In these days of 'let it all hang out', 'if you've got it flaunt it', 'what you see is what you get', 'in yer face' physical self-expression, perhaps it is unsurprising that modesty is regarded with such suspicion. Considering this, and the uncomfortable tendency to paranoia about overt religious expression, nothing rattles the unquestioning Brit like a niqab, or full Islamic veil. Once an oddity on our streets, now we are increasingly accustomed to the sight of young girls clad in Muslim headwear, whether it be hijab, burqa or niqab.
But of course, despite all the rhetoric about inclusiveness and religious tolerance, it couldn't be a matter of simple personal choice. Oh no. So we get stories about 'terrorists' (by which of course, they mean people the police want to talk to...) fleeing the country hiding under a veil, women jurors listening to MP3 players under their headwear and other heinous things associated with the veil. Or just being a Muslim, actually. And the implication is that It Is Not Healthy. Going out in your smalls at night (Sienna Miller), wearing belts across your tits and foregoing the small matter of a dress (Jodie Marsh), gracing the Oscar ceremonies with hot pants and a gaping cleavage (Pamela Anderson) - absolutely fine. Covering up; no.
In Oman, outside the hotel, and to a substantial degree within it, most of the people we met were Muslims, and they were mostly dressed in traditional clothing. The men and boys wore dishdashas, the loose white gowns fastened at the neck, and caps, and the women and girls over a certain age wore black gowns and various degrees of black headwear. Only the little girls wore Western clothing. People were dignified and restrained, and were enjoying themselves. Knots of girls laughed behind their hands with each other in the soukh as the men drank tea together. Some of the black robes were embellished with gold embroidery, and I caught glimpses of the odd Gucci handbag over an arm. The clothes are the expected norm. Some slightly hysterical commentators think that this in itself is a bad thing, but frankly there are worse things. While I'm sure in some countries there is a substantial pressure on some girls, and maybe occasionally coercion, to take up the veil, I'd guess that for most it's just what you do. In my country, in Britain, it's a girl's choice, and frankly, religion apart, I can easily see how it might be a very attractive one.
The overwhelming pressure in British society to value yourself in terms of how sexually atttractive you are, and in some cases how available you make yourself, has disempowered girls to an astoundingly depressing degree. When I was a child I was taught that my body was just a vessel to carry my mind and my heart around. And just as you'd keep your car in good running order, so you should maintain your body properly. The idea that we are put on this earth to look good for men and have sex with them transports us in a heartbeat back to the stone-age. It's as if we never moved on. And the ubiquity of booze enhances this. "Get drunk and get laid". That's the overwhelmingly accepted idea of how to have a good time. And that is propoagated in advertising, on radio shows, in songs, and to an extent on television and in films. Certainly there is no perceived shame in aiming no higher than this.
And now that I have a daughter, I object. I object so massively you would not believe it. I object to the models of womanhood with which she is presented. I object to the objectification of women and to their own self-objectification. I do not think that Jordan is a great role model for women, as it is now fashionable to assert. I am very pleased that she's happily married and she seems a sweet girl, but she's a rubbish model of femininity. Firstly I am training my child, against all odds, that she is not too fat at ten because her hip bones do not stick out; she is not going to be failing if she doesn't have gigantic jugs; it is her brain that will get her where she wants to go and no; falling out of a club at three in the morning with a huge smile, a dim-witted man and vomit down her dress will never make her a success. At the moment she aspires to greatness rather than to shagability; she admires singers who keep their clothes on and aims for quirky rather than self-abasingly sexy. At the moment I'm winning, but give it six years, when the opinion of her peers is more important to her than mine...
So yes, I can see the appeal of saying no, I'm not playing, and covering yourself up and getting on with that old-fashioned idea of life while all around you frenetic people let it all out and drink and shag and do drugs. Absolutely. And I don't see anything wrong with it, or suspicious about it, or that is an odd decision in any way.
And interestingly I couldn't stop myself staring at the girls who had the fullest veils, those ones with the little grille over the eyes. In the airport there was a woman wearing one.She was with a multi-generational group, so there were no clues as to her age, but she walked like a beautiful woman. I kept turning to look at her and at one point saw her holding her veil up while she talked on a mobile phone. She was young and pretty, if not as exquisite as I'd thought. It struck me that the hiding of oneself is very powerful. I noticed the details of the women in Oman much more than I'd see in any number of scantily clad, louche party-girls in the West.
Oh and one other thing. There was a moment at the pool when I was strolling around looking for a child, clad in my one-piece swimming costuime, and I met a couple of women in veils. I felt rather abashed as I looked at them, and thought to myself, this is where two worlds collide. And then they smiled and nodded at me and I smiled and nodded back. And I thought; no actually, it's where two worlds meet and shake hands amicably and pass on.
