Beyond Black And White: On Discrimination in Dubai.
Essay One: The shroud.
“I don’t belong here,” is the first thought that comes to mind whenever I see pictures of United Arab Emirates government officials dressed in the official dress code of usually a black abaya for a woman, and a white thobe/ kandura/ dishdasha for a man. Even though I was born and brought up in the UAE, I do not own a single black abaya, and while it has nowadays become fashionable, but not prevalent, to wear versions of both the abaya and thobe in different designs and colors, nothing could convince me that balancing an untied head cover on one’s head is hassle-free or that the flowy, long, wide-sleeved abaya is practical.
In my Dubai wardrobe, the one garment bearing resemblance to the black abaya is the black shoulder padded gown from my MBA graduation ceremony from years ago. It is there to remind me of the terrible business decision I had made when I acquiesced to purchasing it (and when I chose to pursue the MBA in the first place). I thought about putting the gown to another use and wearing it to court when I was representing myself against a charge brought against me, but I finally decided against any semblance of contempt of court since the gown looked more like the one worn by the judge than the ones worn by lawyers.
In Dubai Courts, male Emirati lawyers wear black gowns over their white dress; female Emirati lawyers on the other hand do not have to bother with adding another layer to their sufficiently black official Emirati female attire. For once, the black shroud looks less exclusive.
The history of how the white thobe and the black abaya became the official costume in the UAE may be contentious depending on the source detailing it. Photos from the UAE’s history, however, attest to the fact that the current official dress is not a tribute to the past but is in fact a modern fit out; common sense did not favor donning a pristine white or black dress in a harsh, desert stormy, non air-conditioned nomadic environment.
Today, while there is no law obligating Emiratis to wear the official dress, government jobs mandate the official dress code for Emiratis. As an American, when I was employed by a Dubai government entity, I was afforded the freedom to not wear the abaya. At the time, I asked an Emirati colleague what they thought about the official dress code and they said that the population of Emiratis in the UAE was so small that if they gave up the official dress code they would feel lost among the masses.
If you are from among the masses, or a “foreigner” in the UAE, there is nothing in the UAE law against your adoption of the official UAE garb. I have known non-Emiratis who don the thobes and abayas at their place of work, or when they go out, so that they are better regarded by customers, or catered to by service providers. At Dubai Courts, non-Emirati women are provided with an abaya if the way they are dressed is deemed inappropriate.
Ever since I made the decision to come back to Dubai after my family had immigrated to the United States, the question of whether or not I belonged in the UAE had been oscillating in my mind. In spite of my having lived in the UAE more than anywhere else in the world, the fact that I can only be in the country on a visa is an implicit assertion that I am not entitled to call Dubai home. More explicitly, the adherence of the Emiratis to a shrouding uniform stands in the way of the freedom I am not willing to give up.
