There was a curious story on CNN’s web site the other day about a Somali Muslim supermodel who has been the first woman — on several platforms — to wear her hijab as she modeled some very modest clothes.
Some of us look awful wearing close-fitting scarves but Halima Aden is one of those blessed individuals with gorgeous facial features who’d stand out in a gunny sack. She exemplifies “modesty culture,” which is portrayed in mass media as repressive when it occurs in a Christian context, but becomes high fashion when a svelte Muslim takes it on.
But then this Muslim called a halt to it all for religious reasons that are never really explained by the fashion reporters who covered her story.
CNN began its piece as follows:
Muslim model Halima Aden is stepping back from fashion and quitting runway shows entirely after feeling pressured to compromise her religious beliefs, she announced Wednesday.
Aden, the first model to wear a hijab and burkini in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, posted a series of Instagram Stories describing the difficulties she has faced in the “toxic mess called fashion.” In the posts, she recounted skipping prayers, wearing clothes she wasn’t comfortable in and styling her hijab in ways she felt betrayed her values.
“They could call me tomorrow and not even for $10 million would I ever risk compromising my hijab ever again,” she wrote. Aden also pledged to never take part in runway shows or travel for fashion months again, adding that “that’s where all the bad energy came from.”
As I read the rest of the CNN story, I could not figure out what “styling her hijab in ways that betrayed her values” meant.
Fortunately, this BBC story explained it some.
She says she’s compromised her religion many times as part of her job — including missing prayer times set out in the Islamic faith or agreeing to model without a hijab on, using another item of clothing to cover her head.
She added that she had “sobbed” in her hotel room after shooting some campaigns over not speaking up about what she thought was right.
“The truth is I was very uncomfortable,” she wrote on Instagram. “This just ain’t me,” she added.
So when is a hijab not a hijab? Why can’t any old piece of cloth do if it does the same job? Clearly there are issues of tradition and doctrine linked to these questions. However, as I perused various stories, I didn’t seen any explaining in the context of what Islam mandates (or does not mandate) on hijabs.
The following, by the way, is what the Quran says on the matter in Surah (chapter) 33, verse 59:
O Prophet! Ask your wives, daughters, and believing women to draw their cloaks over their bodies. In this way it is more likely that they will be recognized ˹as virtuous˺ and not be harassed. And Allah is All-Forgiving, Most Merciful.
As you can imagine, this can be interpreted in many ways. The folks at SpokaneFavs remind us that the hijab is a personal choice for women. And this HuffPost piece is the best I found, in terms of explaining competing positions within Islam on the matter.
I looked at HauteHijab.com for some clarity and got the following. What is fascinating about it all is the pushback from other black Muslim women.
But we do think about this a lot at Haute Hijab, as we strive to be a model and support for Muslim women everywhere, especially those who wear hijab. Finding that balance as a fashion company who recognizes and celebrates a woman wanting to feel comfortable, elegant and beautiful in her modesty while also placing our deen and Islam at the center of what we do is not an easy thing. It’s always been an evolution of thought, practice, self-reflection and growth. Everyone is on a journey, as are we.
It is with this spirit that we are in awe of Halima’s journey and her choice to share it with us all. We know these are complicated things with layers upon layers built into it. In listening to conversations being facilitated by Black Muslim women, there are also frustrations being aired about how Halima’s reflections on some of the clothing and hijab styles she wore in some of her modeling experiences that she felt were not true to her sense of modesty — how these very hijab and clothing styles are, in fact, considered to be modest by other Black Muslim women.
So, has the hijab lost its meaning and become one more fashion accessory? Was it ever supposed to be a faith statement?
The New York Times tried to explain this. Sort of.
Muslim women who choose to don a head scarf often have deeply personal and dynamic relationships with their hijabs, and Ms. Aden was met with a wave of support from many who had similar experiences on Instagram and Twitter.
“Halima’s decision to step away from the modeling scene has just reinforced my beliefs,” Aminah Bakhtair, 19, who wrote on social media about her admiration for Ms. Aden, wrote in a direct message. “I feel proud of her for taking a stance that many would hesitate to take, and to take back what the Hijab truly means and stand up for the religion of Islam.”
But what does “truly mean” stand for? Again, this implies that there are standards — somewhere. Could reporters quote them?
Is this debate about modesty and inner beauty? Or, if you look at the black-cloaked hordes of women on Tehrani streets or the look-alike prairie dresses worn by multiple Mormon wives, is it about conformity and loss of individuality?
Follow me on this tangent for a moment about that last group as described by NBC:
For a society accustomed to the likes of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan, the images of the women from the polygamist compound in Texas are almost shocking in their understatement: Ankle-length dresses, makeup-less faces, hauntingly uniform hair. …
The puff-sleeved, pastel dresses worn by the women in the sect are a combination of original 19th-century wear and 1950s clothing that was adopted when the church took a conservative turn, according to Janet Bennion, an anthropologist who studies polygamist women.
The dresses are meant to show modesty and conformity: They go down to the ankles and wrists, and are often worn over garments or pants, making sure every possibly provocative inch of skin is covered.
John Llewellyn, a polygamy expert and retired Salt Lake County sheriff’s lieutenant, says the women cover themselves “so that they’re unattractive to the outside world or other men.”
Tell me now: Would any mainstream newsroom reporter these days use such disparaging language about the way Muslim women dress? And they’re a lot more covered up than those Mormon women are.
The Times tried tackling this topic in a 2019 piece headlined “The Co-opting of Modest Fashion.”
There is no longer any doubt that what used to be called “modest” dressing — clothes sensitive to religious requirements more than fashion — has become a part of mainstream trend. But what does that mean for women whose modest clothes are about more than just style?
Nadia Krayem, an Australian photographer, has worked with Think Fashion, the group behind Modest Fashion Week, and photographed the “hijabi ballerina” Stephanie Kurlow. She said that while she believes the mainstreaming of modest fashion has “made modest dressing easier,” she has concerns over its evolution. “It has been appropriated,” Ms. Krayem said. And in this, perhaps, shorn of its original context and message.
The story interviewed Muslim and Orthodox Jewish women -– both from traditions that stress female modesty –- on what they considered modesty to be.
Once again: Does this have only to do with not tempting the guys or is there something more? Is there a different kind of beauty involved here?
That may have something to do with growing awareness around the modest fashion sector and the rise of that consumer group as a shopping power; the need for “armor” in a world that feels increasingly scary and unpredictable; or the cultural shifts that followed the #MeToo movement, as many women rejected the male gaze. Whatever the reason, what was once a religious uniform has been largely transformed into a style that’s vulnerable to the fluctuations of a capricious industry, which has implications for the public understanding of observant dress.
Somehow the stars on this weren’t aligning for Aden, who, having given up runway modeling, has no plans to slink into the sunset. According to Emirates Woman, she plans to run for Miss Universe, representing Somalia.
Acknowledging that she has been a woman of many firsts including being the first-ever hijabi to compete for Miss Minnesota; becoming the first hijabi model for IMG; and the first-ever person to wear a hijab and burkini on the cover of Sports Illustrated, Aden now plans to add another first to her list.
“All those other ‘FIRSTs’ have prepared me for my true calling,” she said. “I will be the First Miss Somalia on the stage of Miss Universe. Fellow contestants, get ready because I AM COMING.”
I don’t think the question of what constitutes “observant dress” (notice how the term is shorn of religious meaning) is going away any time soon. Is it a good thing when the world starts copying how you dress even though it doesn’t care for the thought behind the dress? Imagine people dressing like nuns or the Amish but not living the lifestyle that goes with the outfit.
Is this is what Aden was trying to get at?
There’s lots of meaty philosophical stuff out there for reporters to write about. We talk a lot these days of cultural appropriation in that, for instance, not just anyone should walk about wearing tribal Indian dress unless they are Native American. But is there such a thing as moral appropriation? That is, people wearing the outfits, but not living the life that goes with them?
Or, which is what Aden may be saying, giving the impression of wearing a hijab without putting a real one on and not buying into the modesty that a hijab wearer is supposed to have? Do clothes make the woman or the woman influence the clothes?
So many angles and so few stories that really unpack what’s going on here,
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