decision to define their role in society and their relationship
with men. That relationship appeard to be based more on exchange
and mutual respect (a respect that was often lacking in the personal
relationships I saw in the West), than the master/servant scenario
I had anticipated. The Veil to them signified visual confirmation
of their religious commitment, in which men and women were united,
and for Zeenah and Fatima an even stronger commitment to a political
ideal. 

So were my notions of oppression in the form of the veil disqualified?
If my definition of equality was free will then I could no longer
define that oppression as a symptom of Islam. The women had all
excercised their right to choose. To some extent, they were freer
than me - I had less control over my destiny. I could no longer
point at them and say they were oppressed and I was not. my life
was influenced by male approval as theirs - but the element of
choice had been taken out of mine. their situations and their
arguments had, after all, served to highlight shortcomings in
my view of my own liberty. 

MARY WALKER 
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Mary Walker was Production Coordinator on the BBC2 series "Living
Islam". Article courtesy of Impact Magazine 
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