Do India’s women have the right to choose?
The hijab row is now headed to a larger Supreme Court bench and all eyes will be on the Chief Justice of India. The composition of this bench will be crucial to determine what is at heart a simple question: Do India’s women have the right to choose?
By sheer coincidence, the Supreme Court’s (SC)’s split verdict on the contentious hijab row was delivered on karva chauth, the fourth day after the full moon, when Hindu women, mainly from North India, fast for their husband’s long life.
For many liberal commentators, the ritual is an example of patriarchy. After all, the men don’t fast. And the idea of deprivation by a woman for her husbands’ longevity is biased against one gender, goes the argument. It’s the same liberal commentators who also argue vociferously for choice, particularly where the hijab debate goes. If schoolgirls opt to wear a head scarf over their uniforms, what’s the harm?
The schism can be seen among the Right-wing ecosystem as well. It’s brainwashing and social pressure, not choice, that determines whether girls wear the hijab, which imposes restrictions of modesty on one gender.
Meanwhile, karva chauth is celebrated by women who choose to fast for their husbands. Their fast, their choice. But if the issue is choice, then both sets of women, regardless of their religious beliefs, must be allowed the agency to fast or wear the hijab (or discard it, as in Iran).
Justice Shudhanshu Dhulia’s dissenting opinion trends towards this option (though, of course, karva chauth is not part of his remit). “It is a matter of choice, nothing more and nothing less,” he ruled. The thing which was uppermost in [my] mind was the education of girl child…. Are we making her life better?”
For justice Hemant Gupta, the question is uniformity: “Secularism is applicable to all citizens.” Religion, he added, has no place in a secular school run by the State.
The split verdict captures the larger dichotomy of how we interpret secularism and religion in public life.
In India, religion is deeply ingrained. We see it in our public interactions: Processions for Muharram, neighbourhood choirs at Christmas, and fireworks at Diwali.
So it is with what we wear. If a mangalsutra worn by a teacher, sacred thread around the wrist of a schoolboy and a turban on Sikh students causes no public outrage, it seems strange that the sight of girls in hijab should cause such anxiety.
As for choice, individual actions are rarely committed in silos. Some Muslim women wear hijab as a political statement. Others do so to assert religious identity when their faith is perceived to be under threat. And, yes, some wear it out of a sense of family obligation — not that different from those women who must fast because their communities expect it of them.
The hijab row is now headed to a larger Supreme Court bench and all eyes will be on the Chief Justice of India. The composition of this bench will be crucial to determine what is at heart a simple question: Do India’s women have the right to choose?
Namita Bhandare writes on gender The views expressed are personal