Where Faith Meets Fashion
Hijab is a constant reminder of the presence of God in my life,” Lina Goelzer, DC ’19, says. “The most unwavering part of my identity is my Muslimness, more specifically my Muslim-Americanness, and with the hijab I can wear this identity on my sleeve (or my head).”
Goelzer is one of almost 200 undergraduate Muslim students at Yale, many of whom choose to wear the hijab as both an expression of their beliefs and a compliance with the Islam tenet of modesty. The Prophet Muhammed, in the sunnah — a collection of his sayings and teachings — said, “Every religion has a chief characteristic and the chief characteristic of Islam is modesty.” “Hijab” is the Arabic word for “cover.”
Women typically start wearing the hijab when they reach puberty. “I started wearing hijab right before starting my sophomore year of high school,” Goelzer recalls. It can also serve as a fulfillment of a religious mandate, or a medium of spiritual connection with God. She continues, “I really wanted to feel mature and ready before I started, and made an effort to work on my faith before I started wearing it so that my hijab could be an authentic reflection of my faith. I also did care about how other people would react, so I made sure to ease my friends into the idea of me wearing it, and make them understand that I was still the same person and that we could still act the same around one another.”
To Muslim Yalies going about their day-to-day business — hiking up Science Hill, stealing chocolate chip cookies from dining halls, or barricading themselves in Bass study rooms — the hijab is not only a conspicuous representation of their identities but also a garment containing rich fashion possibilities.
Hafsa Abdi, ES ’20, emphasizes that “the hijab definitely enhances my opportunities in fashion by providing another outlet of self-expression. For example, a simple outfit of dark pants and a white shirt looks completely different if it is paired with a matte, black chiffon scarf or a rich, shiny blue Pashmina. It seems like it would be a ‘burden’ to coordinate another part of an outfit when you’re late for class, but there are endless possibilities.” Her go-to autumn outfit is “a cozy sweater with a long coat, dark jeans, canvas shoes, and a hijab with volume on the hem.”
Meanwhile, Iram Sharieff, DC ’21, can be found wearing “an oversized forest green sweater with black leggings, sturdy black boots and a light gray hijab” while braving chilly New Haven winters. She goes on to explain the considerations of wearing the head covering: “Of course hijab limits my fashion opportunities. But the word “limitations” introduces a negative connotation regarding wearing a hijab. There are certain things I choose not to wear because of my active desire to wear the hijab.”
It is undeniable that Muslim women at Yale (and around the world) rock their hijabs in objectively chic outfits. But to what extent should hijabs be interpreted as a “fashion item” outside the scope of religious observance? The Autumn/Winter 2018 fashion season saw head scarves and hooded looks strut down the catwalks of the most elite designer houses, from Dior to Alexander Wang to Balenciaga. The Gucci runway featured a number of models, most of whom were not Muslim, with scarves pinned under the chin. Versace’s Spring/Summer 2018 campaign saw Christy Turlington Burns in a print scarf from head to toe.
Though the head scarves sported on the catwalks this season drew strong influences from the Islamic hijab, many designers refused to acknowledge them as such. Instead, designers used terms such as “sculptural headpieces,” or, in the case of Gucci sending Sikh turbans down the runway, “a silk scarf with horse print designed to be worn on the head.”
“The models don’t bother me because of their incorporation of the headscarf, but rather because of their perversion of modesty which points to larger social implications,” Sharieff shares. “The idea of eroticizing modesty exists on multiple levels. There are halloween outfits of ‘sexy’ nuns, for example. The idea of modesty is manipulated and commercialized to fit the societal values that can be, in reality, un-modest. This ultimately reflects a society that places importance on the physical exterior, an idea that directly conflicts with hijab.”
A Muslim woman’s hijab carries in its abstract floral prints and delicate silk-blend a profound awareness of the virtues of Islam. It is a not commodity. To these women, the hijab is a conscious devotion to a particular way of life.
“A fundamental part of Islam is the community,” Sharieff explains. “Everything you do is for God and no one’s going to understand that better than fellow Muslims. It’s great that you’re immediately identified as Muslim through your hijab because your brothers and sisters will come talk to you and welcome you into that community.”
That community is especially active at Yale. The Muslim Students Association (MSA) conducts weekly Jumuah (Friday) prayers and Halaqas (discussion circles). In the fall, the MSA hosts the Eid Banquet, an annual celebration open to all members of the Yale community that commemorates Abraham’s sacrifice.
“I feel more physically safe wearing hijab at Yale than I would in many other places in the U.S.,” Goelzer says. “I’ve been fortunate to find a great Muslim community here. Muslim women, many of whom wear hijab, seem to be amongst the most accomplished, involved, and outspoken groups on campus.”
Of course, despite the University fostering a safer and more inclusive space than other places in the United States, the Muslim community is far from being immune to misconceptions. Western perceptions of what it means to be a feminist percolate widely across campus, shaping, often inappropriately, the attitude of students and faculty towards Muslim women.
“Conversations about the need for women to be liberated from the confines of religion strip the agency from women for whom wearing hijab was and continues to be a meaningful and thoughtful decision,” Goelzer explains. “Muslim women who don’t wear hijab are too quickly assumed to be not as religious, which reflects a reductionist view of Muslim culture and religiosity.”
For many Muslim women, wearing the hijab is a conscious choice made with precise resolve — a proclamation of empowerment, agency, and freedom. “To me, hijab is a marker of my religion,” Sharieff holds. “I am proud to wear it.”
