Children of Dust_ A Memoir of Pakistan - Ali Eteraz [124]
“Being uptight doesn’t only have to do with Islam, though,” Ziad replied. “Women wear the veil today for all sorts of reasons that have little to do with religion. For most of the middle-class women it’s so that no one confuses them for an immigrant.”
“So bigotry instead of Islam?” I said sarcastically.
“Or classism. Or maybe even just fashion. Look, we can never understand why individuals do the things they do.”
“Fashion? Come on!”
“Yes, fashion,” Ziad repeated, pointing to a pair of niqab-wearing women in a far corner of the café. “Look at those girls. They’re covered up, but they’re in this café which is mostly men. That already indicates that they aren’t constrained by Islam. If for some reason the café owner suddenly stopped permitting women inside, these girls would still find a way to be around guys.”
“How?”
“You’d be surprised. Maybe they’d drive really slowly down the road, and guys would pull up next to them so that they could exchange phone numbers through the window. We’ll drive up and down the main highway next Friday night. You’ll see the pick-up scene there.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Just look at the shoes they’re wearing,” he said.
“Heels,” I said, taking note. “Strappy ones. Nice sexy heels. So what?”
“I don’t know many brand names, but those are guaranteed to be Dior or Chanel or Jimmy Choo. And if you go to the mall you’ll find all these girls in the boutiques buying up a storm. Why would they buy stuff if there wasn’t anyone to appreciate them?”
I nodded.
“And look at how they’re watching the belly dancer on TV,” Ziad added. “Clearly they have no problem with sexuality.”
“But they cover their face,” I noted. “That’s repressive. We have to liberate women like them. Veiled women raise fundamentalists: the veil is the ‘gateway drug’ to extremism.”
Ziad laughed. He sipped his tea and thought for a moment before responding.
“A veil is not a bomb,” he said. “Besides, free them from what? The veil is a cultural symbol that has a long history. If you live in Kuwait for an extended period, you’re going to run into a sandstorm. The sand particles are tiny, and they get into your eyes and nose and throat and clog everything up. I bet you that when one comes, you’ll be covering your nose and mouth as well. That’s probably how the people of this part of the world started wearing veils thousands of years ago. At the end of the day, though, if they want to wear the veil, that’s their choice. Why not put up your feet and just admire the diversity of the world? I like to think of the world as a science fiction film. There are a whole bunch of creatures that look messed up to one another, but even if we don’t like what someone looks like we should still talk to them.”
“But there are people in this world—Muslims—who want to impose the veil on everyone. Those are the people Islamic reform is trying to stop.”
“That’s not Islamic reform, though,” Ziad replied. “To ‘impose’ you gotta be in government. Any time a government imposes anything on you and you resist, that’s just standing up to a government. Why do you bring Islam into it?”
“Because they say it’s all about Islam.”
“Just because they say it doesn’t mean it’s true. It’s your job to see beyond that. Look, if the American government says that they need to incarcerate a segment of their population in the name of Pokémon, do you turn yourself into a Pokémon expert in order to try and prove that, no, Pokémon wouldn’t do such a thing?”
Our waiter chose that moment to bring our food—felicitous timing, because I didn’t have a response to Ziad’s question.
He persisted. “You have to ask yourself what you’re fighting for, Ali. Are you an enemy of Islamic fundamentalism simply because it pisses you off, or do you actually support liberty? If it’s the latter, why do you have to talk about Islam all day? If it’s the former, you have to ask yourself why you let your life be controlled by being pissed off. Or…never mind.