My mother was born into a traditional upper-caste, upper-middle-class family. Though her upbringing came with its share of restrictions for women, the mindset in her household was not as conservative as that of my father’s family. My father, hailing from a Peshawari lineage, grew up in a household with a rigid adherence to customs – one of which was the expectation that women in the family wear the burqa whenever they stepped outside.

When my mother was on the brink of marrying my father, he laid down a condition: she must always wear a burqa when leaving the house. My mother, who had never donned that attire in her life, accepted this condition. To her, the burqa was a small price to pay for the promise of love and a future with the man who had captured her heart. 

Whenever there was a parent-teacher meeting at my school, I found myself dreading the sight of my mother in her burqa. Most of my friends’ mothers, who were predominantly Hindu, wore vibrant sarees or salwar kameez, their faces uncovered and free. I felt a deep sense of embarrassment as my mother stood out in stark contrast. I would beg her and my father to let her forgo the attire, at least when she accompanied me to school, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. My father’s word was final, and my mother was helpless to defy him. 

This is not an isolated instance. The burqa has long been enforced through patriarchal edicts, frequently justified as divinely ordained.

From modesty to patriarchy via theological interpretations

The history of the burqa is deeply intertwined with religious texts, cultural practices, and interpretations that have evolved over centuries. 

In the Qur'an, verse 59 of Surah Al-Ahzab instructs women to draw their cloaks over their bodies to avoid harassment, while verse 31 of Surah An-Nur advises women to “lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that they should not display their beauty and ornaments except what (must ordinarily) appear thereof; that they should draw their veils over their bosoms and not display their beauty except to their husbands, their fathers.”

Verse 34 of Surah An-Nisa contributes to this discourse. 

“Men are the protectors and maintainers of women because Allah has given one more (strength) than the other, and because they support them from their means. Therefore the righteous women are devoutly obedient, and guard in the husband’s absence what Allah would have them guard. As to those women on whose part ye fear disloyalty and ill-conduct, admonish them (first), (then) refuse to share their beds, (and last) beat them lightly. But if they return to obedience, seek not against them means (of annoyance).”

This verse does not specifically prescribe the burqa, but it has been interpreted to justify male authority over women, with its directives reflecting the broader patriarchal context in which interpretations have been applied. 

These interpretations can reinforce male dominance and control, not just in terms of attire but in various aspects of women’s lives. And the burqa, in this framework, becomes a tool for enforcing compliance with these norms, symbolising a broader system of control rather than merely a garment of modesty. 

Such interpretations highlight the tension between religious prescriptions and the fundamental principles of gender equality. They also place the burden of modesty squarely on the shoulders of women, rather than addressing the responsibility of men not to objectify women as mere sexual objects. 

The expectation is that women must cover themselves to avoid tempting men, rather than emphasising that men should control their gaze and behaviour. This dynamic shifts the focus away from addressing the root problem – male behaviour – and instead enforces the notion that it is women’s responsibility to prevent unwanted attention. 

Over time, the same verses have been interpreted by scholars and cultural leaders in various ways, leading to a range of practices around the world – from the modest hijab to the full-body burqa. Although the Qur’an’s directive was intended to promote modesty, garments like the burqa have been shaped by centuries of cultural and social influences. They have often been used as instruments of patriarchal control, enforcing the segregation of women and restricting their presence in public spaces, effectively functioning as a “mobile prison” for them.

The feminist paradox

The contemporary debate around the burqa is multifaceted, particularly when it comes to feminist responses to government and institutional bans on the garment across the world. 

Feminists often rally against these bans, advocating for the right of women to choose. This stance emphasises personal freedom but can sometimes overlook the oppressive origins and enduring impact of the burqa.

The burqa, after all, was originally imposed as a means of controlling women’s bodies and interactions with the outside world. It was justified with arguments such as protecting women from the perverted gaze, which shifts the blame onto victims of sexual violence and away from the perpetrators, reinforcing the notion that women must be controlled to prevent such violations. This approach institutionalised the suppression of women, treating them as possessions of their male guardians and further entrenching patriarchal norms. 

Can girls as young as 10 make a personal choice to wear the hijab? When these practices stem from patriarchal frameworks, they are not genuinely free choices but are imposed by societal expectations. 

But at the same time, it’s important to recognise that bans on the burqa, including the one in Karnataka, may often have their own selfish, communal, or political motivations which complicate the debate. 

Hindutva approach only deepening divisions

The BJP frames the burqa as a symbol of oppression of Muslim men, often failing to address the deeper issues of patriarchal control that affect women across all communities. So it shifts the focus away from a broader critique of patriarchal structures. 

This is not very different from how similar political groups fuel communal tensions to deflect attention from more pressing concerns, such as caste inequalities and the government’s failures in economic and developmental spheres. 

Hindutva groups’ hatred towards Muslim men overtakes any agenda to uplift Muslim women and free them from patriarchal constraints. It was evident when the Sangh Parivar celebrated the quashing of instant triple talaq by the Supreme Court.

While it is essential to support women’s freedom to choose what they wear, it is equally important to recognise that this “choice” may not always be free from underlying pressures. 

True freedom

True freedom emerges when women can make decisions about their clothing without coercion or societal pressures. Thus the challenge is not just to defend the right to wear the burqa but to address the broader patriarchal systems that have historically dictated women’s choices and restricted their autonomy. 

My own experiences with my mother’s struggle with this garment provide a personal lens through which to view the broader issue. Over the years, her experience has been marked by a tension between her personal desires and the patriarchal expectations imposed upon her. This personal history suggests that any advocacy for women’s right to choose must also involve challenging the underlying systems that restrict genuine freedom. 

Feminism, after all, fundamentally aims to challenge and dismantle systems of oppression and to ensure that women have the freedom to make choices free from coercion or societal control. And by rallying behind the burqa as a symbol of choice, there is a risk of endorsing a practice that directly opposes the fundamental goals of feminism. True feminist support involves questioning and challenging the patriarchal frameworks that enforce such practices rather than endorsing them as symbols of personal choice. 

In a hypothetical scenario where no woman wears the burqa, the patriarchal structures that rely on such garments to enforce control would lose a key tool of their influence. After all, if the burqa was universally abandoned, what examples would patriarchs use to maintain their authority and control? 

Though the fundamental truth is that this radical shift is unlikely without the active support of men. Until men also work towards challenging the norms that enforce such practices, the burqa will remain a symbol of patriarchal control.