France is known for having an unhealthy relationship with its Muslim population. The 2004 act which banned signs of religious affiliation in schools can be seen as a law which asks Muslims to dress in a manner unacceptable to many of them, while leaving the Christian majority unscathed (crucifixes can be worn under school uniform by those who consider them important). Despite knowing about this long-standing tension in French society, I was nonetheless shocked and astonished to read an article by Angelique Chrisafis in the Guardian in June, which documents overt discrimination against ‘modestly’ dressed women in France: Veiled threats: row over Islamic dress opens bitter divisions in France (26th June 2009). Fully grown adults wearing nothing more remarkable than a hijab (the basic headscarf) have been refused permission to withdraw cash from their own bank accounts, spat at, banned from their own registry office weddings and refused access to polling booths. Many French people would claim that they are not discriminating against Muslims, but are attempting to liberate Muslim women from an old-fashioned patriarchal tradition which subjugates them. If one left aside these infringements of basic rights, this may sound like a liberal, feminist standpoint, but having lived in France, I find it hard not to feel anger towards this arrogant hangover from colonial times. France is a society where the objectification of women is rife. The feminist in me was fully awakened when, walking down a French street, I encountered a billboard advertising a man’s watch. This featured a man (wearing said watch) with his thumb in the knickers of an otherwise naked woman… Here is another French advert for a watch:

…. and here’s an advert for yoghurt (a product which sees a lot of this kind of advertising in France):

It is beyond me how a state that permits marketing which deems it acceptable to use the image of a (generally unclothed) woman to sell anything and everything can at the same time consider itself knowlegable enough about women’s rights to pass laws (supposedly in favour of women) that dictate acceptable female dress codes. Reading the Guardian article, I was hardly surprised to discover that many women wearing the niqab (face veil) were French converts to Islam. These girls will have grown up with adverts like the ones above all around them. It’s understandable that they would rather keep their hair and bodies for themselves and their partners than dress in a more relaxed (or less covered) way in an environment where it seems that everyone will be judging how perfect or otherwise your body is.
The central piece of ‘news’ in the Guardian article was that France is considering an outright ban on the niqab. I decided to see if I could find out more about the niqab in France on IBSS. I tried searching for ‘niqab’ and ‘France’ but it seems that this is too new a topic to have generated academic papers. I expect IBSS will be full of such information by next year once papers have been peer reviewed and published, this being such a controversial topic. I amended my search to ‘hijab’ and ‘France’ and this uncovered a lot of relelvant articles discussing the central themes (basic rights, women, religion and state, clothing…). I will leave aside articles relating to the hijab ban in schools, as this is a vast topic in itself, and will discuss points raised by papers focusing on French society at large. It is, anyway, more controversial that the dress of grown adults is thought to be fair game for state sanction or otherwise.
In ‘Unveiling the veil: gendered discourses and the (in)visibility of the female body in France’ (2004), Michela Ardizzoni talks about why Islamic head coverings provoke such strong reactions. She argues that colonial art and Orientalist discourse eroticised veiled women, while simuntaneously focusing on ‘her eyes as a site of mystery/danger’. According to Ardizzoni, veiled women were de-eroticised with decolonization and postcolonialism, but the perception of threat continued, and immigrants or converts to Islam covering their hair maintain this sense of otherness, of ambiguous cultural identity confusing non-Muslims with an unfamiliar ’sexual femininity’. Ardizzoni argues that France has trouble accepting hybridity and allowing cultural change to become a legitimate part of French national identity. Gabriele vom Bruck (2008) argues along similar lines, and talks about the media’s role in affirming negative perceptions of female Muslims: ‘Western media have sketched a picture of the covered woman as a potentially subversive vanguard; her body is made to appear as a vehicle for the cultural colonialisation of Europe.’ Her next point is particularly interesting: why does Islamic clothing provoke more reaction than other clothing which marks identity? ‘This phenomenon raises important questions as to why this marker of difference—a specific style of hair covering—arouses much greater passion than, say, class-related difference as manifested in clothes (e.g., see Bourdieu 1979)’. This feeling is mirrored in a recent Telegraph article by Ed West: France’s immigration minister is wrong to want to ban the burka and niqab (September 15th 2009): ‘Personally on a late night I’d rather see a gaggle of women in niqabs than some morons dressed in hoodies, but I don’t ask that American ghetto-wear is banned because it’s worn by criminals and people who want to look like criminals’. Admittedly it sounds like West has his own axe to grind, but this is an interesting point. If anyone else was surprised at the apparent liberal slant of this article, his conclusion is that niqab-wearing can be controlled by tightening up French immigration policy…
West has overlooked the fact that not all Muslim women who cover are immigrants. Afsaneh Najmabadi’s (2006) ‘ Gender and secularism of modernity: how can a Muslim woman be French?’ provides an interesting exploration of how personal, gender, national, transnational and religious identity sit together. It is historically, geographically and thematically broad in scope, and would provide an excellent introduction for anyone wanting to know more about the issues at stake in the French debate.
IBSS also helped me to find an article which talks about the effect of negative attitudes towards the hijab on Muslim women’s everyday life. Katell Berthou’s ‘The issue of the veil in the workplace in France: unveiling discrimination’ (2005) looks at how French law treats the wearing of hijabs at work. It is quite surprising that antipathy for Islamic headcoverings has meant that the issue has made it into courts, but this is the case. The issue is discussed from a legal perspective, Berthou arguing that French courts fail to respect national anti-discrimination provisions and EU law’ and that French law ‘lacks a fundamental understanding of the concept of discrimination and negates the concept of difference.’
I wondered if the use of women in French advertising was discussed in IBSS, as I really consider it hypocritical for French legislators and policy makers to suggest that they want to liberate Muslim women while allowing women’s sexual appeal to be used as a marketing tool. I did a last search for ‘women’, ‘advertising’ and ‘France’ and found a very interesting article which highlights the bizarre attitude towards the use of women in adverts which prevails in France. In ‘Courbert, advertising and femininity’ Kate E. Tunstall discusses an advert for a cosmetic cream which provoked outrage in France. The advert places a slim, smooth-skinned French woman next to a less slim, less smooth-skinned woman from Courbet’s painting Les baigneuses, who is shown on the left in the original painting below.

Astonishingly, what outraged people and provoked them to ask for the advert to be removed from display was the body of Courbet’s woman. ‘Women are appalled by the shape of Courbet’s woman; they think her ugly, the phrase ‘c’est affreux’ echoed in their statements, and they would rather not be shown her’. This seems pretty remarkable to me, given that the woman in the painting is really no monster. In 2001 (when the article was published) France was by no means immune to obesity, so to take this attitude towards a woman which an M&S advert would deem ‘normal’ is surprising. The advert does not produce outrage by ‘the use of women’s bodies to sell a product, since here (for once!), the women’s bodies are actually relevant to the product being sold’. Tunstall points out that images of slim women ‘abound in French advertising’, and few ‘if any’ complaints are ever made about them, regardless of relevance.
That slim bodies become the only acceptable norm in France because of the prevalence of such adverts is a real shame. That women’s bodies are used in such a way is wrong. And that many French women have converted to Islam and prefer to wear Islamic dress and prevent their bodies from being objectified in such a way is not surprising. And that is to say nothing of people’s right to dress how they like in what is supposedly an enlightened country. It is almost too hackneyed to mention Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, but I will: Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité??
Posted by tamsine
Posted by jmcclusk
Posted by tamsine 

. I hope that new pools are treated the same level of respect in future, and that planners start to see the beauty and historical value of old pools.
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