A couple of years back I posted about burqas, and how I’d just been queueing up in Tesco’s in front of a woman wearing one. Well I hadn’t. We’ve all of us become more familiar now with the terminology, and my supermarket encounter was with a niqab: a veil covering the lower face, leaving a slit for the eyes. I’ve seen plenty more since – in Tesco’s, in the Post Office, walking along the street – though not, to be fair, down the pub.
Now though I have seen a burqa in Tesco’s. The woman was dressed entirely in black, including her hands. Her face was completely covered in the cloak, and I couldn’t even detect a net or grille in front of the eyes, though presumably she could just about see through – at least enough to get around. She was pushing a pram and accompanied by her husband. She looked, frankly, grotesque. It prompted a Martin Amis moment, an urge – don’t you have it? – to think, well, if that’s how you behave on the streets of London, why don’t you just go and live in Saudi Arabia or somewhere more congenial?
Just to clarify my position here: I have no problem at all with what might be described as cultural markers, whether it’s Sikh turbans (except…), Rastas wearing their red green and gold woolly hats, Hasidic Jews with their locks, or even women covering their heads with the standard hijab. Female modesty is something that different cultures feel differently about, and their attitudes, though certainly open to challenge, should be granted some respect. Covering the face, though, crosses a line. It offends, as I wrote before, against the implicit democracy of social interaction on our streets which allows people to react openly and freely with their fellow citizens.
Though Jack Straw may have done us a favour by opening up a debate, this isn’t a matter for politicians, and nor is it really a matter for me, as a man. It’d be unpardonable if I made some derogatory comment, though I do allow myself a disapproving stare. What it is, quite clearly, is a feminist issue. With a few exceptions, however, feminists seem remarkably unwilling to take up the challenge. Here we have a walking kick in the teeth for everything that feminists have striven for over the past couple of centuries. You couldn’t even describe it as turning the clock back: there have never been such public demonstrations of female subservience, ever, throughout British history. And it’s just the visible sign of deeper problems, involving arranged marriages, domestic abuse, and, at the extreme, honour killings. Yet somehow the precepts of multiculturalism and the fear of appearing racist trump any feelings of outrage at these offensive displays.
Mick Hartley 
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