Religion
Although Iraq is still predominantly Muslim, historically, there have been significant Jewish and Christian areas of the country, most notably in Mosul, where there is a large Catholic contingent (for all of my friends in Ireland thinking of relocating). And while, like in most capital cities, Baghdad is liberal and relaxed about the outward displays of piety, there are other regions that are very prescriptive about whether you look religious or not.
Karbala is a shrine town, a very holy city in the Muslim world, and for Shia Muslims, a place of pilgrimage for many as it is the location where the Imam Hussain was martyred. It's also the place where most of my family live. And at this time of year, Muharram, hundreds of thousands of people wearing only black, walk the 60 miles from Najaf to Karbala to celebrate and mourn Imam Hussain's sacrifice. It is an awe inspiring sight, with people of all ages walking the route which is lined with massive tents, forming a linear campsite, with shelter, food, water and foot massages provided for free to all those who march. However, on a purely selfish note, all this religion means I have to wear the most revoltingly restrictive piece of clothing ever.
And by this I mean the abaya. The bane of my life. Hatred, loathing and sheer bile-dripping, stomach-turning, vomit-inducing abhorrence does not even come close to describing my feelings towards this garment. To explain, an abaya is the long black cape worn on top of a long black dress-type thing, and a chokingly tight elasticated headdress to ensure no part of a woman is exposed to any man, who, upon seeing the hair or body of a woman would be driven wild with passion and could not in all reasonableness be expected to control their lustful urges.
In practice, the abaya is unwieldy and heavy. On my first day wearing it, I came back home with a pounding headache and sore neck from the weight of the fecking thing.
In the shrines however, it is compulsory to wear the thing at all times. There are signs at the security checkpoints you have to pass through (where they frisk you with frightening thoroughness) that display exactly the correct type of dress you must wear to be allowed entry. And to add another layer of difficulty, as with all mosques, shoes have to be removed before entering. Have you ever tried to lace up a pair of converse while trying to hold together a long black cloak, ensuring that no part of your body is exposed or emphasised (no bending over ladies!), all while trying to stop the weight of the abaya from dragging your headscarf back so your lustrous locks are not revealed? No? Well I suggest you give it a try and let me know just how easy you found it.
But the most frustrating thing about the whole enterprise, other than it making it very difficult for me to move anywhere (life in Iraq is very sedentary), is that the menfolk (my dad and brother in particular) seem to regard it as not much of a hardship at all. It's just something I have to do, and I should stop complaining about it. But my internal feminist is raging at the unfairness of it all. Not only is it extremely sexist to impose these rules on women, it is also extremely patronising to believe that men cannot control themselves. It's an extreme form of the philosophy that if a woman dresses in a way that is considered provocative, she's 'asking for it'. And that I cannot stand.
For all those women who wish to wear the abaya, I wish them luck, heath and happiness. and to some extent, I can understand the desire for modesty when entering a holy place. But to impose it on all women, regardless of belief - no.
Rant over. For now.
No comments:
Post a Comment